A/N: Thanks to Will and Trayus for betaing this update and helping me with the rest of the story. As always, much appreciated. Some of the spells used here were developed in Trayus' own stories, so thanks again for letting me play around with them.

Chapter 26: The March of the Marauders

It was Valentine's Day by the time of Brotherhood of Merlin was ready to begin its campaign against the centaur of the Forbidden Forest. For the past month, partisan resistance directed at the new Minister of Magic had fermented and consolidated amongst many Hogwarts students, though a considerable minority in terms of numbers and influence. Most of Howarts, and concurrently most of Wizarding Britain, approved of their new Minister and felt much safer with her effective leadership, the dark shadow of fear starting to lift from the hearts of the population. Yet there were still some who took umbrage with Bones and her actions; the wizarding elites who felt their livelhoods and privileges threatened, Voldemort supporters who understood the danger Bones posed to their cause, as well as the apathetic and conservative who opposed any change. The Daily Prophet had helped to fuel these fears, but the position of trust it once held was no more. Amelia Bones was a strong woman, and strength is always valued in a time of war, often to incredible extremes. For all but a few, the election of Bones to the office of Minister was welcome news after years of incompetence, corruption and general mismanagement.

Yet those few still had voices, some even had power, and their efforts were turned to opposing this new order. Fudge's trial on corruption charges had turned into a political circus as the former Minister lambasted his accusers and labelled them as treasonous. The elites, jealous of Bones' popularity and ever-mindful of their own declining power, attempted to stir up unrest by frightening the public with horror stories of what Bones would do given half the chance, from abolishing private property to making demi-humans full citizens under the law to selling out the Aurors during battle. The fact that Bones was somewhat sympathetic to the non-human species that lived under Ministry authority didn't help matters. From pureblood supremacists to wizarding racists, the new Minister faced her fair share of threats, not the least of which were the Death Eaters themselves.

A recent addition to the ranks of the Minister's foes was none other than Adrian Pucey, Chaser for the Slytherin Quidditch Team and former member of the Hogwarts Inquisitorial Squad. Becoming one of the Sons of Enigma upon his return to Hogwarts for his seventh year, Pucey had become disenchanted with Malfoy's pathetic attempts at sabotage and intimidation, his overweening pride and his brittle, childish ego. As far as he could tell, most of the pureblood community, the so-called "true wizards," were quite the same; either a pack of spineless, decadent fools who ran away screaming at the first hex, or a gang of bloodthirsty fascists without reason or cunning. When Malfoy and his closest goons openly defected to the Death Eaters, Pucey remained behind to pick up the pieces and establish his own power base. He was through being the Dark Lord's busboy, and with that craven little weasel Malfoy gone, he had a golden opportunity to seize control of everything the ferret had built before abandoning without a moment's notice.

While Pucey's faith in Voldemort's ideals had waned considerably, his long-standing belief in the supremacy of wizards over all magical creatures was as formidable as ever. In Pucey's mind, Dumbledore was a complete fool for ever permitting creatures like Firenze and Hagrid to teach at the school, allowing genuine wizards, human beings, to be instructed by a bunch of sub-human monsters. Human wizards had long since established their dominion over lower forms of magical life, and Pucey liked it that way. He saw no reason in warring against other wizards all the while consorting with such creatures, it made no sense for Voldemort to be defeated if the future beckoned only servitude under those beasts and their human collaborators. Beyond that, Adrian Pucey was simply a man capable of exploiting opportunities. Malfoy's defection had left a void that needed to be filled and he was able to do that.

And so the Brotherhood of Merlin was established, a force of those students annoyed and chafing at the new government, often jealous or hostile towards Potter and his Army of the Marauders and desiring greater influence and authority within the school populace. The Slytherins formed the bulk of the group, of course, the aimless and slavish masses simply accepting Pucey's leadership without much fuss. Fighting Muggleborns and fighting centaur was simply a distinction they were either too incapable or uneducated to make, and the process of shifting targets went off without a hitch. The Sons of Enigma also contributed, although their numbers were significantly reduced since the Christmas break. Only half of the Sons now stood present in Hogwarts, with Malfoy and his closest goons having fled to the Dark Lord's arms, and many of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that participated now deserting and abandoning the cause. Michael Corner was certainly the most powerful of the non-Slytherin Sons to resign, throwing himself at his schoolwork and leaving his past mistakes in the dirt behind him. Pucey frowned to consider the traitorous Ravenclaw. Grindelwald be praised, at least he didn't spill any of the group's secrets, his own misdeeds made sure he'd keep his mouth shut for fear of compromising himself. Still, despite these losses, the remaining Sons formed the basis of the Brotherhood, being far more ruthless and experienced fighters than their counterparts. Finally, a small smattering of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and a handful of Gryffindors had joined the new group, most out of some foolish idea that they were doing the right thing in opposing Bones and Potter. All told, the Brotherhood of Merlin possessed a full hundred members, though only a small proportion of those were sixth-year or above. Security and secrecy were as tight as they could possibly manage, a hastily-planned training regimen had been applied, and the Brotherhood was well motivated to undertake the formulated campaign.

The plan conceived by Pucey was relatively simple, yet theoretically effective. Rather than throwing themselves against their rivals within Hogwarts or against the Army of the Marauders, the Brotherhood of Merlin would focus their efforts fighting the centaur and other local inhabitants of the Forbidden Forest. Without the aid of magic, the beasts would fall quickly to the wandlore of the Brotherhood, provoking reprisals against Hogwarts and neighbouring Hogsmeade. Faced by the threat of the enraging centaur, Dumbledore would be forced to come down hard upon them or risk his own resignation for endangering the lives of students, in both instances denying the coalition of Light powers to another ally. Any attempt by the Ministry to liberalize human-magical creature relations would reach a standstill, the supremacy of the wizard preserved, all without firing off a single curse at another wizard. Pucey felt supremely pleased with himself as he mentally reviewed the scheme, his chest swelling in pride. And tonight, all the plotting and planning shall finally bear fruit, as the enemy resistance is swept away.

Ignoring the dilapidated conditions surrounding him, Pucey strode across the rotten and broken planks of the Shrieking Shack, listening to the Brotherhood assemble outside. Word to rally at the Shack had been distributed only three days earlier, enough time to ensure they would be prepared, but not so much time as to encourage a leak. The various Brotherhood members had filtered out of the castle in twos and threes so as not to arouse suspicion, taking the less-traveled routes through the greenhouse complex and the grounds before making their way across the frozen hills. Several of them had complained about using the Shrieking Shack as a point of arrival, fearing the legendary spirits that supposedly lingered within the rundown hut. Yet Pucey was not a man to be frightened of ghosts, no matter what tales surrounded them, and reiterated his orders, even threatening to hex his underlings if they did not obey. The building was to be used as a command centre and a place where they might organize themselves, not as a barracks or hostel. He fully intended to be away from the place as soon as possible once the job was done. At the hollow window frames, sentries kept an eye out over the snow as his more senior underlings cursed and bullied the Brotherhood into shape. Moving over to greet his second-in-command, fellow Slytherin Cecil Warrington, Pucey asked, "How's the prisoner doing? I was hoping to beat a few answers out of him before you head out tonight."

Warrington shrugged, as if the issue was none of his concern. "Last time I checked, it's still down there, still secured. Don't worry about an escape; we've had guys watching it non-stop for the past week now. I think we've finally managed to break its spirit, so be my guest. I'll be waiting outside when you're done."

"Alright then," Pucey said. "Get the Brotherhood ready to move. I want the Sons to mingle in with the weaker members, put some spine into the bastards. Myself and Daphne will stay here along with ten members, just in case you guys should screw up. By the way, don't. We have a real opportunity here. We prove ourselves tonight, Fudge's friends in high places might be willing to cut us in for something bigger, understand?"

Pucey's fellow Chaser burned red at his belligerent tone, but refused to be baited. "Relax, man. We've got a hundred wizards and witches here tonight, while the centaur just have bows. We'll get this thing done, no sweat," he answered calmly, making for the door. "I'll give the order."

Leaving Warrington to finish his work, Pucey ventured into the cellar of the Shack, cautiously treading on the steep, rickety steps, receiving nods from the two guards watching over the prisoner. "Hello, animal. Enjoying yourself?"

The young centaur slapped the floor with its hooves in frustration, kicking up dust as it tried to escape. A tiny stall had been constructed to contain the prisoner, while magical chains restrained its arms and rear legs to ensure that escape was impossible. Seven days earlier, the elite forces of the Brotherhood, primarily the former Sons of Enigma, had raided the outlying groves of the Forbidden Forest, seizing a hunting centaur and bringing him back to the Shack for interrogation. Their abduction had been so quick and so bloodless that the centaur had little time to react, and it had served to boost the morale of the Brotherhood. After all, if this first strike had gone so easily, then the actual attack would be a piece of cake! Wouldn't it? As it was, the prisoner had revealed little information regarding his people's movements or their defences, but the sheer propaganda value of parading the creature around had not gone unnoticed. With this victory, the Brotherhood stood confident in their chances of ultimate success, always an excellent frame of mind to go into battle. "You should know that I have no plans on showing mercy for your people, beast, so don't bother asking. The Forbidden Forest belongs to the race of Man; you're simply squatting on the land. Have you anything left to say before I expunge your kind from the Forest?"

Laughing uproariously, the centaur faced his enemy with clever, hostile eyes. "Very well then, human! Enter the Forest girded for war under the red light of Mars. You'll not find us such easy prey! Bane will muster the warherd and scour your ruffians from the face of the earth. Both our bows and the stars above have ordained it!"

Pucey snorted at the creature's rambling mysticism. The centaur were always like this, babbling on about the position of the stars or the alignment of the heavens or some such nonsense. Feeling smug in his presumed superiority, the Slytherin chortled, pointing a mocking finger at the creature. "I look forward to it. Your arrogant kind has stood in the way of wizarding-kind for too long, taunting us with claims of land rights and ancestral territories. You will learn to respect us, or I shall break you!" he screamed, swiftly losing his composure. "When have your people ever deigned to pull yourselves from up off of the earth and construct a civilization? You are barbarians; without laws, without order, without structure and guidance. A race of half-breeds rummaging in the dirt and mumbling voodoo prayers, nothing to be remembered, nothing to be glorified. Now then, if you tell me where the main centaur encampment is, I'll make this much easier for you."

"Never!" the centaur barked back, folding his arms over his chest. "We are the children of Sagittarius, blessed by the moon and stars. We will never fall prey to the likes of you, and I shall never betray my people!"

The bolt of the Stunning Curse struck the centaur hard in the ribs, causing him to collapse with a groan. Pucey smirked as his prisoner fell, and took a cruel, juvenile pleasure in kicking and stomping him as he lay prone on the cellar floor. "Beast," he muttered darkly, making his way back up onto the main floor, taking the time to seize a Brotherhood guard by the collar. "You make sure it doesn't try anything, understand? That being said, keep it alive for the moment, we might be able to use it as a hostage later." If things go sour, he thought to himself, but quickly shoved the thought aside. There would be no defeat for the Brotherhood tonight. There had to be no defeat for the Brotherhood tonight, for this was Pucey's final option, his final avenue to power and glory.

"Plotting again, dear Adrian?" came the lovely, feminine voice, inciting a thrill of pleasure up Pucey's spine. Of all the members of the Brotherhood, the owner of that voice was the only one who could truly command him, the only one who could dissuade him from a course of action or suggest a possible alternative. Dressed in the red robes of the Brotherhood, Daphne Greengrass approached her leader with an amused, impish smile on her cherry-red lips. "I would have thought that the Brotherhood's strategy for this evening would have been finalized by this juncture."

"Just giving us another avenue, Daphne," Pucey replied with genuine friendliness. Since the Brotherhood was established from the ashes of Malfoy's old forces, Daphne had been a constant and welcome presence at his side, helping to organize the group's logistics and communication between its members, as well as providing a source of invaluable council. She was the one who suggested that an attack against the centaur would be more effective and successful than acting against the Army of the Marauders or the Hogwarts student body, and proposed using the Shrieking Shack as a rally point for the attack. Pucey found good advice in her suggestions, and could listen to her without fear of being overthrown or supplanted. While born of a minor pureblood family, her blood credentials were impeccable, and she held herself with strength and dignity, proud of her cultural heritage and her magical abilities. She was also quite pretty, always a bonus in the Slytherin's mind; her short-cropped, spiky dark-red hair and fragile cheekbones giving her an unconventional, angular beauty that Pucey found quite attractive. "Is the Brotherhood finally ready?"

"Yeah, they're assembled outside," Daphne updated him. "The pathfinder team has reported back; the trail we've pounded out is in good shape, and they report no resistance or traps leading up to the Forest edge. I think we're ready for this thing."

Pucey nodded, feeling his heart become blithe in his chest, confident and optimistic. No barriers remained between him and his victory, and his imagination drifted to visions of triumph. He would return to the Slytherin dormitories a hero, winning the respect of his peers, the patronage of Fudge's elite supporters, and the attention of the House's girls. With the prestige gained from this victory, he would have the resources and influence needed to raise an army of Slytherins and finish off Potter once and for all. The teachers would rule the classrooms but he would rule Hogwarts, even long after he left. It was an intoxicating sensation and he revelled in it. "Excellent!" he shouted uproariously, drawing a concerned glance from Daphne. "Tell Warrington to move out, I want a dozen centaur hides for my dormitory before the sun rises. I shall stay here to coordinate our activities, and I'd like for you to be at my side."

