Dawn's Shadow

S

There is a point when prayers fall to the way-side, when all hopes of mercy and leniency are thrown aside. When one falls into such a primal state of feeling that little of what they are in that particular moment can be called human. There is in fact very little to distinguish one from an animal seconds before the slaughter.

There are instincts, deep and rooted in every mind that call for one thing above all else. The one thing many that have knelt before a man made dark by birth and deeds have pressed their hearts near to.

Survival.

And still that feeling of danger did not lesson as the guttural screams continued, made mad and wild having expelled every trace of humanity.

His Servants strained to turn away knowing they could not move. Lined near his throne were his faithful Inner Circle; their porcelain masks making them nothing but faceless ghosts and all the more menacing for the fact. And standing before him were his Generals and their subordinates. The leaders of the many cells that made the whole of his army. It wasn't often he Called so many at one time, not since his rebirth had they seen such a gathering. But it wasn't often that he felt his army needed a reminder of just how cruel Lord Voldemort could be.

And finally the mad screams died into senseless whimpering. Those that watched had no pity, for those that lived learned that foolishness had only one reward.

"This Strike was planned months in advance, researched and outlined till even the simplest fool knew their part…and yet, still there are those among you who failed even then…" The powerful man hissed. "Still…I do not forget those who serve faithfully. A new world is coming, its birthing pains lashing as it rises from the misguided ruin that shadows us even now. But not for long…The Ministry has fallen! Scattered they have fled, now is the time to move against our last obstacles and there is but one man who holds the banner against us now…Albus Dumbledore's time has ended."

And those who knelt before him were swept in the tide. The Ministry had fallen, burnt as a simultaneous strike against all those who opposed their Lord swept Great Britain. And though while it was true a strange magic had shielded many homes, the Aurors that had moved to confront the Dark Strike suffered a crippling blow.

The time had finally come.

Voldemort's army would finally face Albus Dumbledore.

S

"It's no wonder he hasn't woken up," The matronly woman clucked in sympathetic. "The boy is still suffering from magical exhaustion. I imagine he had been pushed even beyond his limit the night you found him. Whatever he was doing must have been great indeed, as it is there have been precious few that have exceeded the boy's magical reservoir."

"And what about his other injuries?"

"Various scraps and cuts, nothing too worrisome. It's his hand that mostly concerns me. What ever he was doing left a magical burn, it'll trouble him till it heals naturally—not something I can help with."

"But other than that, he's fine?"

"Yes." The woman finally sighed, "There really was no need to worry so much Mr. Lupin."

"Still…it's Harry…" Remus explained, not knowing how to explain duty and responsibility and guilt that bound him to a time gone.

"I understand; if you even knew half the scraps I had to heal on this boy…It was a wonder where he found the trouble he dragged into my infirmary." Madam Pomfrey finally said, quietly gathering her Nurse's kit. "Now, I understand there are a couple more patients of mine running about here? I didn't heal the lot of you to see you ruin my hard-work by working before any of you are quite ready."

"But I feel well enough." Remus protested sheepishly, an automatic smile reminding the older woman of a younger boy struggling out of bed after the full-moon to attend class.

"I'll see about that. I take it everyone should be gathering for supper downstairs? Good. If its one thing I've learned is that food is usually enough to leash most people down enough for me to examine them."

Hiding a grimace Remus opened the door and immediately winced as the sounds of wailing babies, far too energetic children, and the chattering of adults flooded the darkened room. Quickly closing the door behind him, Remus bit the sigh that wanted to escape. It had been nearly two days since he'd chanced over Harry on a battlefield and the only thing to describe the events since then was utter chaos.

Remus could still remember the stomach-dropping nausea that had invaded him the moment Tonks had looked at him, wide-eyed and shaky, and said the Ministry was recalling all Aurors. A simultaneous attack all over Britain, public buildings and the homes of influential wizards and witches (with the occasional Muggle-born and Muggle home thrown in for sheer destruction) were being invaded.

The Order pendant had burned, Ministry alarms had flared, and the voluntary Watchkeep League had signaled as many of its members as possible.