Daphne's lovely face grew hard and cold in response, and she turned away from the Brotherhood leader, poison entering her words. "So this is how I am to serve the Brotherhood? As a trophy of battle, a pet to keep safe from danger? I joined the group because I wanted to serve my people and preserve our civilization, not so I could be admired from afar. How dare you deny me this chance at glory?"

"You will serve me well here, Daphne, I have need of your organizational skills to coordinate our attack," Pucey explained with a hint of malice. "And remember that you serve the Brotherhood and thus you serve me, so do as you're told. Battle is no place for women. You're a smart girl; you should have realized that by now."

"How could I forget?" Daphne replied, turning her head away as Pucey came up behind her, placing his hands at her shoulders. "Pucey…"

"I'm sorry, Daphne," Pucey said, turning her to face him. "But I feel responsible for you. You have done a great deal to aid the Brotherhood, and without your leadership and guidance, this endeavour would have fallen apart by now. But your skills to not extend into combat, and the centaur are a fierce opponent. Perhaps such lesser, barbarian races would expose their women to that kind of danger, but I would hope that we purebloods are far more civilized than that. Besides…" His voice dropped to a low, conspiratorial whisper. "If the battle should go poorly, I'll need to make sure that the best of the Brotherhood make it through unscathed. I would not have you face imprisonment at the hands of Bones' Ministry. You will have glory enough when we succeed, don't worry about that."

"Perhaps…" Daphne conceded the point. "In that case, I'll do a final check of the defences; make sure everything is in place. It'll give me something to do, at least."

The leader of the Brotherhood laughed. "As always, your devotion inspires me! Return once you are finished, and tell the guards to join the others outside for a moment," he said, dismissing the girl, watching her dancer's frame move beneath the folds of her robes. Perhaps after he had finished grinding the centaur beneath his boots, he'd conquer Daphne and enjoy the comforts of power with her. She was certainly a pleasant distraction, and having power was pointless if you had no one to show it off to. Through his remaining underlings and supporters, the imprisoned Cornelius Fudge had promised Pucey great things if he would complete this task, including a place of privilege once the ousted former Minister took control once again. But now, to meet my loyal followers, he reminded himself, making his way one of the Shack's large bedroom windows, looking over the full hundred Brotherhood members who paraded in review, even the sentries watching over the Shack part of the performance. "My brothers!" he declared in a loud voice, puffing out his chest and adopting a suitably impressive booming tone. "My brothers, the Wizarding World faces a great crisis today. The halls of power reek with subversion and betrayal as Minister Bones betrays every value our great country stands for. Simpletons and fools like Potter and Dumbledore consort with werewolves, pagans, and other lesser creatures. Today, however, we take a stand against such mindless change. Today, we fight for the wizarding race and set right this world. Order will be restored and the grand destiny of wizardingkind fulfilled. Onward to the Forbidden Forest! Destroy all the mongrel centaur you find! To victory!"

Cheers erupted from the Brotherhood, and Pucey allowed himself to relax. Nothing will stand in my way tonight!

Daphne Greengrass finished her examination of the area around the Shrieking Shack, distinctly pleased to note that the attentions of the sentries had been drawn towards Pucey's bombastic speech. The windows and loopholes where the Brotherhood guards had been stationed stood vacant, as per Pucey's orders, giving her ample opportunity to signal the others. The vain fool had demanded that the entire Brotherhood be present for whatever diatribe he had planned, but a quick After-Image Charm, combined with the sheer numbers assembled, made certain she wouldn't be missed. Having bought herself a few precious minutes, Daphne strode silently to the rear windows facing Hogwarts, trying to ignore the racist slander being perpetrated outside.

The lovely Slytherin girl shuddered as she remembered Pucey's hands on her shoulders. The Brotherhood leader had made his intentions for her quite apparent, and doubtlessly intended on following through once the immediate task had been dealt with. Fortunately, Pucey was smart enough to keep his hands to himself for the moment, the only thing that made this mission the least bit bearable. When her superiors heard of the racist Slytherin's growing attraction to her, they offered to abort the mission out rather than see her get hurt or molested. Daphne had declined, not wanting someone to get hurt due to her personal discomfort. She'd just have to endure it the best she could. For the most part, she was successful in distracting or deflecting Pucey's attentions, but she knew that wouldn't last for long. Fortunately, she had a chance to finish it tonight, to crush the Brotherhood so deep underfoot it would never rise again. Peeking outside the window, Daphne was relieved to see that the north-eastern edge of the Shack was completely deserted, simplifying things considerably. "Heraut!" she intoned sharply, watching as the tip of her wand glowed red, flickering in the primitive Muggle pattern known as Morse Code. Eighty head north. Twenty stay here. The gate is down. Be ready.

From up in one of Hogwart's many towers, a blue light responded: Understood. The plan goes ahead. Be preparedDaphne breathed a sigh of relief. Even if she was discovered now, the wheels of their plan were already turning and could not be stopped by her capture or death. Settling herself down on a rickety wooden chair, the double agent closed her eyes and waited.

Cecil Warrington kicked a few Brotherhood members back onto the path, angrily cursing at them for stumbling onto the deep snowbanks that surrounded their trail. A few days earlier, the Brotherhood had carved out the trail from the snow-covered slopes, pounding it beneath their feet and turning it into a suitable roadway for the attack force to travel on. Freed from the labour of trudging through the glacial landscape, the Brotherhood would make much better time travelling to the Forbidden Forest, with more energy and stamina for the attack itself. The path was broad enough that three people might comfortably walk abreast, but there was always the occasional fighter who either stumbled off or was pushed by a rowdy compatriot. "Knock it off, people! You'll have plenty of fun fighting the centaur!"

The perpetrators stoically ignored him. Discipline had long been a problem in the ranks of the Brotherhood. Most of their members had little respect for their leadership, and were only fighting for their own selfish goals or hateful ideologies. In turn, the leaders of the group demanded obedience rather than earning respect, only alienating themselves further from their followers. The more Warrington considered it, the more he felt that the Brotherhood was in shambles, too diffused, too unorganized and too egotistical. Very little training had been undertaken by the group, for Pucey was relying upon the pre-existing duelling skills of the Brotherhood and the superiority of wandlore to triumph over the centaur. It was overconfidence, plain and simple, but Pucey wouldn't hear of it, and that silly tart Greengrass wouldn't convince him otherwise. Not for the first time, Warrington considered what he was doing there, working alongside such fools. He considered himself a loyal, valuable pureblood, an enemy of blood-traitors like Potter and Dumbledore, potentially even a true servant of Voldemort. And Pucey's bold plan would pay off if successful, the centaur reprisals forcing Dumbledore to resign and the Ministry to crack down, which would only help their cause. It was not the plan that worried the Slytherin Chaser, but the prospects for pulling it off, and given that their bold leader had decided to sit this one out to be in Daphne Greengrass' charming company, it only fuelled his worries. Still, with eighty wizards of varying years accompanying him, he doubted this attack could go south. They had strength of numbers and the element of surprise, and his craven heart hoped that would be enough.

Scotland in February was a frigid, often brutally cold environment, particularly in an area so distant from Muggle civilization. Hogwarts had seen a series of heavy snowfalls blanket the region over the past few weeks, shrouding it and the nearby woodlands under a firm white blanket, leaving it very difficult to move cross-country. The night itself was cold but dry, the relative darkness doing more to reduce their eyesight with no blowing snow contributing. Warrington took stock of their surroundings, chivvying some of the lazier Brotherhood troopers forward. To the north-east lay Hogwarts itself along with the Greenhouses and the grounds, considered off-limits with regards to this mission, while the Shrieking Shack was but a few minutes south. North lay the western periphery of the Forbidden Forest, where they had captured the centaur hunter, and was likely to be the location of their main encampment. South-west of the Shrieking Shack and blocked off from travel by wooden fencing stood Hogsmeade, still in the process of being rebuilt since the Death Eater attack, along with the train station linking Hogwarts to King's Cross via the Hogwarts Express. The main road running east between Hogsmeade and the castle was guarded by a series of small Auror watchposts, and the Brotherhood had orders not to engage the Aurors whatsoever, both from Pucey and his mysterious backer.

Finally, immediately east of the Brotherhood's march stood a small copse of pines traditionally known amongst the Hogwarts students as the Lonely Wood. Devoid of the more exotic magical fauna that characterized the Forbidden Forest, the Lonely Wood had been declared acceptable for student exploration by Hogwarts for many years now, but few went out of their way to visit the place. After all, where was the excitement or the adventure in visiting a place that the teachers said was acceptable? Beyond that, the terrain was marked with gentle hills and rolling slopes, and while not high enough to make a hiker out of breath traversing them, they could serve to conceal enemy forces if they were well-placed. The Brotherhood pathfinders had reported nothing out of the ordinary, and no force could travel across this terrain swiftly without magical aid. Then why was it that a chill crept up his spine, and his breathing sounded worried and harsh in his ears? Was this the calm before the storm, the brief pause of tranquility, the stillness before the chaos of battle? Was he afraid, nervous, insecure, or was he simply realizing now that the battle was lost before it even began?

Shouts of panic were quickly cut off as the right flank of the Brotherhood began to disintegrate under accurate curses, catching the complacent wizards completely unawares. Confusion boiled through the ranks as friends and comrades fell, and a full six of their number had been cut down by Stunners before Warrington realized what was happening. "Ambush!" he cried, shoving Brotherhood members towards the danger. "Hex back, you idiots! Push them away!" A nearby trooper flew backwards as if jerked by a rope thanks to a Reductor Curse between the shoulder blades. Conjuring a Shield Charm, Warrington hit the snow, barking out to his forces, "Hit them! Hit them!" as the shock rose in his voice.

Focusing his attention on the crumbling right flank, Warrington was shocked to see that the ranks of the foe numbered only a dozen, yet they did tremendous damage compared to their small presence. Wearing pure white robes, cloak and hood, the attackers blended into the snowy terrain excellently, which doubtlessly had helped them to sneak up on the Brotherhood unnoticed. A symbol of some kind was sewn onto the chest of their robes, but Warrington found himself too far away to get a good look at it. The attackers, men and women both, were obviously expert duellists, given the sheer amount of well-aimed curses and hexes they flung out, overwhelming the defences of the Brotherhood. Eventually, the wizard supremacists began to retake the initiative, bringing their greater numbers and wands to bear against the ambushers, peppering the area with jets of red and purple light. One of the attackers fell from a Stunning Curse, his comrades pulling him to safety out of the line of fire. The apparent leader of the group saw this and blew a whistle sharply three times, ordering a retreat. Like smoke, the attackers vanished, slipping away into the Lonely Wood under the cover of Sea-Fog Charms, leaving behind them a dozen unconscious Brotherhood members. "Patrick! Patrick!" Warrington cried out, kicking the troopers back onto their feet. "Do you see them?"

"Not now, but they definitely went into the Lonely Wood!" Patrick Bradley replied, the fifth-year Ravenclaw moving over to his comrade-in-arms. Bradley had been one of the Ravenclaw Sons when Malfoy was running the group, and had accepted Pucey's new order without reservation in the name of blood purity. "Where in Grindelwald's name did they come from?"

"Doesn't matter now! Let's just send them to their graves!" Warrington snarled, shamed and humiliated by the sudden attack, boiling the blood in his veins. Grabbing Bradley's shoulder, he ratted out orders rapidly. "Take a score of the Brotherhood, including five of the Sons, and head into the Lonely Wood. Find those bastards and put an end to them; use whatever means necessary! We'll move on to the Forest and continue the attack. Don't fail!" Pushing Bradley aside, Warrington motioned to another Brotherhood member, this time a fourth-year Slytherin looking distinctly terrified and uncertain. "You! Run back to the Shrieking Shack and tell Pucey what happened here. Tell him to be ready!"

As the Brotherhood scurried into action, Warrington forced his group into a harsh march, hoping to reach the Forbidden Forest unscathed by another strike. Leaving the fallen goons where they lay, the Slytherin furrowed his brows angrily. When I find whoever did this, they'll find themselves wishing they were the centaur by the time I'm done with the bastards!

As the Sea-Fog Charms enveloped the area in clouds of thick mist, Luna Lovegood led the Ghosts towards the Lonely Wood, her steps falling lightly on the packed snow. Her squad of Marauders had planned their route out beforehand, even creating a trail of snowprints to follow, enabling them to reach the relative safety of the copse swiftly and silently. The burden of their stricken fellow did not hinder them either. Luna's squad had trained time and time again for such an eventuality, honing their hit-and-run tactics in mock skirmishes with other squads of the Army of the Marauders. "Once we've hit the treeline, set Justin down and make sure he's alright," she whispered quietly, moving to allow her fighters to reach the safety of the Wood before her. "Hannah, take your section and keep harassing them. Try and see if you can divide their forces, then lure them towards us. We'll be waiting in the middle for them. Good luck!"

"Some sweet sixteenth, huh Luna?" Hannah Abbott asked jokily, gesturing some of the Ghosts to her. "Just keep careful, I wouldn't want to face Neville if you wind up hurt."

"I can handle Neville, but it's more important that we take out this group before they can link up with the main force again," Luna emphasized, showing off a more cunning, strategic side, her normally whimsical and imaginative thoughts tempered this evening into cold steel. Harry, Cho and Neville were counting on her, and she wanted to prove that their trust in her was warranted. She had been given one of the most dangerous and enticing responsibilities in the world; command over a group of warriors, the lives of over a dozen people resting in her hands. Luna had not sought out this position, but her strong duelling skills and combat experience led Harry to bestow the mantle upon the fifth-year Ravenclaw regardless. You're simply too good not to be a squad leader, Luna, he had told her, countering her objections. It's not a question of politics, and as much as I consider you a friend, even that doesn't enter into this. You're just good, and we need combat-proven witches like you if the Army is going to work. At first, Luna was doubtful that the squad would even follow her orders, but they had accepted her with few reservations. Luna was experienced, she was fairly powerful, and Harry's seal of approval was enough to convince them. Since the Army of the Marauders had been re-organized into squads, the Ghosts had carved out a niche as a hit-and-run unit, able to hold their own in an engagement but preferring to tease and harry the enemy along.

Motioning the five remaining Marauder volunteers under cover, Luna felt a tremble of anticipation rush up her slender frame, her heart pounding with the tension and adrenaline. She never really considered herself a violent or heroic person, just someone who wanted to do the right thing; whether it was join Dumbledore's Army in their resistance against Umbridge, aid Harry and his friends in the Department of Mysteries, or defend her fellow students from the Death Eaters in Hogsmeade. Now, however, excitement welled up at her breast and she found herself wishing that the enemy would come in full force. It would be a chance to test herself, to prove herself, to show that she was so much more than "Loony Lovegood," that she could be just as heroic as Harry or Cho when the need arose. At the faintest edge of her hearing, screams sounded as Hannah and her five Marauders went to work picking away at the Brotherhood reprisal force, splitting their numbers apart and drawing them away from each other. "Wait for my word to start firing, not a moment before," she quietly told her troops, receiving low nods in response. Silence and surprise formed the fulcrum of her plan; if they were lost, the Ghosts would fall. More cries of pain sounded throughout the copse, but the Ravenclaw simply tightened her pure-white cloak about her and settled down to wait.

The ambush of the Ghosts lit a fire under the Brotherhood, and they stormed towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest with reckless haste, legs pumping, feet crushing down on the packed snow. Rather than risk dividing his forces any further by sending out a vanguard to clear the path ahead, Warrington elected to have the Brotherhood stuck together to concentrate their firepower. It was a fatal error on his part. As it was, he had no idea as to what lay beyond the immediate confines beyond the Shrieking Shack, particularly as he got closer to the Forest itself. The last reconnaissance survey suggested that no resistance existed to confound them, but it was over a half hour old, and the attack by Luna's forces suggested that it was in error. In short, Warrington was quite taken aback when the front ranks of the Brotherhood crossed the threshold of a low hill and began being thrown aside by powerful curses. He had been expecting another incursion before they arrived at the Forbidden Forest, but definitely not one of this severity and strength. "What the hell?" he swore, pushing his way to the front, narrowly missing a speeding Reductor Curse in the process.

About fifty witches and wizards had positioned themselves in battle formations on a nearby hill overlooking the Brotherhood, firing volleys of well-aimed curses into the mass of teeming wizard supremacists. They wore robes and cloaks of jet black, with varying designs of their shoulder pauldrons to distinguish between different units within the overall formation. Looking over the enemy ranks, Warrington saw Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws fighting together in the same units, using their wands at ranges that most of the Brotherhood would consider impossible. Then there was the emblem sewn into their robes and affixing the standard carried in the middle of the formation, the same symbol he saw in the white-cloaked attackers just minutes earlier. A serpent, raven, lion and badger pursuing on another in an endless circle, within which a great sword and wand sat crossed over into an "x" shape. The symbol of the Army of the Marauders, Warrington realized, feeling the blood drain from his face. And standing at the forefront of the enemy army was none other than that Gryffindor bastard Potter, shouting out encouragement to his fellows and aiding in the barrage. Next to him stood a large centaur who coolly watched the progress of the battle. Reaching new heights of frenzy, Warrington raised his wand, dragging some of the more stubborn Brotherhood members forward. "This is it, lads! Wipe the floor with that little pissant! Charge!"

It had not taken long for the Army of the Marauders to establish themselves on the snowy hill, waiting for the enemy scouts to return and report before moving into position, often using brooms to deploy squads quickly. Levitation Charms also helped the Army to traverse the deep snow, and they had assembled quickly to meet the Brotherhood threat. The hill gave them a decent height-advantage over the wizarding supremacists, and the natural terrain offered some cover against enemy curses. "Steady, everyone! Hold your ground!" Harry cried, watching the faces of the Army grimly set. "Give them all you got!"

A mighty roar of defiance sounded from the Army and their curses flew faster than ever. Next to Harry, the wise centaur Firenze cast an appraising glance over the student militia. "Your warriors are indeed well trained, Harry Potter. Those who would murder my people will not stand for long against you."

"Don't count your eggs before they're in the pudding, Firenze," Harry reminded him, firing off a Stunner and catching a burly Brotherhood member in the gut. "And don't worry about them running, we're ready for that."

"Most humans would not lower themselves to aiding my people," Firenze stated with no small measure of distaste. "Nor would my people desire to be aided by humans. What brought you here to this hill, Harry Potter, to fight for a people that are too proud and haughty to accept the assistance of others? What brought you and your warriors out here to possibly die?"

Harry shook his head, intercepting a Bludgeoning Hex heading for the centaur astrologer with one of his own, the twin spells booming like thunder when they collided. "No one is dying today, Firenze, either us, your people or the members of this Brotherhood. Besides, quite frankly, we can use all of the allies we can get." Letting his wand hand rest at his side momentarily, Harry took the opportunity to examine how each squad was doing, and the progression of the overall battle. Harry regretted that he was often forced to take a hands-off approach when leading the Army of the Marauders, a fact that proved galling. As much as his duelling skills were handy, he needed to make sure the entire group was performing well, and react to changing battlefield circumstances, something he couldn't realistically do in the midst of an adrenaline-fuelled bloodlust. Cho's good sense must be rubbing off on me, he considered, a sardonic, trickster smile coming to him. "Natalie, ready the red pennant. They'll break soon, so Ginny's squad will have to keep 'em pinned."

At the centre of the Marauder's formation, Neville's squad, designated the Indefatigable, held firm against the Brotherhood advance. Neville had secured his position well, having his troops dig into the snows to create impromptu foxholes supported by conjured barricades. With these defences established, the Indefatigable were able to avoid the brunt of the Brotherhood's spells, reducing causalities. Harry watched as the once-shy Gryffindor urged his squad on to greater heights of resistance, motivating them forward. While not the strongest offensively of the Marauder squads, the Indefagitable were definitely the toughest defensively. The Brotherhood strike smashed against Neville's squad like waves upon a cliff-face, stopped dead in their tracks. Harry knew his friend would die before surrendering, and that front would not fall while he could still fire a curse.

Next, Susan Bones led her Praetorians at the right flank of the Marauder formation, sending clockwork volleys of curses into the Brotherhood, their position on the hilltop enabling them to do tremendous damage to the flanks of the enemy force and burrow down into the centre. Much like the British redcoat battalions that faced off against the armies of Napoleon two centuries earlier, the Praetorians fought in two ranks, exchanging spell variety for sheer firepower, firing off dozens of accurate curses to overwhelm the enemy. Nothing could stand under such devastating barrages, and the Brotherhood was slowly forced back, foot by foot. It was marvellous in its mechanical perfection, the sheer purity of it. The Praetorians just kept up the pressure, only disrupting the barrages to move a wounded comrade back to the medics or focus on a specific target.

On the left flank stood Hermione's Exemplars, raking the Brotherhood from stem to stern with their powerful spells. Under the erudite Gryffindor's guidance, this squad had cultivated some of the most powerful duellists in the Army, each member of the Exemplars skilled in a variety of eccentric and useful combat spells. "Adsulto verber hinc inde!" Hermione cried, weaving her wand in a great arc and sending waves of white luminous energy slamming into the close Brotherhood ranks, rendering four of their number unconscious. A pair of Marauders began transfiguring the enemy into iguanas, while another swiftly dispatched his foes with a Drunkenness Curse, immediately taking them out of the fight. Beside them, partially sheltered by the slope of the hill, stood Ron's squad, the Red Lions. Harry elected to keep them reserve for the moment, unleashing their strength only when the need was dire. Still, Ron's Marauder volunteers did some damage, picking off Brotherhood members who fled the greater formation, as well as contributing to the overall barrage.

The Brotherhood's advance ground to a halt. To walk into the fury of a hurricane would have been a more feasible proposition than advance into that storm of curses. The Brotherhood had been expecting a quick and easy victory against a "savage" people, not a determined assault by a highly trained and organized foe such as this. For the most part, they had practiced duelling on an individual level in close-quarters, with Duelling Club rules, perfect for schoolyard fights but not real war. The Army of the Marauders was hitting targets at up to a hundred yards, far below the range of longbows or Muggle firearms, but certainly reaching the maximum distance of wand-cast curses. Returning spells from the Brotherhood were simply inaccurate or poorly cast, resulting in few hits. Whenever a knot of the group attempted to advance and charge up the hill, the Army of the Marauders focused their attacks on such rushes and cut them to pieces. Quickly, Harry could see the Brotherhood stretched to the breaking point. "Red pennant!" he cried out to Natalie McDonald, the Army's standard bearer. Tapping the banner-pole thrice against the ground caused the standard to morph into a deep shade of red. Natalie waved the standard in three great circles, signalling the next element in Harry's trap.

Had the Brotherhood of Merlin been paying attention to the edge of their pathway, they might have noticed a series of small holes penetrating the crust of the snow, each no larger than a Muggle coin. As it was, the wizarding supremacists were too concerned with other matters to truly pay attention, and it would cost them dearly. In response to the signal from Natalie, the snow burst open beneath the feet of the Brotherhood, inciting terrified screams. Throwing her head back in a howling scream, Ginny Weasley and her Hellions leapt from their camouflaged pits and attacked the Brotherhood from behind, falling upon them like Norse berserkers. They were a fearsome sight, each Hellion wearing professional-carved tengu masks, giving them an altogether demonic appearance. The rear of the Brotherhood attack force simply collapsed under the pressure as Ginny's squad tore into them like wild dogs. "Have at them!" Ginny shrieked from behind her pine-wood dragon mask, her auburn eyes revealing exhilaration. Discharging a Stunner into the face of a panicked Brotherhood member, the fiery Gryffindor pressed the attack, Transfiguring an enemy's hand with the Fumbus Curse. "Hound them, hound them, drive them to ground!"

With their retreat cut off and facing fire from both front and behind, whoever was leading the Brotherhood ordered his remaining troops to form an infantry square. Barely thirty by this point, the Brotherhood fired numerous curses against both threats, digging in for their final stand. The Hellions began to take casualties now, three of their number falling before Ginny ordered them to pull back, taking five Brotherhood members out for her troubles. More fell from the rain of spells atop the hill, but Harry was starting to get nervous. "Blue pennant!" he ordered, his face hardening. In a final act of defiance, the Brotherhood could unleash more powerful Dark spells, perhaps even the Unforgivables, whatever their flagging stamina would permit. Harry would not see a single Marauder fall to such wickedness, not when victory was so close. Better to hit the enemy with everything they had rather than see that happen.

At first, the pitch-black sky managed to conceal the movement of Cho's unit, but the rustle of the wind through the straws soon alerted the Brotherhood to the eight figures mounted on brooms, racing towards them like speeding arrows. Wands raised, curses flashed, but too late. The Ravenwing dove at the enemy, Cho leading the formation on her Firebolt, evading the spells of the Brotherhood with languished ease. Black spheres were thrown into the middle of the wizarding supremacists, non-lethal flashbang grenades developed by Blaise, a variant of her fragmentation devices. In the middle of such a packed formation, the effect was nothing short of catastrophic. The infantry square fell, blinded and concussed, losing cohesion and falling apart.

"Now, Ron!" Harry barked. "Drive these buggers off my hill!"