Remus himself had been dispatched with the same Auror team Kingsley Shacklebolt had led. They'd made it in time to watch a shrouded group retreat from Wind's End, a small village of mostly magical parentage. But by then four homes were burning. A quick check had revealed most of the occupants dead, still caught in the last act they would ever do.

He could still remember a girl tucked in her room, her young face lax with sleep having never woken to see the spell that had blown her upper torso in half. Why waste a killing curse when a simple cutting curse could do the trick?

A mother and wife, baby pink yarn tangled in pale fingers, and head three feet away from the rest of her body.

A weathered post outside had named the dead family Clement; the only survivor a five-year old boy cowering under his dead sister's bed and who'd nearly died in the spreading fire. There'd been little any of them could do.

So they'd moved on, knowing it wouldn't be the only target for the particular group they'd barely missed.

And it wasn't.

Eddings Moor had been their next rallying point. Remus would never remember how many gods he implored if only they wouldn't find the same scene repeated. And their first turn of luck finally came their way.

Eddings Moor, a gathering of homes that made up the extended Reinhart Family was protected by a shimmering pale blue shield. A cluster of masked figures stood just outside the perimeter firing spell after spell, watching the shield flare electric green-wisps of magic that flared toward the Death Eaters who managed to just stay out of range. The Aurors were quick to cast anti-Aparation and anti-portkey wards, pouncing on the invaders. Half of them got away but not before seriously injuring an Auror and two 'Keepers, one of which later died from his injuries.

The night did not end there.

About half of them were still fit to continue on to the next rally, Feldyr Valley, just in time to see a Manor's ward's fail and a mesh of Aurors, Order members, and Keepers clash with masked Death Eaters.

And Remus was reminded of those ugly days in the time immediately after he graduated from Hogwarts. Dark magic and death flying about.

Even now he couldn't explain what happened next. One moment there was a press of bodies and the next iridescent trails of misty-fog had shot up from the ground, temporarily stunning foe and friend alike. Their ragtag group had just arrived, fully capable of capitalizing on the largest capture of Death Eaters that night.

He could only wonder what Harry had been doing there; holding two wands—one of which burned his hand and the other which he didn't even dare touch. Something about the second wand made the teeth in his mouth ache and his shoulders tense, his inner wolf howling in protest. His sensitive nose could still pick up the heavy smell of magic that clung to the young wizard even two days after the fact. Whatever had left Harry exhausted had been incredibly powerful.

"You doing all right there?" A soft, throaty voice asked; the speaker being a young blond woman dressed in smudged Healer robes Remus had known for just over a year. A recent recruit that hadn't been old enough to fight in Voldemort's First War.

"I should be asking you that. Have you even slept, Olivia?"

She gave a tired chuckle. "I've forgotten the meaning of the word. Thirty-eight hours in St. Mungo's, twenty of which were spent in lockdown. The only reason I was finally released is because not even pepper-up potion was helping anymore. Besides that it was mostly the first few hours that were the most critical. It's a sad fact but unless they get immediate medical attention, people are liable to die from their injuries."

Wearily Olivia sat down on one of the tables pushed up against the dinning room wall, the room having been expanded to accommodate the influx of refugees. The room was filled with the soft chatter of late dinners. Almost immediately kitchen aids roped in by Mrs. Weasley delivered warm plates to the pair.

"Are people still coming in?"

"Yes." Olivia blew out, mouth stung by too hot tea. "The lucky ones were among the homes hit later in the night. Bastards didn't have enough time to do such a through job; they mostly just blasted the homes when they could and tried to set fire to the rubble. Rescue crews were still digging out survivors thirty hours after."

"Is your family alright?" Remus asked once she'd taken a bite of her meal.

"Merlin, yes." She breathed out shakily, remembering the awful feeling of not knowing if her home was being targeted, if her parents were among the dead, if her sister's family was alright. "I only found out after they lifted the lockdown but my sister and her family left to be with my parents. Their house has older and stronger wards."

Remus glanced around him before leaning in. "Some of the Aurors have been saying that the Death Eaters had a copy of all the wards on the homes. If it was registered with the Ministry then they knew about it. Most of the targets that had survivors or stood with little to no damage were the ones that had wards that weren't accounted for—wards not commonly cast either."