"Red Lions, advance!" Ron bellowed in his best drill-sergeant voice, receiving cheers from his squad in reply. "Draw your clubs and get stuck in!" With great speed, the Red Lions vaulted over the lip of the hill, drawing solid oak truncheons the size of Beater clubs. The squad could perform quite well with wand-based duelling, but the real strength of Ron's unit lay in the heavy cudgels they held and the strong men and women who wielded them. Bounding down the hill, Ron struck the first foe solidly across the face, chipping teeth in the man's mouth and sending him to the ground. Another Brotherhood member, having only just recovered from the flashbangs, fired off a Reductor Curse, eyes widening in shock when the spell ricocheted off the magically-reinforced shoulder pauldron, the flexible plate absorbing and diverting the blow. Ron responded with a savage blow to the belly, doubling the guilty party over. "For the Marauders!" he shouted the battle-cry of the Army, literally leaping into the enemy ranks, bowling two of the enemy over with his charge. Then the rest of the Red Lions were there, swiftly disarming the Brotherhood with club and wand, cracking heads and breaking hands. That tore it for the last few resisters. Strafed from above by the curses of the Ravenwing, pummelled by the weapons of the Red Lions and hexed from a dozen angles, what remained of the Brotherhood turned and fled. They did not ask for surrender or mercy, and received none, cut down and Stunned before they could take a dozen steps. It had taken barely five minutes, but the Brotherhood of Merlin was crushed all the same, while the Army of the Marauders suffered only a dozen injured and unconscious. Pucey's plan had failed.

The Army of the Marauders cheered in their victory, offering high-fives and congratulations all-round. Ron quickly silenced them. "Job ain't done yet!" he reminded them, as he and the other squad leaders gathered around Harry. "Harry! Mind if I take a bunch of the mates and get to the Shack? I don't want Barbie to get there before I do and steal all the thunder."

"We need to finish detaining the Brotherhood members here and securing their wands before we can think of anything else," Hermione interjected. "And there's still Luna's squad to assist. We haven't heard anything from them yet. Do you think she was successful?"

"The enemy's numbers were somewhat smaller than reported, so I'm sure she was," Cho added. "I'll take the Ravenwing and head over to the Lonely Wood; we'll be able to respond much faster than the rest of the Marauders if Luna's in any trouble."

Harry nodded. "Good idea. You should head out quickly though. As much as I trust Luna, I don't want to see her unsupported, especially when the enemy might be desperate enough to kill by this point."

"I'll go with her," Neville suggested, concern for the slender Ravenclaw chiselled into the marble of his face.

"While I can certainly understand your desire, Neville, between Cho and Luna, I consider the situation dealt with already. How about you and Hermione head over to the Shrieking Shack? Blaise should be in position by this point. If she hasn't taken the Shack by this point, then you can help her mop up."

"Remember that the Brotherhood will have probably fortified the Shack from outside assaults, and if they feel like their backs are against the wall, they could kill the hostage," Cho reminded them, inserting her wand back into the spring-loaded wand holster at her right wrist. "Keeping their captured hunter alive is the only thing that will make the centaur trust us. Should he die, nothing we say or do, not even this victory here, will make them change their minds. Once the rest of you have finished up here, you should definitely head over to the Shack, just in case." The beautiful Ravenclaw shook her head, as if disappointed with her own lack of confidence. "I know I might be overreacting, but still…"

Harry gently squeezed her hand in reassurance. "It's a worthwhile warning, to be honest. Alright then, let's get to it. Ron, Ginny, see if you can find the group's leader in all this mess. I want to know who's to blame for this, Firenze too."

"Sure thing, Harry," Ron said, moving to make inquiries. The squad leaders split up, moving to their separate duties. Neville and Hermione took their squads straight for the Shrieking Shack, borrowing a half-dozen additional Marauders to act as scouts, while the Ravenwing flew towards the Lonely Wood at top speed. Other Marauders proceeded to securing the incapacitated Brotherhood members, taking their wands and corralling them into groups. Harry and Firenze strode across the snowy plain as Ron and Susan brought a tall, sandy-haired boy forward, his face covered in pustules and bruises. "Think this might be the one, mate. Several of the Marauders said that this git was leading the charge, ordering the Brotherhood around."

Harry looked at the prisoner in question, his eyes narrowing in recognition. "Warrington, right? You grabbed Ginny by the hair during the Gryffindor/Slytherin match as I seem to recall. Where's Pucey?"

"Slag you!" Warrington shouted, lunging for Harry, only to be stopped by Ron's firm grip. "I ain't telling you nothing! Go ahead and run to Dumbledore, you Gryffindor piece of shit, but I won't say a word."

Warrington's choler was silenced as Firenze angrily approached, the normally serene centaur livid at the human's irrational hatred. "I am outcast, Cecil Warrington of Slytherin House, cast out from the herd, denied the embrace of kinship for my association with humans. I have no more place amongst my people for the sin of working with those not of my kind. Yet, for all their flaws, they are my people and I will not allow them to come to harm. You attempted to intrude upon the Forest under the banner of Mars and destroy our homes, murder our young, scatter the teachings of the moon and stars to the winds. Tell me why I should not hand you over to the justice of the centaur. Tell me why I should heed Harry Potter's advice and send you to the Aurors. Give me a reason."

Harry spoke next. "We know all about Pucey and his plans, about the strength of the Brotherhood, your intentions for the centaur, everything. We also know that Pucey has a backer of some sort that he hasn't fully revealed to you. The Brotherhood is finished, Warrington. If you promise to cooperate, we might go easy on you."

"Perhaps it is time for me to find a new job," the Slytherin smiled coldly, shaking off Ron's grip. "Pucey's in the Shrieking Shack with a dozen more members and the prisoner. He said he didn't want the thing escaping, but the spineless little turd probably just wanted to keep out of harm's way while the rest of us fought. You have a plan for keeping the creature alive?" he asked wickedly, ignoring Firenze's horrified stare.

"Of course," Harry replied. The young Gryffindor was smart enough not to give away vital information to an enemy, but by Merlin Warrington had angered him! Shaking his head at the sheer pointless, racist stupidity of the Brotherhood's entire enterprise, the Champion allowed his composure to crack slightly. "In fact, by now the Shrieking Shack should be ours, and your stupid display finished once and for all. Get him out of here," he ordered in a sharp, unforgiving tone. As Warrington was dragged away, Harry turned his attention in the direction of the Shrieking Shack, uttering a silent prayer for Blaise, hoping that she'd finish her mission without getting hurt in the process. Cho was right; if Blaise fails, all of this will have been for nothing. Please make it work, Blaise, that's all I can ask.

Adrian Pucey's mind whirled and he paced anxiously around the main room of the Shrieking Shack, seeing his grand plan crumble into dust before him. How could everything have gone so wrong, so quickly? He had barely settled down to flirt with Daphne on the shredded and moth-eaten mattress when a messenger from the attack group burst in babbling about an ambush next to the Lonely Wood. Details were scant and ill-described, so Pucey sent the boy out again to figure out what was happening. That had been fifteen minutes ago, and no word had been heard from them since, only increasing his anxiety. Setting the guards on full alert, Pucey considered the possible extent of the counterattack. The worst case scenario was that it was a full-blown raid by the Aurors to take out the Brotherhood, a possibility that seemed extremely likely as time passed. The minutes passed like molten lead, and he could do nothing to assuage the fear that gnawed away at him. "Daphne!" he cried anxiously, storming over to one of the sentries. "Where's Daphne?"

The sentry shook his head, inconsiderate to his questioning, which only aggravated Pucey further. Noting to punish the insolent guard once the night was done, the Slytherin Chaser continued his search for the elusive girl, having apparently vanished into thin air. The Shrieking Shack was a relatively small, confined space, there were certainly few places that she could be. The living room, of course, the tiny attic, the basement…

Pucey stopped in his tracks, the horrifying, revolting truth starting to dawn. Who was it that had full knowledge of the Brotherhood's plans? Who was it that suggested striking the centaur in the first place, bringing them out of the Hogwarts grounds where they might be ambushed and harassed at will? Were her earlier demands to be let out onto the battlefield an act, a charade? Perhaps it was just the tension and nervousness getting to him, but Pucey began rushing towards the basement, calling out to the guards, "Bring Daphne Greengrass to me, immediately! I want a team in the basement ri-".

Earlier, Pucey had stationed guards on the steps leading into the basement, but left none inside the basement itself. At the time, it had seemed like a sensible course of action, the prisoner was confined, unconscious and could not scale the steps regardless, the manpower was needed elsewhere, and there were no other approaches into the basement other than through the steps. Unfortunately for the Brotherhood, however, there was another way into the Shrieking Shack. The Whomping Willow tunnel had lain deserted and unused since the night Sirius Black had escaped from the long arm of the Ministry yet again, the exit shaft undisturbed behind a false floorboard. Now, however, it came ominously to life, spilling forth nine black-cloaked women from the cellar, catching the Brotherhood guards completely by surprise. The same tactic the Death Eaters had used to seize Azkaban was employed here, and this sudden infiltration was met with panic and disarray. Flash grenades detonated with resounding booms, and the Brotherhood troopers staggered back from the flash, giving the attackers an opening, sinking their proverbial fangs into the Brotherhood's jugular. At the right upper arm of each attacker, a swatch of green cloth had been bound; the mark of the Inflitrators and their squad leader, Blaise Zabini.

One of the Brotherhood guards recovered, bringing his wand up in a conjuration. Instantly, one of the attackers was upon him, slamming down on his wand-hand with a polished oak escrima baton, causing him to drop the instrument. The cloaked feminine figure followed up by striking her batons into the enemy's stomach and head in rapid succession, sending him to the ground. Another Brotherhood member attempted to intervene, only to be cut down by a Reductor Curse in the shoulder, breaking the bone. Howling in pain, the wizarding supremacist was easy prey for a solid kick to the gut, folding him in twain. The black cloaked attackers used a combination of hand-to-hand weaponry, wand-cast spells and unarmed combat to great effect, casually tearing through the enemy with almost languished ease.

Pucey was no coward when his blood was roused. "Drive them back! Drive them back or we're finished! Fight!" he cried, storming into the fray, firing off a Cruciatus Curse. Inwardly, Pucey was shocked at the situation had gotten so bad as to warrant the use of Unforgivables, but he had no intention of being arrested regardless. He had to win, or at the very least escape, no matter the cost. If he could extract it from his enemies, all the better.

His target dodged the Cruciatus, staring angrily back at him with clear blue eyes, twirling her wand in great, concentric arcs. Four of the Brotherhood, Pucey included, were cast aside as if thrown by a gale-force wind, tearing the rat-eaten wallpaper and sending clouds of dust billowing around their boots in miniature cyclones. A strange hum descended over the Shack, and Pucey felt his hair stand on end as green light burst from the fingertips of the blue-eyed assailant. The effect on the Brotherhood was not lost on the black-cloaked women, who continued to mount the pressure, sending curses flying everywhere. Wands flashed, Brotherhood members fell, curses tore open sections of the Shack and sent splinters flying, and the reek of ozone became so thick as to make breathing difficult.

And then the wraiths came. Red eyed, sharp in tooth and claw, gnarled and twisted bodies of smoke, formed from the depth of the human imagination and the illusionary powers of the energies of Slytherin, they leapt from the darkness to devour the Brotherhood troopers and drag them into the depths of hell. Blaise had come far since that night in the North Tower, gaining a level of control over the magic she had once thought impossible, with a little help from Cho and Harry. The energies still frightened her, but she had grown to understand, perhaps even respect, the possibilities and dangers that went along with them. The stark, incredible terror that once gripped her was no more, and Blaise had found new strength as a Champion and a Marauder to combat these fears.

For the Brotherhood, though, the terror was just beginning as the wraiths swooped upon them on leathery wings, hissing and screeching like a flock of angry bats. Nothing, not even the voice of Merlin himself, could keep the wizarding supremacists in check, and they bolted, screaming in fright as the wraiths descended upon them, tearing at their hair and clothing. It was purely illusionary, yet it did not stop the enemy from breaking down completely. Like beads on a string, the final vestiges of the Brotherhood broke, running for their lives and scurrying out of every possible exit like rats in a flood. Those few who managed to escape the wraiths and Inflitrator spellfire wandered into the loving arms of Neville and Hermione's squads, who made certain that they would not escape.

Caught square in the chest with a Reductor Curse, Pucey could only lay on the rotten floor of the Shack, completely stunned, the wind driven from his lungs with the force of a jackhammer. Seeing the Inflitrators hovering over him unnervingly, he could only ask, "What the hell are you whores looking at?"

Movement flashed in the corner of his eye, and a curse slipped from his tongue. "You traitorous little whore," he hissed angrily, attempting to rise, only to be pinned down beneath the girl's boot. "To think that I ever trusted you!"

Dressed in the black robes and cloak of the Army of the Marauders, Daphne Greengrass smiled wickedly. "You can't betray something you had no loyalty to in the first place, Adrian darling. Consider it punishment for your sins." Her wand burst with red light, and Pucey fell Stunned before he could formulate a doubtlessly misogynistic response. "Merlin, it's good to have some peace and quiet around her."

Blaise laughed, throwing an arm around her colleague's shoulder. "It helps the air quality, for certain. Well done, ladies! Daphne, take some fighters and secure the attic. The rest of us will unshackle the prisoner and make sure all the resistance is cleared. Katrina, signal in the rest of the Army."

"We really won this one, didn't we?" Daphne asked, feeling somewhat light-hearted and giddy. Given the desperate and brutal nature of the war, any victory was one to be savoured, even one against such relatively weak opponents.

The Champion of Slytherin nodded, the exhilaration of the magic flowing from her limbs, leaving her somewhat worn. "Yes, Daphne, we did."

The Army of the Marauders assembled outside of the Shrieking Shack, maintaining a perimeter around the beaten and demoralized Brotherhood as they tended to the wounds of both factions. Harry had been adamant that the enemy wounded received treatment from Marauder field medics or sent up to the Hospital Wing under Madam Pomfrey's care, sensing an opportunity to nip these extremist elements in the bud. Many of the Brotherhood members muttered happily at the quality of their treatment, despite the numerous Marauders ready to wipe out any riots or attempted escapes. The centaur hunter had been freed, word had been dispatched to the castle regarding their success, and Harry now only waited for word from Cho and Luna regarding the Brotherhood force in the Lonely Wood. "Neville's been getting a bit anxious to find out how Luna's doing," Hermione explained, walking alongside Harry and Firenze as they observed the prisoners. "We can hardly blame him, really, we haven't heard from either Cho or Luna in some time."

"It's doubtful that Cho's run into any problems," Harry opined. "She is a Champion after all, and both she and her squad are well-trained. As for Luna and the Ghosts, I'm sure that they're holding up as well. While it's nice of him to think of such things, I can't really let Neville go right now. Until the local Aurors or the teachers get down here, we'll need all the fighters we can spare to keep these guys under guard."

"We've taken their wands, and I doubt they're in much mood for a fight," Hermione expressed. "Come now, Harry, let Neville go with a few of his troops to look for Luna. It'll be of great consulation to him, and they might need more help than you think. Besides, with Ron and Ginny's teams alone, we'd be able to corral these guys."

Harry pondered her words for a moment before reconsidering. "Alright then, tell Neville he can go on ahead, but make sure he sends word back. The more I think about it, the more I feel our communications need to be improved."

As Hermione left to give the order, Firenze bowed before Harry with the greatest respect. "My thanks to you and yours for your heroism tonight, Harry Potter. Outcast though I may be, I shall travel back to the herd with news of the battle. Perhaps your selflessness and sacrifice will help them to understand that humans are not the enemy."

"Let us travel with you, Firenze," Harry asked, rather concerned for the centaurs' safety. He knew his friends could handle themselves against such broken enemies as the Brotherhood, but what Firenze was suggesting was tantamount to suicide. "They could kill you if they see you, and you may need some additional proof if they will believe your story."

Firenze shook his head. "Having a human speak in the middle of the Forest is precisely what will turn them against us. I cannot run from this destiny, Harry Potter. And if I were to die," the centaur shrugged in acceptance, "Needless to say, I would not be the first being to die for speaking the truth. Again, thank you for all you have done for us."

"And you have my thanks as well, Harry Potter," the centaur hunter said, trotting up to the young Champion, in fairly good health despite his ordeal. "Know that I, Ixion, will vouch for you and wizards at the gatherings of my people. May the stars light your path to safety."

"Thank you, Ixion, you too Firenze. If you ever need anything, either me or Dumbledore would be more than able to help."

The two centaur began to move off, accompanied by salutations and farewells from numerous Marauders and the sullen glares of the Brotherhood. "The sign of Jupiter holds high over your head, Harry Potter!" Firenze cried as they departed. "You have a greater destiny yet! Farewell!"

Once Firenze and Ixion had left, Harry turned over to Blaise, the Slytherin girl's lovely face flushed from the night's activities. "Well done tonight, Blaise. The Inflitrators did great. You've opened up a door for us as well; if Firenze and Ixion can convince the rest of the centaur that we're not enemies, we could have another ally to count on."

Blaise blushed. "Thanks, Harry, but don't spend all of your praise on me. It seems that Cho and Luna pulled through after all."

Turning to follow Blaise's outstretched hand, Harry laughed in glee as the Ravenwing and the Ghosts marched towards the Shrieking Shack with a score of prisoners in tow. Cho and Hannah Abbott had hoisted Luna upon their shoulders like a conquering hero, and soon the entire Army was cheering her name in triumph. For the enemy was routed, the centaur had been saved, and Luna Lovegood had proven herself to be amongst the best of them.

The laughter and merriment flowed in virtual rivers from the Room of Requirement, as the Army of the Marauders got down to celebrating their incredible victory. Of the ninety-three members involved in the battle, only a dozen were incapacitated by enemy spellwork, and only three of those required any medical attention or recuperation in the Hospital Wing. They had driven an equal number of the foe into the dirt with little cost to themselves, saved the hostage and paved the way for greater cooperation and dialogue between the Ministry of Magic and the centaur of the Forbidden Forest. All and all, it was a good night. The Room of Requirement was transformed from a militant training area into a large lounge, while food and drink was ordered up from the kitchens with the assistance of a helpful Dobby. The Army had fought, and fought well, so they had definitely earned some time to relax. Drinks were passed around, games of Exploding Snap and Wizarding poker emerged, and the conversation was lively and engaging. No House barriers existed here; Ravenclaws chatted with Gryffindors while Hufflepuffs flirted with Slytherins. They were all warriors, all mages, all worthy of friendship and respect, breaking down the old prejudices and embracing a new order of things.

Nestled in the soft confines of a loveseat and somewhat sheltered from prying eyes, Harry and Cho sat in each other's arms, kissing each other softly. "Happy Valentine's Day, Harry," the beautiful Ravenclaw giggled, scuffing up his messy black hair. "Heck of a way to spend it though. Most guys would take a girl out to a Muggle film or a nice romantic dinner. You, on the other hand, brought me into a warzone." Cho laughed at Harry's horrified look. "I'm just kidding with you, love. I understood the risks, realized the necessity and accepted the dangers, you didn't force me into anything and the enemy couldn't even touch me. Besides, having you around is a Valentine's Day gift in of itself."

"Thanks, Cho," Harry said, kissing her softly and letting his hands caress her perfect hips, feeling the denim material of her jeans against his palm. "You did excellent out there tonight. Without the Ravenwing providing some air support, the Brotherhood might have taken the chance to use some Unforgivables. What about the enemy forces in the Lonely Wood? Did Luna need much in the way of assistance?"

Cho laughed. "Hardly. It was brilliant, Harry! She had the Brotherhood twisting in the wind, hitting them from every angle, dividing their numbers and generally confusing them straight to hell. Then she and a few of her squad placed themselves in-between both enemy groups and fired on both at once. I'm still not entirely sure how she did it, but she got the Brotherhood to start hexing each other, thinking each group were the Ghosts. I came in shortly after that to help mop up, but Luna deserves all the credit for that. You know it's her birthday today, right?"

Mentally, Harry slapped himself. "No, I honestly didn't," he said, feeling quite stupid and boorish at the moment. After all the trials Luna had been through and all the support she had given him, the least he could do was remember her birthday. He made the decision in a flash, kissing Cho once more before getting out of his seat, tapping the side of his goblet for silence. "Attention, everyone, attention!" he declared, embraced by cheers and wolf-whistles from the Marauders. "Alright then, settle down. This isn't about me; it's about us, our victory and what we've done here. I can truly say that you are some of the finest duellists that I've fought alongside. You all did well tonight. We defeated the Brotherhood and rescued the hostage without suffering great losses, and we stopped this reactionary nonsense at the same time. The Brotherhood certainly wasn't the greatest threat facing us, but one fewer enemy is cause for celebration. Remember that when the Death Eaters strike again. Remember that you faced down violent foes before, but stood strong and won. Each and every one of you contributed to this victory, so you should congratulate yourselves."

The Marauders roared in triumph. Seeing the proud smile adorning Cho's lovely visage, Harry continued, his voice gaining strength and power. "Sooner or later, word of our little battle is going to get out to the press and the public. They're going to ask why children have been fighting a war, if this was a battle over partisan ideas, or what gives us the right to play a game left to adults. If they ask you, tell them this: This is our fight we're facing here. This is our world that we're defending. This is our future we're fighting for. For better or worse, when this war is over, we are the ones who have to live with the results. The responsible adults," he said, dripping with disrespect, inciting no few chuckles from the Marauders, "had their chance to set things right and they failed. We have to succeed where they didn't." He raised his mug high. "To peace in our time!"

"To peace!" the Marauders echoed back, toasting to that brighter future.

After the assembled students had drunk, Harry issued one final statement, green eyes meeting those of his comrades. "I said before that everyone helped to make this victory a reality, but one of us went above and beyond the call of duty tonight. Without support, without assistance, she and her squad removed nearly a third of the Brotherhood out of the picture, and defeated the foe with the aid of the most powerful weapon of all; her mind. She is both a true Ravenclaw and a true hero, so I'd like you all to give Luna Lovegood a round of applause. And, given that it's her birthday, we might as well horribly embarrass her in the process."

Cheers and applause exploded out from the various Marauders, and in the middle of it all, Luna turned beet-red, bashful at the amount of attention directed at her. A deafening, off-key chorus of Happy Birthday worthy of the Weasley clan enveloped her hearing, and the slender Ravenclaw girl allowed herself to laugh, tucking a strand of corn-tinted hair behind her ear. Neville sang the loudest and most boisterous of them all, serenading his unorthodox girlfriend in a clear tenor, taking her hand in his own. As the congratulations died down, Harry's voice spoke loud and clear. "Well, what are you stubborn lot waiting for? Enjoy yourselves!" The party burst back up again, and the Champion of Gryffindor noticed with no small measure of satisfaction that Luna was finding herself shaking hands and being congratulated by streams of well-wishers.

Cho came up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and nuzzling his shoulder. "That was very good of you, Harry. Luna's been belittled by too many people; this is certainly a welcome first step in the right direction."

"Great minds think alike, huh?" Harry joked, laughing with her. "So Luna used the old divide-and-conquer routine, right?"

"It was absolutely brilliant, Harry!" Cho emphasised. "Rowena's wand, she definitely earned her leadership position tonight. You should go and congratulate her in person, you know. While I'm sure she liked your ovation, she's probably appreciate a personal thanks as well."

Harry nodded. "You're probably right. I know that I would feel the same way in her shoes."

Blaise approached the two lovers with a disappointed pout. "Aren't you going to give me a standing ovation, Harry?" she asked in a sarcastic, burlesque tone. "Oh, to be a Slytherin in such a noble band! I'll probably have to hang myself out of the shame."

Despite herself, Cho couldn't keep the smile from burst out. "Our apologies, Blaise. True be told, you did an excellent job tonight, and we're quite indebted to you. Nice trick with the wraiths too. It looks like you've finally gotten the energies of Slytherin under control, so good for you!"

The pretty Slytherin retreated into a modest pose. "I just did what I had to do, and all the practice we've been having helped. But the rest of the Inflitrators really did well, Daphne especially. Thanks for giving them that chance to prove themselves, both of you."

"It's no problem," Harry replied.

"Quite true," Cho added, looking at the Champion of Slytherin with a strange look on her face. "Harry, why don't you go and give Luna that congratulations she's been deserving? Blaise and I need to have a quiet chat just between us girls anyway."

While certainly not the most attuned to the thoughts and desires of women, Harry knew precisely what his beautiful lover meant by that. "Sure thing, Cho. I'll see if I can grab us some food on the way back too, you're both probably famished."

"Thanks, Harry," Blaise said, watching him with a small measure of disappointment as he disappeared into the throng of partying Marauders. "Cho, if this is about -"

"It is, actually," the beautiful Ravenclaw replied, taking Blaise by the arm and moving her into a more quiet corner of the room. "Harry told me about that little kiss of yours the moment he returned back from visiting you that night. I should be bloody furious with you," she snapped, quickly mollifying her tone. "But what happened that night justifies as extenuating circumstances, and I know Harry would never betray me in such a fashion. I also know that you had a damn good reason for doing so. Just…please don't do it again. I can only appeal out of our friendship, nothing more."

"Listen, Cho, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings and all, or opened up a rift between you and Harry. I didn't mean for any of those things to happen."

The sensual Ravenclaw smiled warmly in response, shifting a raven-black tress out of her face. "It's very considerate of you to think of that, Blaise, but Harry and I managed to avoid any ill complications regarding your encounter. The fact that he didn't initiate it and that he told me immediately did a lot to soften the blow, though I was a bit cross with him for about a day afterward. I know, that night, you were hurting, and that you needed some comfort to help ease the pain, but I need to know that you won't try something like that again, okay? If I'm to trust you and work alongside you, I need to know it was a one-time thing."

Blaise was silent for a moment before answering, wringing her hands nervously. "Cho…Yes. Yes, it was a one-time thing. I just came out of that Tower shocked and ashamed and despised of who I was, and then your boyfriend was there, helping me to calm down, giving me a shoulder to cry on, telling me that everything was going to be alright. Merlin's beard, he even stayed after I said these really horrible things to him and generally acted like a complete bitch in front of him." The willowy Slytherin looked at her erstwhile rival, the beginnings of tears forming in her blue eyes. "It was honestly the sweetest thing that anyone has ever done for me, and I was tired, and he was so beautiful, and…it happened. There's no excuse for it, but needless to say, I get now why you fell in love with him."

"He wasn't always like that," Cho reminded her, "But he's come a long way since the Tri-Wizard Tournament and all the foolishness resulting. At one point, he could barely talk to girls openly, much less gain an emotional connection with them. That being said, he's capable of realizing his mistakes and working to improve them, something that makes him truly special. Yes, I can forgive you for doing that, and I trust you not to do that again."