Olivia shivered. "The most awful thing is you just don't know who's behind the mask. The longer you think about it the easier is to image something suspicious about your friend, your neighbor…it's awful."

Remus nearly stiffened. Faith was something he'd already painted in blood and pain nearly two decades ago. There was reason why he was the only Marauder left; one had broken faith and the rest hadn't had enough but they'd all suffered for it. Even foolish Peter whose plot should have worked spent a decade as a rat, abandoning everything he was and knew just to survive the fall out.

"If you can't even trust your friends then we're already lost…"

Olivia was silent as she ate a few more bites, the warm light from various candles dimming the room enough to create a quiet atmosphere. "I know there's a meeting later tonight but frankly I can't stay awake for a moment longer. My brother's running about somewhere here, my parents have their Manor on lockdown, and I've done all I could. Aaron—Healer Myers—also came off shift with me; he should be able to explain anything should anyone have any questions about St. Mungo's."

"Get some rest, Olivia. There should be some unoccupied beds on the third floor—Molly made a sort of girl's dormitory for everyone. Just charm the area around if you want some privacy, I'm afraid there aren't any private rooms."

"It's more than fine. At this point a corner on the floor is looking awfully tempting…"

Remus was left to finish his meal, his thoughts morosely returning to the events of two days ago.

There'd been seventeen dead accounted for in Wind's End, six of them children too young to attend Hogwarts, a toddler among them. He could still smell the heavy coppery smell of blood found in one of the burning homes' bathrooms. A young pregnant woman, chest bloody and gurgling lay sprawled under a shower that she'd never taken; miraculously having survived till just seconds after Remus had arrived.

He remembered a deafening silence roaring, someone screaming before he realized it was him. Because he was a werewolf and in that moment his senses were more open than they'd ever been…because he'd heard such a weak heartbeat fading. An unborn child still struggling.

He'd never had as much respect for any Healer as he had for Auror-Healer Riane Keene in that moment. A no-nonsense woman who'd practically shoved Remus aside in her haste to get to whatever patient she could still save. With precision he'd only seen in Champion marksmen Healer Riane had cut the woman open, and taken a weakly struggling baby, wand waving and lips muttering to clean newly-needed lungs. The night had been so confusing Remus still didn't know what happened to the baby and truthfully he was afraid to know. He didn't know what he would do if the baby hadn't survived the hurried trip to St. Mungo. And still…the thought of a child, an infant, having to survive alone in a world that had already proved unkind left him uneasy. Unsettled perhaps more from the fact that it reminded him too much of another wizard baby and his own failures.

"Remus?"

"Tonks." Remus blinked before his mind caught up with him. "So-Sorry; mind must have wandered off."

"To be expected." The younger woman sighed as eyes lifted to scan the gathered crowd. "Merlin…what a mess."

A sudden influx of people signaled the arrival of the last people there for the Order meeting. An oddly comforting clunking was all that was needed to announce Alastor Moody's presence. He was there to act as the presiding head in the absence of Albus Dumbledore, who was most likely still mired either at Hogwarts or in whatever make-shift Ministry Diggory (if he was still alive) had managed to set up.

"Settle down people! We're all bloody—"

"Alastor! Language." Most members didn't even look in Molly's direction, as used to as they were to the motherly Weasley matriarch.

"—tired but it's important we all know what's going on. The Wizarding Wireless is still down and the Floo system probably won't be operational for months to come so for now the only reliable means of communication is through Muggle telephones. Everyone should see where things get complicated there. Now I'll make this brief, hold your questions till I'm done." Moody's roving eye seemed to stare everyone down, further emphasizing the fact he wouldn't tolerate any cheeky upstarts.

"Hogwarts remains under lockdown with Albus and his staff's keeping a watch on both the Castle and nearby Hogsmeade. For those of you that have children there, owls are still being restricted. All mail will be screened by the faculty before it makes it way to any of the students.

"Last I heard Minister Diggory was injured in the one of the raids and for one reason or another hasn't been able to assume command. I don't know the names of all the Department Heads but about half are still unaccounted for, with two confirmed dead. The Auror Head has since set up command in the Ministry's Administrative building located in Whales. Ministry employees are to check in at Whales with their Department Head or the most senior ranking superior in their department and receive their assignments from them.

"St. Mungo has released a list of dead that will be updated every six hours. There are no visitors allowed as of yet. For security purposes the patient registry will not be released till further security measures have been implemented.

"Wizarding enclaves remain under a dusk curfew that will be enforced forcefully. This isn't the time to be toying the rules.

"On a more personal note, Grimmauld has taken as many people as we can reasonably support. If your families aren't here I suggest you make arrangements for them elsewhere. Order Members should keep their pendants on hand till we officially move out of high alert…

"…Now! Comments?!"

For a second everyone recoiled as Moody practically barked the last question. People shifted, glancing at each other from the corner of their eye. It wasn't surprising no one wanted to be the sole focus of Moody's eye. They might be allies but it didn't mean their allies didn't unsettle them at times.

"Ah…Mr. Moody—I'm Kip. Kip Leevy—A couple of us 'eard that Harry Potter was a fighting in the raids."

Moody snorted, electric blue eye peering at Leevy. "What a schoolboy does or does not to should be the least of your worries. Regardless Potter's under enough death threats for anyone to be talking about his activities or whereabouts. Is that quite understood?"

"I dun mean to interrupt ya sir," another wizard piped up. "But will Mr. Potter be joining our squads here?"

Scarred features twisted in a quickly forming glare. And when Moody glared, he glared. "And what exactly do you expect from a boy a decade younger than you, Pike? Our defense is not dependent on one person. If you feel you need a boy to stand in front of you then what right have you at all to choose who wins and who loses in this war?"

Pike ducked his head hastily.

"Any other questions?"

"Professor Moody?" A woman, young enough to have been a Hogwarts student around the same time Barty Crouch Jr. commandeered the position, stood up. "How long can we stay here? At Grimmauld?"

"Definitely till we move out of high alert. Any longer than that you'll need to talk to the house owner…if you can even find him. While the wards around this old place are some of the best around, Grimmauld remains the staging area for the Order. It isn't safe to continue for long in the midst of civilians.

"When will Professor Dumbledore be by?" Another witch asked.

"Albus has his hands full at is. All the comfort you need should be in the fact he's working to re-establish the Ministry and maintain Hogwarts' grounds.

"That's enough for tonight. Curfew will be maintained tonight, anyone walking about will be Stunned. Any complaints will be booted to the Ministry's refugee camps. The house will go under lockdown, which means no one is leaving the premises till first light. Remember, this isn't a refugee stop. What it is, is some of the strongest wards cast by a succession of powerful wizards and everyone should be damn grateful the dump's been opened up."

Chair legs slid against the floor; footsteps and voices thundered as people stood up, some to return home before Grimmauld was locked down and others to a warm bed. And while tiredness trove many it remained clear nightmares were going to be no stranger.

S

"It's been a while boy." Moody greeted the wary-eyed teenager. The boy in question tiredly propped himself up against his pillows even as the older man took a seat. "Room's warded from spies—used to be the suit of one of the Elder Black's who had a penchant for peculiar…predilections. Mad as hatter but strong enough to have the world pander to his whims….

"Now…Let's get down to business. Frankly, I don't have the time to coddle you like Dumbledore is always playing at. I know bloody well you aren't half the fool you pretend to be and the way I reckon even if we tried keeping you here forcefully you'd be gone one way or another as soon as you're well enough to summon those dammed wands of yours that keep zapping everyone that's gotten near them."

"Oh…" Green-eyes blinked, stunned into silence.

"I'll tell you where they are as soon as you and I have a…chat, preferably one involving a minimum of useless yammering."

It wasn't much like Harry had a choice. So the boy did the only thing he could do. "Sure."

"Very well, Potter." The aged Auror noted with as much grace as his scarred face could convey. "First of all, when the time comes will you fight Voldemort?"