Blaise smiled, bowing her head in thanks. "Although, I must say, he certainly made it worth my while," she purred ravishingly, gently teasing her comrade-in-arms. "Are you certain Harry minds sharing?"

"Don't get any funny ideas, Zabini," Cho said, taking it all in good humour. "I've had enough trouble keeping Ginny away from him in the past, I don't want you to add to it!" The two girls laughed, mending the patches and fraying in their friendship. A few minutes later, Harry rejoined them with a basket of snacks under his shoulder, and the three Champions spent the next half-hour talking amongst themselves, joking and gossiping. Blaise was particularly interested in knowing how her friends would deal with the upcoming Gryffindor/Ravenclaw Quidditch match. "It's not going to cause any problems, I wouldn't think," Cho explained, letting her head rest on Harry's shoulder. "Harry might be a bit miffed when he loses the Snitch, but he's a big boy, so he'll get over it."

"I love you beyond measure, Cho, but that Snitch is mine, I'm afraid," Harry replied back, kissing her on the cheek.

Cho huffed at the thought of losing. "And they consider us Ravenclaws ivory-tower dreamers."

"You willing to bet on that, Ms. Chang? A Ravenclaw victory over Gryffindor?"

"Absolutely," Cho replied. "Though I doubt you could pay my price, Harry Potter."

"Somehow, I'm certain I'll win either way," said Harry, nuzzling the curve of the Ravenclaw's neck. "The match is when? At the very end of March?"

Cho nodded. "Yes, then another week of school, followed by the spring break, then our exams. With all of the schoolwork and essays we'll be doing, it won't be a pleasant holiday, I'm afraid."

"I'm sure you'll do great on your NEWTs, Cho," Blaise declared. "You're a brilliant student, and if what Harry's told me is true, you should have no trouble with the tests at all. Defense Against the Dark Arts should be a breeze, and it seems to me that you're pretty good at Transfiguration and Charms too."

"Don't forget Potions," Harry added in his two Knuts. "You've really helped me a lot in that course. Even Snape won't harass you when it's something that important. He might do it to the Gryffindors, but a Ravenclaw? You'll do great."

The beautiful Ravenclaw softened at their comments. "Thank you, both of you, but it's not as simple as that. I'll still need to review all of my notes for the NEWTs and study as much as I can, but my parents aren't going to make it easy for me."

"What do you mean," Harry inquired, fearing the worst.

His fears were soon verified. "My parents expect me to return home for my eighteenth birthday, it's right after the Quidditch match, and they'll want me to stay for several days. Zhang's going to be there, so I'll have to leave my books behind and powder my nose for the perverse toad. When I could be training, studying or going to classes, I'll spend my birthday keeping his paws away from places they shouldn't be, and generally acting like a vapid, airheaded housewife to please him." Cho's shoulders trembled with anger beneath her leather jacket, and the beautiful Ravenclaw looked close to erupting. "Damn them. They couldn't wait just a week for me to be there! A week! Instead, my studies will be disrupted, Professor Flitwick and Dumbledore have to be bothered by this stupidity, and I'll be put behind at a time when I need to be running along at my best. It's almost like they're hoping to sink my academic career in hopes that I won't have any place to escape when Zhang asks for my hand."

Blaise spat out a curse. "That's just so selfish of them. Why on earth would they consider doing that?"

Cho made a derisive noise. "They think that in order to be a good Chinese person, one has to follow tradition blindly, accept everything about the culture without critically considering it. Myself, I think that no one culture or way of life has a monopoly on knowledge, and that taking the best elements from each and discarding the worst is necessary to live happily. Besides, it's the twenty-first century! We shouldn't have to be constrained by old ways of thinking if they don't work. As proud as I am of my cultural heritage, even I can admit when part of it is wrong."

"Perhaps I should come with you, Cho," Harry offered, concerned for this woman, who had become a spouse in all but name. "Maybe we can make them listen, rethink what they're doing."

"No," Cho replied swiftly, touched by his affection for her but unwilling to budge. "No, Harry, this is my fight, and one I cannot pass along to anyone else. I am going to return for my birthday, but I'll not stay for long. Just long enough to shove Zhang's teeth down his bloody throat, and if my parents decide to disown me, I can accept it. Material possessions mean nothing if you have to sacrifice your freedom to enjoy them." She smiled reassuringly, giving Harry a warm hug. "I'll be alright, love. I promise."

Harry nodded his head weakly, rather shaken by the news. It seemed impossible that after all the trials, all the battles, all the tears wept and blood spent, that his relationship with Cho could be broken apart by the pigheadedness of her parents. The thought scared him more than he ever considered possible. He had grown accustomed to the young woman's presence, her beautiful long hair, her concerned and pleasant voice, her intelligent, strong-willed demeanour, and the idea of losing her was…heart-wrenching. Harry could understand her desire to face her problems alone; if the Dursleys were to put him into a similar position, he would certainly want to solve it himself. And he was grateful that Cho would risk disownment for his sake, but it infuriated the Champion that they should have to face this foolishness to begin with. They had enough on their plates to deal with already.

"He makes a single wrong step, Harry and I will deal with him," Blaise said, coming to the defence of her friend. "Don't let pride keep you from getting help if you need it."

"Thanks, Blaise," Cho replied sincerely. "In the meantime though, I'll just have to do what I can with the schoolwork situation. Perhaps the two of you could keep me up to date in Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

Before Harry could answer, a new figure entered into the Room of Requirement, exerting dismay and pride in equal measure. "I'm afraid that this celebration will have to wait for another evening, students," Professor Minerva McGonagall presented, receiving boos and groans in reply. "Headmaster Dumbledore is insistent that this party does not run through the night, and that you all get some rest. And are those cards I see in your hand, Mr. Longbottom?"

"No, marm," Neville said meekly, shoving the pack of cards into his jean pocket, along with the winnings from his poker game.

"Good to hear," the stern Transfiguration Professor remarked, turning her attention to Harry and the other Champions. "Mr. Potter? The Headmaster would like a word with you and your two companions. Please, follow me."

Looking from Cho to Blaise and back again, Harry complied, taking the time to congratulate or offer salutations to many of the Marauders as they left. Telling Ron and Hermione that he'd be returning to Gryffindor Tower shortly, the Champion of Gryffindor asked as to the nature of Dumbledore's request. "I assume that Dumbledore wants to learn what happened out there tonight."

"That is most certainly part of it," McGonagall answered, "but the Headmaster is very proud of your work tonight, Mr. Potter, as am I. To think that open war might have broken out in the halls of the school, if it were not for your group's efforts. I must talk to Professor Snape and see what he can do about preventing such an uprising from occurring again."

The four reached Dumbledore's study, an exclamation of "Lemon Drops" opening the door to his inner sanctum. "And what else did Dumbledore want us for?" Harry inquired, taking Cho's hand as they ascended up the steep staircase. "Couldn't he wait for the morning?"

"He certainly could, Mr. Potter," said Amelia Lauren Bones, Minister of Magic, standing next to Dumbledore's desk, her monocled right eye staring intently at the young man. "Personally, I had hoped to talk with you as soon as possible, while certain details are fresh in your memory." The new Minister gave a ghost's shadow of a smile. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Potter, and under reasonably positive circumstances. Can you still cast that corporeal Patronus of yours?"

"It's like riding a broom, ma'am," Harry answered, moving to shake her hand. Nervousness had made him tense, and he walked forward on frozen joints like that monster from those old Muggle films, the one created by that mad scientist with the messiah complex. "You can never really forget, and since I've taught some of the other students how to do it, I'm certain it'll stick with me."

The Minister gave a dry laugh. "I'm glad to hear it. Anyone can learn how to do something, but to teach others? It shows you have true talent."

Harry blushed, surprised yet pleased that Bones remembered him for more than just being 'The Boy Who Lived.' "Thank you, ma'am."

"And you must be Cho Chang," Bones said, shaking Cho's hand, taking note of her strong, callused grip. "Would you be of any relation to one Mr. Han Chang?"

The beautiful intellectual looked rather stunned by the question. "Yes, he's my father, actually. Do you know him?"

Bones nodded. "I had the pleasure of dining with him this past November. I've always found it useful to keep an ear to the ground, and get away from the halls of the Ministry from time to time; it helps me to learn what's really going on. A bit of a cold fish, if I may say so, but a decent fellow all-round. Rumour has it that you're applying for an internship at St. Mungo's upon graduation?"

"Either there or at the College of Sages in Iceland," Cho explained. "I've always felt the desire to give back to the community, becoming a Healer would be a good way to do so."

"I'm certain that you shall do well," Bones commented, moving on to the final Champion. "Miss Zabini, is it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Blaise answered politely, anticipating her next question. "My mother is Esmeralda Zabini, she entered Slytherin House about twenty-five years ago. Did you know her?"

The Minister shook her head, the lines on her face drawing taut. "I'm afraid not, Ms. Zabini, I had left Hogwarts before that. Regardless, I doubt you're a woman who relies upon the stature of others to guide your destiny. It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm certain you know Arthur Weasley, my new Undersecretary," she said, gesturing towards the balding wizard, looking as pleased as punch to see Harry again. "And my personal assistant, Penelope Clearwater, she's been a great help to me lately. She organized the mass mailing of the evidence against Fudge; Merlin knows where I'd be without her."

"Hello, Cho," Penelope greeted, giving the Champion of Ravenclaw a tight hug. Harry only knew the girl as Percy's girlfriend, but it appeared that she and Cho had some past history together. He had to admit she looked rather fetching in her black, professional business robes, long black hair done up in a small bun, and the young Gryffindor vaguely wondered if Percy appreciated the reserved girl to the extent she deserved. "It's lovely to see you again. How are the NEWTs coming along?"

"Don't ask," Cho replied, erupting in a fit of giggles.

Ushering Bones to a well-stuffed chair, Dumbledore looked over the group with that signature twinkle in his eye. "Well then, now that the introductions are complete, perhaps we should get onto the order of business. The Brotherhood of Merlin has been confined, and I've sent their leaders over to the Aurors for punishment. Hogwarts owes you and the Army of the Marauders a great debt, Harry. While it pains me to see students fighting amongst one another in such a fashion, your forces showed great restraint in the Brotherhood's apprehension."

"McGonagall was telling me about the statistics from this evening's labours," Bones stated, adding an extra lump of sugar into her tea. "Only a dozen of your fighters incapacitated compared to the entire hundred of the enemy? And only three of those injuries needing medical attention? Shows the quality of your troops, and your leadership, Mr. Potter, if such numbers are to be believed."

Harry found himself fidgeting in his seat, taking on an air of modest. "A general is only as good as the troops he leads, and the officers who command them, Madam Minister. I just did what I could to stop them."

"And the staff shall be doubly vigilant to ensure that nothing like the Brotherhood can form again." Dumbledore added, turning towards Blaise. "It was Ms. Zabini that first informed us of the danger posed by this group, and Mr. Potter and Ms. Chang who developed the winning strategy. Mr. Potter, in particular, was insistent that the Army of the Marauders strike any blows."

"Why was that, Harry?" Arthur asked, somewhat concerned that his children might have been endangered.

Harry shrugged. "It didn't make sense for the Aurors to spend their time dealing with kids," he said empathically, hoping that the elder Weasley would not be disappointed in him. "It would have been a media nightmare and alone fuelled doubts in the Minister's leadership. Besides, I wanted to show the Army that they were capable of defending themselves against Dark intrusions. Having them test themselves against the Brotherhood was a great way to boost their spirits, give them confidence."

"A sound strategy, Mr. Potter," interjected Bones, looking up at him slyly from her teacup. From there, the conversation turned to the reaction of the centaur. Dumbledore was confident that the tribe in the Forbidden Forest would be more amiable to joining forces against Voldemort, but Bones was more pessimistic. "It's not that I don't want them on our side, Dumbledore, but honestly, why should they join us? The actions of the Army of the Marauders might start paving the way, but we're talking about centuries of bigotry and mistrust here. The Ministry has bullied them around for decades at the very least. If I were them, I'd be willing to see all humans as enemies, Dark or otherwise." Talk shifted to other areas of policy, the status of the war, and the Champions contributed where they felt it was necessary. All the while, Penelope acted as stenographer, dutifully taking down notes for the Ministry's official records. Harry felt strangely at ease with the new Minister, and honestly believed he could discuss any subject with her, or put forth any opinion without fear of blacklisting or slander. She was a democrat and a patriot, driven in her focus and possessing an equal temper of compromise and resolve. Bones was a serious woman and a serious leader, and Harry felt a swell of confidence at his chest, that this was a leader worth fighting beside.

"Have you made progress making any sort of military alliance with the other magical governments?" Cho questioned, stretching to ease a lingering ache in her neck. "I've heard that the Ministry has been in talks with the Mesopotamian Circle in having them bring troops to England. Any success on that front?"

Bones suddenly looked exhausted, leeched of life. "In a way, Ms. Chang. Truth be told, this hasn't been such a good night for the Ministry, and given that I'm going to be asking you some pretty stern questions later on, I might as well give you the full story. This evening, while you were facing off against the Brotherhood, the Death Eaters attempted to covertly overthrow the Ministry. They were using a variety of agents and Imperius-controlled subjects, and did a fair amount of damage before we brought them down. Alan Thicknesse came at me with a penknife during the process; so needless to say, it's been a long evening."