Moody didn't know what to think about the darkly bemused look the younger man gave him. It wasn't to say he didn't recognize (because he did) but he wasn't used to seeing it to such a degree on someone so…young. And that was remembering his childhood in the shadow of the Muggle's World War II and the Dark Lord Grindelwald's campaign. He'd seen children under the shadow of war before but the boy in front of him was dark and jaded as only some of the old veterans had been right before they'd gone one too many missions.

"So much fuss over such a silly child." The green-eyed boy hummed darkly. "So much ado about nothing…few have ever asked me what I would do."

Moody ignored the boy's mood, both because he knew it was somewhat as a result of a magical high and because frankly if the boy wasn't a little cracked by now he'd be more worried. "What will you do then?"

"I'm going to make the bastards pay back everything they've ever done to me." Harry hissed, magic stirring easily, still unstable from the recent workings. "But we'll also pay for everything we've ever done—from the beginning."

The retired Auror frowned, before practically growling his words. "Don't play word games with me; I've swallowed plenty of them already from the old goat Albus. You and Albus can give all the pretty speeches in the world but it is my job to make sure as many people as possible survive this trumped up excuse for a war. Now…tell me anything that will help me save the lives of everyone here!"

The boy was silent for a while, a myriad of thoughts flashing through quick-silver eyes. Finally Harry gave a hollow chuckle. "What did you expect? I've been trained exceedingly well by Dumbledore. But I won't leave you in the blind if that is what you want. Beware Alastor Moody, because your job just got…vastly more difficult.

"Albus Dumbledore won't ever leave Hogwarts." Harry began, seemingly out of no where. "Nor will he ever get much of a chance to. Sometime soon, possibly around two months from now, Voldemort will launch the largest gathering of his army at Hogwarts and he will push to take the school as hard as he can. A prophecy made during Hogwarts founding will finally have a chance to play to completion, drawing in the last of the Founder's Bloodline together in conflict. Win or lose you will be lucky if Hogwarts remains standing.

"That will be your so-called Final Battle" The boy continued on dryly. "And the…funny thing is there isn't much you can do to stop it. Close down Hogwarts and you lose the best opportunity you'll ever have at predicting Voldemort's position. Remove the students and you risk Voldemort changing his plan, never mind the opposition against closing the 'safest place in all Britain'. Remove the Headmaster and you lose one of the strongest defenses against his army Alert too many people and you lose what little control you have over the situation….So Mad-Eye Moody, how will you save them now?"

The retired Auror gave the younger man a level stare. "I'll give you one of my own warnings, then. Beware playing too many games boy, you don't have to be a different species to lose your humanity. Humans in fact oftentimes make the best monsters."

To the older man's surprise Harry just snorted at the warning. "I think I know that better than many. You should have realized the consequences of sending a child to play with monsters long ago. I've become quite good at recognizing them…even when no one else can."

"That prophecy…" Moody returned to the subject, entirely too jaded to care over much over the emotional and mental upheavals of one person. "Is that why you've been disappearing with vampires and the like?"

"It's certainly one of the reasons." Was all Harry was willing to admit.

"Is that all?"

Harry considered carefully; considered the upcoming Final Battle, considered the man before him, considered his own future. Fate could be changed, Abeforth Dumbledore had admitted as much. But sometimes…Harry was as willing as anyone to see it to completion. "I'll tell you this—Albus Dumbledore won't survive. That much is a guarantee. Whether the world remembers him as a hero or the last opposition to a new regime will largely depend on you."

"Just because he won't survive doesn't mean it will be Voldemort's victory, does it?" Moody correctly interpreted.

"They both belong to Founder's bloodlines. That means it's highly unlikely either one will be in any position to enjoy the peace that will follow, under which ever reign should succeed."

"You make it sound as if the bloodlines of the Hogwarts Founders are important to the war but most of them have died one way or another. And the only other person directly related to them will be Morrigan…your new friend, eh?"

"He's Ravenclaw's blood." Harry shrugged, wincing as tired muscles prodded him.

"And it's a right old gathering, isn't it?"

Harry settled back down on his pillows. "It won't do you much good do know that. I've told you what useful information I know. All I can advise you is to make sure Hogwarts has a very good evacuation plan going on. Safest place in Britain or not, it doesn't matter. It isn't wise to keep students there under lockdown once a magical battle the scale of which few living have seen."

"And it still remains to be seen where you will be when the time comes."

Harry gave the older man an indescribable look. "I'm quite tired, Moody. As much as this conversation has been…entertaining, I'll like to take a nap while I can. You must forgive me but I'll be leaving as soon as I can."

Moody snorted as he stood up. "Do as you will, I doubt there'd be much in the way of stopping you anyway."

A cacophony of noises flooded the room as Moody opened the door and closed it behind him.

Alone now Harry starred up at the ceiling and worried. He worried he wasn't strong enough, smart enough. He worried how big a sacrifice the magic would require. Because above all, Harry wasn't going to let himself die without a fight. And he worried how many would judge him for what he wouldn't to.

Albus Dumbledore would die, one way or another, and when the time came Harry would step aside. Harry wasn't in any sort of mood to save the aged man. Because…

…Because Harry…couldn't forgive.

S

"Professor Dumbledore, the time for games is over. I know just as well as anyone else the type of power your…boy plays with but he is an iconic figure. With the Ministry as destabilized as it is, we need every card we can out on the playing field." Auror Fullbright, Minister Diggory's personal advisor, prodded the aged Headmaster for what seemed like the millionth time.

Fullbright had made no secret his disdain for the pretty figurehead a little schoolboy thought to play. But he was a pragmatic man and the recent upheavals made him grasp at every weapon in the Ministry's battered arsenal. Even if it was a naïve boy who preferred the shadows than taking a real stand.

Dumbledore nodded his head in kindly consideration but not in agreement, something that Fullbright sourly noted. And with that the request was dismissed in what Fullbright believed a result of Dumbledore's soft-heartedness. Had Fullbright actually realized how little control Albus Dumbledore retained over his ex-student or even knew where he was he wouldn't have been as frustrated as he currently felt.

"We can not rely on a single child." Dumbledore had the audacity to remind the exhausted Auror.

"And he cannot hide in the shadows while good men and women fight in his name." Fullbright grumpily added.

"Not even Minister Diggory approved of the involvement of children in this conflict."

"Yes…" Fullbright drawled. " Lot of good that does us now. The other side had no problem culling everyone they could—children included. Besides the Minister still hasn't woken up to see the new situation before us."

"Nevertheless, Auror Fullbright, the people haven't sanctioned you with the power to recruit."

Fullbright glared at the distance, unwilling to admit he had no power recruiting the bedammed boy that was certainly powerful enough to make a devastating weapon in the field. "The boy doesn't have to fight now but you can't deny he is one of the most powerful wizards to come out of Hogwarts in decades. Give him over to me and the Aurors and by the time you feel he is ready he'll have all the training to survive in battle."

"Yet it remains a burden no one in good conscious can ask a child to take."

"He's hardly a child, even if you insist on hiding him in your coattails." Fulbright retorted.

"Really Auror, now is not the time to argue over one child. I came to speak with you to find out what I can the new chain of command."

The younger man nodded stiffly, realizing now was the not the time to fall back on old arguments. "Most of the Department Heads are either dead or missing but I wouldn't be surprised if one or two turned up in Russia two years from now recovering from a nasty case of amnesia.

"Minister Diggory would normally be succeeded by the DMLE Head and then one of the other Department Heads. But so far it's been confirmed Madam Bones was one of the first people executed and none of the other Department Heads that actually survive are willing to come out of hiding or capable of holding the position. As such I've been coordinated the Ministry's resources out of Wales.

"Most of the Governing Council survived, despite being targeted, but they've been disbanded while Martial Law remains in effect."

"If you are taking command who will be the new liaison between the Order and the Ministry?"

"I have just the man for you, Fudge's old secretary. I believe he was your student not so long ago, the red-headed Weatherby."

"Very well." Dumbledore said.

"Have you perhaps heard anything about the bothersome Morrigan? Everyone we suspected of being involved with him is suspiciously silent and suspiciously alive."