Harry froze in his chair, praying that he hadn't heard her correctly. A coup attempt at the Ministry? While he had long suspected that Voldemort had his spies and saboteurs within the magical government, the idea that the Dark Lord could take it over with the snap of a finger was a horrifying one. Momentarily, Harry thought of the evils Voldemort could commit should he gain such a foothold; kangaroo courts, roaming death squads hunting down Muggleborns, a policy of oppression and genocide for all but a favoured few. "What happened?" he asked, terrified by the possibilities.

"Three days ago, the Spirit Walkers assigned to us discovered that several of the Ministry employees were being mind controlled via Imperius Curse by one of Voldemort's agents. Under interrogation, we learned that the agent in question had been directing their movements for months, right under Fudge's nose. The Aurors took on the case, and we began to uncover up to seven dedicated Death Eaters working undercover in the Ministry, controlling a few dozen people overall."

"You-Know-Who panicked," Arthur Weasley explained to the assembled group. "Seeing his fifth column being dismantled right before their eyes, either he or one of his subordinates gave the order to attack. The remaining spies launched their attack, but they were too few to bring down the Ministry by that point. Still, it's been a rough evening. About nine people are dead, not counting the Death Eaters involved, and we've been working overtime with the Spirit Walkers making sure our people are completely loyal."

"Minister ibn-Sistani was in talks with me this very evening, so he got caught up in the mess a bit. He's a bit shaken, but he'll be fine, and if nothing else, the attempted coup demonstrated the threat to him. While he said he'd have to contact the rest of his government, it appears that we might count upon some military support arriving soon from the Circle."

Taking a moment to look up from her note-taking, Penelope explained. "Minister ibn-Sistani has suggested that the Mesopotamian Circle could send in the Saladin Legion to aid us. A hundred battle-ready witches and wizards would certainly help to take the pressure off, and enable us to deploy more troops in offensive operations."

"A full hundred!" Blaise exclaimed.

"Hopefully more, if we can work out similar arrangements with other magical governments. But the Mesopotamian forces are a good start, they're highly-trained and experienced, so they'll be of great help to us," Bones declared. "It will take time to repair the damages caused by the Death Eater coup attempt, but it's a far better situation than what would have happened if they were successful."

Penelope continued to brief the group. "According to the best intelligence from the Unspeakables, the infiltration of the Ministry was organized by a man we only know as Asmodeus. From what we can tell, Asmodeus is the right-hand man of You-Know-Who, acting as the operational overseer of Voldemort's campaign. The Dark Lord outlines an overall strategy, Asmodeus makes it happen. Stormfury fought him at the Riddle Manor, where he declared that he was the mastermind behind the December offensive. He's a formidable duellist and a ruthless tactician, perhaps on par with or greater than Bellatrix Lestrange herself."

"Asmodeus," Cho mused, feeling something nagging at her brain. "Why didn't this Asmodeus launch a coup attempt while Fudge was in power? Certainly then, resistance would have been minimal, he could have taken over the entire Ministry without breaking a sweat."

Bones snorted angrily at the mention of her predecessor. "Fudge was an incompetent fool, and made no real effort to take the fight to the Death Eaters. Voldemort had nothing to gain from taking down his administration when so many other targets presented much more of a threat. Now that the Ministry is regaining the initiative, he feels it necessary to shift focus against us."

"You have to understand," Mr. Weasley said with deathly seriousness, "that You-Know-Who-"

"Say his name, Arthur," Bones chided him.

"Sorry, Voldemort then- is very cunning. He knows that if a strong coalition is created to stand against him, he will be defeated. That's why he's picking his battles and trying to turn us against each other, along with recruiting all of these allies. If enough wizards stand up to him, he can't win."

Harry posed the question on everyone's mind. "So, are we winning or losing, then?"

An uncomfortable silence followed, broken by a gentle cough from Minister Bones. "It's hard to tell at this point, actually. While the Shadow Hunters and our new offensive strategy have certainly been paying dividends, the tempo of the raids is still fairly high, especially as Voldemort's werewolf and vampire allies step in. We're gaining troops, but so are the Death Eaters. Move, countermove, and so forth. The Ministry is looking for ways to help break this deadlock, and that's part of the reason why I've asked to speak with you tonight. What can you tell me about the energies of the Founders?"

The three Champions looked at each other warily, while Dumbledore remained motionless, dispassionate to the Minister's request. After a moment, Bones sighed, massaging her growing headache. "I understand that you have no love for the Ministry, and given the way you've been treated by those such as Fudge and Umbridge, it's a position I can completely understand. However, I need you to trust me when I say I have no ulterior motives in wanting to learn of your powers. I'll swear an Unbreakable Vow if it will assuage your fears."

Cho gasped at the proposal, while Harry and Blaise simply appeared shocked. They had studied the Unbreakable Vow in Charms; it was a powerful binding spell that ensured that those participating would be forced to obey the terms of an agreement upon pain of death. An archaic and dangerous spell, it was rarely used today, usually for blood-oaths and pledges of loyalty. Bones was essentially offering herself up as collateral in a promise of good faith, and Harry could only wonder how important she considered the Champions if she was willing to make such a bargain. "I'm certain that won't be necessary, Minister," Cho answered, apparently coming to the same conclusion. "You have been quite honest with us this evening. While I can't speak for Harry and Blaise, I'd be more than happy to share my experiences regarding the magic with you."

"Oh, in for a penny, in for a pound," Blaise said, leaning back in her chair.

Harry volunteered as well. "So then, what would you like to know?" This meeting had demonstrated that Bones was far more effective and honest than Fudge ever was, dedicated to the people and able to formulate policy of actual substance. There was no frippery or pizzazz surrounding the new Minister, she seemed relatively uninspiring and cold at a distance, but she appeared to be a credible leader. The Ministry had been salt in Harry's wounds for years, yet he felt himself trusting her with such important information all the same.

So, for the next fifteen minutes, the Champions related their experiences with the magic to the elderly bureaucrat, giving her as complete a picture as possible regarding the energies of the Founders. From time to time, Bones, Weasley or Clearwater interjected to ask a question; When did they learn of the magic? How did it spark? What have been the limitations? Has it proven equally effective against all targets, or have there been discrepancies? What about the visions Miss Chang has seen? The Minister was polite but thorough in her questioning, making certain to cover all the pertinent details. When they were finished, Bones adjusted her monocle sagely. "The Four Founders of Hogwarts had children. If I hadn't heard the story from your mouths, I doubt I would have believed it. The history of the Founders has been constantly debated, examined and twisted to fit whatever political ideology got its hands on it. Needless to say, it's good to have an authoritative source on the matter." Her expression darkened. "Now, what do you intend on doing with it? And I don't mean to ask you if you intend to opposing the Ministry, I'm a critical thinker, not a paranoid."

"For the most part, we'll stay in Hogwarts, keep training, keep preparing," Harry said, receiving nods from his compatriots. "If you or the Aurors need our assistance for a specific mission, we'll do what we can to help. But we are students, not professional soldiers, and we're certainly not under the beck and call of the Ministry either."

"We have lives to live," Cho exclaimed, "and while we recognize that Voldemort needs to be defeated, we cannot leave the school unprotected. Should the war still wage after I graduate, I would be more than happy to assist the Aurors full-time, but I will not interrupt my education and vigil over Hogwarts at the moment. In times of great emergency, yes, but not while I'm so close to achieving my dreams here."

Blaise added in her two Knuts. "Harry and Cho are right; we have enough on our plates without becoming full-fledged Aurors. As well, I'm hoping that with Malfoy gone and the Brotherhood crushed, I can make some progress removing Voldemort's influence from Slytherin House. Most of them are just kids, and I'm not going to have some hat damn them into a lifetime of service to the Death Eaters."

"Understandable," the Minister said. "I'm a little uncertain about using children to fight wars myself, but it's good to know that we can count on you if things get rough out there." She glanced at Penelope, who was pointing at a rough, leonine sketch. "Duty calls, I'm afraid. I should return to the Ministry to see how the repairs are going, and old Rufus Scrimgeour probably screaming from anyone with a black pair of trousers to be arrested on suspicion of being Death Eaters. Thank you for taking the time to see me, Mister Potter, Miss Chang, Miss Zabini, Dumbledore. I'll leave you to your business then, and thank you."

The group rose to leave, shaking hands with the Ministry personnel on the way out. "It's been a wonder to see you again, Cho," Penelope whispered, embracing the younger girl in a sisterly hug. "We should have lunch sometime, for we have lots to catch up on."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Penny," Cho replied. "Mr. Weasley! I'm Cho Chang. It's a pleasure to finally meet you…"

"Mr. Potter!" Bones exclaimed as Harry made his way out. "Might I have a word with you in private?" She gave Dumbledore an apologetic look. "My apologies for forcing you out of your own study, Headmaster."

"No apologies are needed, Madam," Dumbledore said with raised hands, giving his benediction to Harry.

After the various bureaucrats, students and the Headmaster had filtered out; Bones turned her attentions towards Harry. "Breaking school rules, defying established authority, consorting with those considered socially unacceptable…Quite the liberal specimen, aren't you, Mr. Potter?"

"I just do what I feel is right and needed," Harry replied, shifting uncomfortably. What had Minister Bones deemed so important that she was forced to consult him privately? "Is there some problem with our discussion of the Founders? Do you need something cleared up?"

"Not as such," Bone answered. "I owe you an apology, on behalf of the entire Ministry of Magic. It's doubtlessly too little, too late in your mind, but I feel the need to say it anyway. Fudge was wrong to blacklist you so last year, and the Ministry was wrong for letting it continue. And yes, I include myself on the tally; I had the power to turn against Fudge and ready our people for war, but I chose not to."

Harry was fairly shocked by this statement. "So why didn't you?"

"Because I swore an oath to defend my country and its people, Mr. Potter. As much as I tried to act as a dissenting voice in the Wizengamot, Fudge was elected fairly, and until I could find the evidence needed to oust him, I was forced to obey his wishes. It's illegal to finance revolutionaries and terrorists, Mr. Potter, but it's hardly a crime to be an idiot. Otherwise, Azkaban would be overflowing. I cannot help but feel responsible for your ordeal at Umbridge's hands, and the violence that has spread across the country even now." Bones shook her head in self-depreciation. "My sense of duty overthrew my common sense, Mr. Potter, a common hazard of politics. Though I dare say that you and I share something; we have had greatness thrust upon us, and must now perform to the best of our abilities. While I cannot make up for the scar you still bear on your hand, I can offer you this small compensation." Producing a sealed manila envelope from the folds of her cloak, Bones handed it to Harry.

His eyes lighting up with barely contained joy, Harry gazed at the thick Ministry seal adorning the letter before breaking it upon, reading the contents within. Certificate of Pardon: Sirius Regulus Black. Hastily scanning over the pages, Harry felt the tears well up, even after all this time. "He's been pardoned?"

"Posthumously, but it is a pardon nonetheless," Bones stated. "It should have happened years ago. He never should have been thrown in prison at all. It's a poor compensation for your loss, Mr. Potter, but I'm the Minister of Magic, not Merlin. Would that I could raise Black from the dead or travel back in time to save him, but I cannot. I can only offer my condolences for your loss and give you my word that I shall not happen again. This pardon necessary wipes the charge from the books, and the Prophet shall be doing a small piece on it to inform the public of the mistrial. If that's a small price to pay for our sins, then I will gratefully accept it."

Wiping the moisture from his cheeks, Harry took a seat beside the Minister. "Honestly, thank you," the Champion of Gryffindor said, taking the time to look over the document, making sure everything was in order. "You're right, it's not going to bring him back, but at least Sirius can rest knowing that his name has been cleared. Again, thank you."

"It's the least I can do for one who has done so much. And I don't mean your first defeat of the Dark Lord specifically, but your more recent actions in Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest. You no longer have to base your appeal on your mother's sacrifice, but instead your own. We'll need all the heroes we can get aiding us, whether it's the other Champions and yourself, the Aurors, or Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix."

Harry froze. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, ma'am."

"Don't be stupid, boy," Bones' voice took on a more acidic tone. "I know Albus Dumbledore well enough to know that he wouldn't just idly stand by and watch as Voldemort ravaged this country. He actually approached me with an offer of recruitment several months ago, but I declined. I'm certain he's asked you to join the Order already, or has his sense of morals gotten in the way? Just remember, Mr. Potter, you may consider me a friend in all your future endeavours, including your enrolment in the Auror Academy. We've spent too much time squabbling amongst ourselves when the real enemy lay beyond our sight, and I intend on seeing Voldemort destroyed once and for all." She shook Harry's hand once more. "Let this evening begin a new era of cooperation and assistance between us."

The Champion took her outstretched hand gratefully. "I look forward to it, Madam." He paused for a moment, a question coming to mind. "How much are you going to share the information on the energies of the Founders?"

Bones smiled. "I'm certainly not going to post it in the Prophet, if that's what you're asking. And given that we barely survived an uprising tonight, I think it would be best to keep it only amongst my inner Cabinet, and even then, only when the need arises. You've certainly had enough obsessive analysis of your personal life, Mr. Potter, and I'll not contribute to it. Pleasure meeting you again, Mr. Potter. Carry on."