"Nothing official or unofficial besides some speculation he may have further warded sites of his choosing."

"Troublesome." Fulbright snorted. Although still a complete disarray some of the Aurors had mentioned an odd shield that protected some homes though nothing concrete emerged and no one exactly had the time to investigate such matters.

"Has there been any progress in uncovering who the traitor is?"

Fullbright's face immediately hardened. "No, whoever they were they were very deep in the Ministry to disable so many of our security measures. If they're anywhere as smart as I suspect they would have disappeared by now. And with everything still in disarray it will be a while before our traitor is named."

Both men frowned in the silence. A war wasn't very effective when your allies weren't really your allies.

"I'm afraid I must take my leave. I cannot stay away from Hogwarts for too long, not with the school still in lockdown."

Both men nodded and separated with hardly a goodbye.

S

Ron Weasley would be the first to tell you he wasn't the smartest bloke out there. Despite his best efforts he'd never been the best at anything besides being the Chudley Cannon's most ardent fan.

He wasn't as powerful, as daring, as smart, or even as clever as any of his brothers. In school he'd always been outshined by Hermione 'the smartest girl in Hogwarts' Granger and Harry 'Star Seeker' Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. He'd disappointed many people; his mother for not being as prim as Percy, his best-friend for not understanding, his teachers for being just another knuckle-headed boy with Quidditch on the brain.

But he'd grown.

He'd seen one friend be chased out of Hogwarts by political moves Ron could scarcely understand. He'd almost lost a sister at least three different times (lending credence to the belief that a seventh Weasley was just unlucky). And less than a week ago he'd almost lost his father in the wake of the Ministry attack. For the first time in years Molly Weasley gave thanks to her stubborn husbands refusal to move on up to a Department Head (it was widely understood most of them were dead).

And less than an hour ago he'd woken up to find a letter next to his bedside. Had it been anyone else Ron would have dismissed it as a bad joke. But when Harry Potter gave you a letter in the middle of a war, there were worse things one could do than pay attention.

Ron,

Find an escape route.

It will happen soon and when it does everyone must be ready to leave the grounds as fast as they can. Talk to those you trust, find a way out.

Hogwarts will be no place for anyone. Use the Map if need be.

There is a favor I would ask of you. I'll tell you soon. If you say yes, you mustn't ever tell anyone. It's important.

Take care of yourself. Don't let anyone you suspect goad you into a fight. They all know what's coming and everyone's afraid.

We'll see each other soon…Thank you.

Harry

Ron didn't like how…final that letter sounded. Like something his friend was involved with flirted with certain death.

Ron had never been the smartest boy. But he was a good strategist, and right now that was the best thing he could be. He'd find a way.

He'd protect his classmates, he'd give them a way out in what he knew would be a nasty fight. And he hoped the promise of finality in Harry's letter could be stopped. He'd do whatever favor needed of him, because he had begun to understand just what type of sacrifice had been made of Harry's life.

It was the least he could do.

S

"It's natural for humans to try and explain and classify their environment. Everything they know, whether relevant or not, are named and in doing so humans are given the illusion of control.

"A lion is a lion and being a lion it has sharp claws with a taste for meat. Because a lion is a lion, humans know better than to go up to it and pet it like they would a housecat. And since a lion is a lion, humans think they can respond properly and control any interactions.

"The same line of thought will generally adjust itself to any situation. Generally being the key because there is nothing general about magic. Magic isn't just magic when a lion can become a pigeon from one second to the next.

"Despite that, humans' quantified magic; building it up from a few key fundamentals, most stemming from the manipulation of the natural world. The standardization of Wizarding enclaves gave rise to an easily accessible and well-documented curriculum from which Wizarding children could readily be inducted in. While this synchronization allowed Wizarding communities to expand their numbers beyond what they could previously have supported, there where some unforeseen consequences.

"Magic isn't just magic and any such explanation that tries to define it otherwise is inherently flawed.

"Primal magic, the first level of manipulation, is first and foremost based on belief and will. That is where the old school of thought and the new conflict, for how can one say this belief is stronger, worthier, more relevant than that one?