"So, what did Madam Bones want to talk about?" the lovely Cho Chang asked as she and Harry journeyed to the comforts of Ravenclaw Tower, hand in hand. With the party having broken up, and Blaise returning to the Slytherin dormitories, the two lovers had little to do but walk and chat with one another. All the same, it was a fulfilling experience, and both enjoyed the quiet moments, away from the war or the nagging gossip of Hogwarts social life.

"Just wanted to apologize for all the nonsense the Ministry put me through, as well as give me this," Harry replied, handing her the letter. "It's a Certificate of Pardon, wipes Sirius' conviction from the records."

Cho gasped, throwing her arms around him. "Harry, this is wonderful!" Kissing him on the cheek, the girl directed Harry's eyes to meet her own, stroking his face comfortingly. "He loved you to the very end, you understand that, right? From what you've described of him to me, I fail to reach any other conclusion."

"I know," Harry said, resting for a moment, his back to the corridor wall. "I just miss him so much, even after all this time. He should be here to live out the rest of his life in freedom, meet you, maybe chat with Remus about the good old days…" The young man's eulogizing stalled with a choked sob, and Harry let himself weep for his fallen godfather. "I'm sorry for blubbering on this like you, Cho. I-"

The brilliant Ravenclaw laughed, silencing him with a kiss. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, love. Grief is a natural emotion, including at times like this. Sirius seemed like a great man."

"He was," Harry stated flatly, holding the girl tightly for support. "Thanks again for everything, Cho."

"It's no problem," she answered, linking arms with the Champion of Gryffindor. "I had a nice little chat with Arthur while you were talking with Bones, and he seems like a nice fellow. He just wanted to thank me for helping to save Ron in the Forbidden Forest, and wondered why you didn't introduce me to the Weasleys sooner."

"They like you, huh?"

Cho blushed. "He even invited me to Bill and Fleur's wedding during the summer, and he mentioned that Mrs. Weasley might be sending me a jumper in the mail." She shrugged coyly, tucking a lock of raven-black hair behind her ear, a mannerism that Harry found very attractive. "I was worried that they'd react like Ginny and accuse me of vamping you, but I guess I misjudged them. A common flaw of mine. So, do you have any class in the morning?"

"Double Transfiguration," Harry explained. "Then Quidditch practice during my free period, meaning I have to get to bed early tonight. I'll see you to Ravenclaw Tower before I go though."

"Thank you, Harry. I'm sorry I threw all of that Zhang stuff onto your plate tonight, but I had only just gotten the letter, and I wanted to be open with you about it…"

Placing a finger over her full pink lips, Harry shushed the young woman. "Everybody needs to let these things out, Cho, and I don't hold that against you. When we got back together, I promised that I would always try to help you, no matter what. I'm just doing my duty by listening about it."

The beautiful Chinese girl smiled, kissing him softly in front of Ravenclaw Tower, shuddering in pleasure as his hands brushed against the curve of her breast. "Good to hear. Anyways, I'd best get some rest. Good night, sweet Harry," she whispered kissing him once more before turning to the portrait hole. The young sorceress felt reassured now, that no matter what happened, the love that she and Harry had forged remained unbreakable. "I love you."

"I love you too," Harry said huskily, embracing her one final time before she stepped into the Tower. Worn down from the night's events, Harry left his attention rest on the girl's back before heading back to Gryffindor Tower, enveloped and nurtured by Cho's love all the while. Resolving to put aside any further consideration of his shadowy rival in Zhang, the Champion of Gryffindor walked through the halls with a spring in his step. The battle had been won, his commitment to the woman of his dreams stronger than ever, and the black mark on his godfather's name erased from the passage of history. Today had turned out to be a very good day.

"For one who makes a living killing such beasts, Macnair, you certainly possess an aptitude for raising them," came the deadly, sibilant hiss of Voldemort as he stared upon his latest prize. The golden, creamy fur of the gryphons stood out in contrast to the grime-covered and dank confines of Hell Pit, though soot and dust from the excavation had already begun to tarnish their coats. Dark blood encrusted several flesh wounds, but otherwise they were unharmed. Rattling their cages ferociously, the beasts attempted to tear away at the powerful chains affixing their arms and legs with their curved beaks, but the goblin-forged steel held firm. "Yes, these two will make an excellent addition to my menagerie. Are they a breeding pair?"

Macnair lowered his head in affirmation. "As you instructed, my Lord, though it was difficult to recover such specimens. When the new Eden is built, every magical species we can collect will be invaluable. Such creatures are simply too magnificent to perish in the purging fires."

A second shadow to his master, Asmodeus cocked his head, staring firmly at one of the snarling creatures. "What of plant life, magical and non-magical? Have we acquired enough samples to have a successful regrowth?"

"Of course. The slaves are tending to them as we speak. Numerous forms of vegetation have been collected, and still more varieties are gathered daily. We will have more than enough."

"And all will be needed when the Grand Crusade reaches its fruition, my servant," Voldemort stated, his lipless mouth turning up into something vaguely reminiscent of a smile, or as far as the inhuman sorcerer could manage. "You have done well, Macnair. When you arrived faithfully at my rebirth, I informed you that your skills would be put to hunting more dangerous game than this. Lord Voldemort has not forgotten those words, and your services here have earned you that privilege many times over. When the time is right, you will have the opportunity to hunt the most dangerous prey conceived, as per my plans. You are dismissed."

As Macnair turned back to his duties, Voldemort focused his attention on his chief lieutenant. "Make report to me, my faithful servant. How goes the war?"

"Our attempts at infiltrating the Ministry have unfortunately collapsed, my Lord. Our agents inside the government and our Imperius-cursed puppets were uncovered by the Aurors and those damned Spirit Walkers," Asmodeus said, shaking with rage. Voldemort had groomed and moulded the young man into a reflection of his own horror, his own image, thus the Dark Lord's all-consuming hatred for failure burned deep inside the First Death Eater. "I was forced to activate to activate the remaining cells, and while they did damage and caused confusion inside the Ministry buildings, they were unfortunately defeated. It is unlikely that we will get a second attempt at such a coup."

"An unfortunate setback, my servant, but one I shall survive. I had hoped to overthrow the Ministry and usurp its own resources to aid the Grand Crusade, however, the powers I have gathered here make such subversion unnecessary. What of my legions, Asmodeus? Where do we stand?"

The First Death Eater listed the developments as the two climbed the staircase leading to Voldemort's inner sanctum. "Isolde has brought the assembled vampire clans of Europe under her wing, and her followers continue to draw and press more into her service. The leaders of those clans that defied here have been slain; a few have fled for the New World and Asia. The rest now serve her. Ulric's revolutionary campaign has born fruit, and his ranks swell by a few hundred now from across the world. Most magical governments despise lycanthropes, so he's had no shortage of recruits."

"A good start," Voldemort muttered. The Dark Lord hated and distrusted werewolves, seeing them as a corruption of healthy magical stock, a cancer not unlike the Mudbloods. Still, they were proving to be useful tools, and every fighter he could muster would be needed for the final assault. "What of my Death Eaters? How have the recruitment campaigns abroad gone?"

"Successfully, my Lord. The lands of America and the Far East have garnered a healthy stock of purebloods willing to fight and die for the Grand Crusade. The force I sent to assault the Russian wizarding prison called the White Room managed to break out many prisoners and press them into your service. As it stands, we have gained over eighty new recruits through these efforts, most of decent, if not spectacular, magical ability. We have forced Gregorovitch to construct wands night and day for these newcomers, so they are armed and prepared."

Voldemort nodded. The Bulgarian wandmaker had been kidnapped in the early days of the war and forced to construct new or replacement wands for the Death Eaters, enabling them to maintain the tempo of their raids for longer. Wands often broke on the battlefield, and without Gregorovitch to help replace them, the Grand Crusade would have stalled long ago. "And what of the final Horcruxes? Have they been found yet?"

"Unfortunately not," Asmodeus replied, shaking his head. "Our agents have scoured Hogwarts for the remainder, but they remain elusive."

The Dark Lord snarled angrily. When he had constructed the Horcruxes back in his younger days, he had never expected that their creation might prove problematic in the future. Through the act of murder and Dark magic, he had managed to split his soul into pieces and secure them away so that he might never be completely destroyed. However, once he made his deal with the forces of Chaos, he was quick to see the flaws in those actions. The final, grand spell that would ensure his power and immortality until the end of time required that the caster had a completed soul, or at least a lone surviving fragment. Without it, the consequences would be disastrous at worst, ineffective at best, so the malicious wizard was hastily recovering and reabsorbing the Horcruxes wherever he found them.

Inwardly, Voldemort sneered, remembering his most recent acquisition; the diadem of Ravenclaw. Supposedly, the artefact had granted the Founder her incredible intelligence; it was a tale that few knew but most took for granted. It was all a lie; Ravenclaw had needed no such crutches in her pursuit for magical wisdom, relying upon only her innate capacity for knowledge and intellectual creativity. It was emblematic of the corruption and weakness that plagued the Wizarding World that the accomplishments of such a brilliant, strong-minded witch would be written off as the fancy of a magical artefact. Voldemort had taken great pleasure in devouring the soul fragment within the diadem before crushing it, erasing the stain from existence.

Just as the Dark Lord reached the door to his chambers, a wave of blinding pain struck him, sending him to his knees. His muscles began to spasm, and Voldemort cursed the weakness of his reconstructed body. "Are you well, my Lord?" Asmodeus asked, reaching to assist his master.

"Shut up," Voldemort hissed angrily, forcing his subordinate's hands away. "The flaw eats away at me, even now. The Chaos Stones must be found and the remaining Horcruxes located, and soon, my servant. Push forward the diggings and spare no effort or resource. The Stones must be found!"

The First Death Eater past his master, eyes widening. "Perhaps, my Lord, you need wait not a moment longer."

For nearly nine months, the forces of Voldemort had toiled at the diggings, carving through millennia worth of rock and geologic strata, expanding far beyond what the original Muggle miners had excavated. The Muggles, however, were not driven by the whips of a dark sorcerer, and their machines could not match the strength and fury of Voldemort's giant allies. At the front edge of the diggings, the rock began to crumble away before the startled eyes of the Death Eaters and the work crews, releasing monstrous plumes of dust. Tremors rumbled in the earth, and the diggers began to back away nervously, while even the ensnared Muggle slaves started to flee. The shocks reverberated throughout Hell Pit, sending the harpies screeching and cawing as they abandoned their nests, and the Death Eaters shuffled nervously.

A larger tremor rocked the cavern and a rain of stalactites began to descend on the Dark Lord's army, crushing Death Eaters and minions beneath the rock and smashing through the numerous structures they had erected. Voldemort's tower shook, sending magical artefacts to the ground, shattering them into a thousand pieces. Small chasms gaped wide and swallowed Death Eaters whole, while the largest stalactites impaled giants and sent them into furious death-spasms, causing yet more damage. It was chaos, with the dark wizards' spells providing little protection against the quakes, with dozens of assembled wizards and magical beasts dying in instants. The diggings collapsed completely and buried the workers alive, showering down upon them in a rain of stone and wood. Screams of pain echoing from every angle, and the taste of death permeated the stale air.

His army wounded and battered, many of his allies dead and his fortifications in ruins, Voldemort laughed. It was a mad, vicious sound, really, a dry, skeleton cackle that left an unpleasant cloud over the mind and froze the blood in the veins. Uncaring of the damage that surrounded him, the Dark Lord raised his arms towards the diggings, howling with twisted glee at the prize revealed during the tremors. Each over twenty feet tall, the mighty granite obelisks sat in a concentric circle and radiated power, the blood-red Mark of Chaos chiselled and painted on the face. The Chaos Stones, buried and hidden for over fifteen centuries, had at last been found, and the Dark Lord's plans were moving to their dreadful completion as a result. "Perfect. Perfect!" Voldemort crowed, turning back to his second-in-command. "Asmodeus, set the work crews to clearing up this rubble, and have them move the Stones into the centre of Hell Pit. Take as many men as you need to in order to see this done. I want this place to be ready for Kharaidon's ascension as soon as possible. I will study the dark texts needed, but you must ensure that this is done!"

Giving Asmodeus his leave, Voldemort felt certain now that his final goal was now in reach. The serpent Nagini slithered by his foot, and the Dark Lord eyed his companion, coveting the prize within. "Dear, faithful Nagini. Thank you for all your long years of service at my side, my pet. Unfortunately, your usefulness has ended, but you will live on in memory, content to know that you helped Lord Voldemort gain true immortality!" Dark magic exploded from his wand, and the creature once known as Thomas Marvolo Riddle smiled. Today had turned out to be a very good day.

Next Chapter: Narcissa sits down with her son, and the forces of darkness muster…

A/N: And another chapter done. I've become a bit concerned that the chapters are becoming a bit too long, so I'd definitely like your input on this, as always. The rest of the story is mostly plotted out by now, but I'm willing to shorten each update a bit if I can reasonably do so. As always, your comments, reviews and constructive criticism are the milk that gives me life. I'll also be doing my best to post the next update as soon as time permits.