How can one say this will can supersede another, when will is often times a product of endurance and sheer doggedness. All precedents must eventually shatter when one considers the fact that will is sometimes all that is needed to make the impossible, possible.

"Thus, will is a nexus of endless possibilities. And because of this magic is magic, and magic is undefined."

"It's very good." Harry said, hand tracing the worn edges of the yellowed scroll.

"I thought you might like it." Amos murmured from his perch on top of a thick winding evergreen.

"Did you write it?"

A slow chuckle drifted in the calm air. "Not me; magical theory never really was my field of interest. If you can believe it, it was a dissertation proposed by me eldest childe, Likos, who died in the age of the Romans."

"So…will and belief?"

"Once you forget everything anyone has ever taught you, does it make you any less of a wizard? Power is power."

"…power is power…"

Idly the Elder vampire glanced at the mortal boy. Maybe it was because humans' life-spans were relatively short compared to those of his own kind, but when a vampire would see something like 'power is power' it would have an entirely different impact than when humans or even a wizard would hear 'power is power'. That was one of the reasons why Amos had the feeling Harry would take the idea somewhere surprising.

And for a vampire as old as Amos, surprising was generally synonymous with interesting.

"…Amos?...Could I ask you a favor?"

The Elder frowned, wary of such a question. "The Clans have already reached a consensus, child. We will withdraw from Britain, leaving behind only the bare essentials to guard our Houses. It is as you yourself asked of us. We will not bind ourselves to this war; none that remain have any fealty to the Clans."

"I am grateful but that is not what I wanted to ask."

"Oh?"

"There will come a time…I'll need help. I will finish this war, fate be dammed…but I might not be able to protect myself."

"You would have us spirit you away?"

"I will be vulnerable." Harry admitted, not altogether eagerly.

"Does it mean you will tell me whatever mad plan you've dreamt up?"

"…no."

Amos sighed, not surprised. "Very well. Spiriting away doesn't break any agreements we have dealt."

Harry nodded and hoped he wasn't making empty plans for a future too hazy to see. But either way time was running out.

"Almost?" Amos asked carelessly, as if the question didn't lead to large-scale death and massive destruction.

Green-eyes flared milky for less than a second before Harry shivered. "…Almost."

Almost.

No longer the time for reconciliation's, for finishing work left half-done or saying words that shouldn't be left silent. No time to settle the ghosts of his rag-tag family, bumbling as they had been. No time to fix the damage that had scarred them all with wounds that would always need to be favored. No time.

Almost.

S

A tea cup trembled in wrinkled hands as it was set down on a scarred and stained table. An old man shifted minutely, pale milky eyes sightlessly fixed on a spot on the floor.

A nearby fireplace crackled, the old man's only constant company for more years than he cared to remember.

Almost, whispered mad voices.

With ease that spoke of familiarity, the old man gingerly shuffled to the fireplace before carefully dousing the flames. A hiss of steam smelling of his favorite tea drifted around him before disappearing.

Hands drifted along the familiar contours of his little hut before they touched the cool and slightly damp window pane. Dawn was fast-approaching.

Unlatching the window he threw them open, breathing deeply the cool spring air before settling into silence.

Ever so slowly as the dark night sky lightened a deep blue-violet and sapphire, milky eyes slowly drained. With every blink, pale blue eyes blinked in wonder.

For the first time since he'd been a young man, unaware of the madness that would dog his steps, Aberforth Dumbledore saw the world through his own eyes.

Brilliant gold rays broke through distant hills.

Behind him two men drifted in through assassins' feet.

Abeforth smiled with something like joy as his body fell, sprawled on the ground like a broken toy. Blue eyes drifted close, finally freed of their burden.

And Abeforth didn't See anymore.

S

TBC….

AN: Thing are winding down for the end. And yes, it took me a while but I'll finish it next chapter (and pray to all your cookie-gods next chapter doesn't come till another year)

Anyway this was my first story and I hope I've grown somewhat.

Thanks to all your scarily persistent reviews. It made me guilty each time that little number would climb one more.

I think that's it for now.