Chapter 28: A Separation of Fates

"Dad!" Albus yelled through the air, rushing forward passed the motionless shapes of Fairhart and Wilde. He slid to the ground on his knees as he approached the cell, then reached his arms through the bars to grab hold of his father.

"Dad it's okay, we're going to get you out-"

His father looked up at him, his eyes somehow both alive and dead. He seemed to peer right through the face of his son, a furious expression stretching across his sallow skin.

"You!" he roared, the tears fresh on his face, and he pointed a shaky finger through the bars. "You brought him here!"

Albus turned and saw that his father was looking at Fairhart, who was looking quite unperturbed. He didn't bother responding, though Albus saw that he was standing in an odd way, his hand pressed up against his abdomen.

"Dad it's okay" Albus repeated softly, unsure as to why his father was being like this. His seclusion must have affected his thinking, but Albus couldn't worry about that now. "San's on our side, we're busting you out of here- San!" he yelled, jerking his head over.

Fairhart made his way over to the cell with a bit of a limp, but as soon as he neared them he brandished his wand. Albus' father seethed as he watched Fairhart strike his wand through the air rapidly, a crazed, enraged look on his face.

The metal bars soon began twisting themselves slowly just as they had with Wilde's cell-

Albus jumped back as his father tossed himself through the gap in the bars, his hands raised as if to throttle Fairhart. Fairhart grabbed him and threw him back with considerable ease though, looking affronted.

"Dad what are you doing-"

"You brought him here!" his father yelled out at Fairhart again, and Albus noticed from the corner of his eye that Wilde was pressed up against the metal door, looking quite out of place. "You- you- you-"

"I forced your son into nothing" Fairhart said, looking irked himself; perhaps he thought that some appreciation was in order.

But seeing the rabid look on his father's face had enlightened Albus as to what was going on. His father, even in his deteriorated state and looking as though he was on the brink of death, was most concerned with the safety of his son; a safety that had been thrown out the window the second that they'd boarded the boat.

"You- you- you brought him here! He's just a boy-"

"Dad!" Albus yelled, annoyed himself now. "I'm not just a kid anymore! And I'm here to get you out! Now let's go!"

His father looked at him oddly for a moment, but then, as if the previous few moments hadn't even happened, he stood up.

"How did this happen?" he asked darkly, sounding at once as though he was in charge. "How did you get here, how did-"

"I'll explain later" Albus said, turning around and eyeing the metal door nervously."We've got people to worry about now."

His father's expression flickered, and in an instant it became sharper; more astute.

"How many?" he asked.

"A lot" Fairhart said, and he walked over to Wilde, who flinched as a swift movement was made his way-

But Fairhart had simply ripped the wand from his hand, then threw it over to Albus' father, who caught it and examined it at once, looking surly.

"Who here has their own wand?" he asked.

"San and I" Albus said.

"I have Ares'" Wilde chimed in, and all three of them looked at him incredulously, the tension in the air evaporating slightly by this revelation.

"Red Ares'?" Albus' father asked him. "Why do-"

"He gave it to me back when he first started using the Dragonfang Wand" Wilde said with a shrug. "For safe-keeping-"

"Do you have it on you?" Albus' father asked, sounding very much as though he'd prefer that one to the entirely unfamiliar one in his hands now.

"No-"

"Useless" Fairhart commented acidly, and he turned to the door. "Everyone get ready" he said hoarsely. "You, get in front" he added to Wilde.

"No!" Albus' father yelled, and he stepped forward, nudging Fairhart out of the way. "Me and you take the lead" he said aggressively, and Fairhart eyed him with interest, his mangled face darkening.

Albus watched the exchange with apprehension, catching on to what was happening. Both Fairhart and his father were natural leaders, and they both wanted to be in control now.

"Look let's just- just take this one step at a time" Albus said lowly. "And map out where we're going-"

"Back to the chamber with all the doors, of course" Wilde suggested. "From there we can-"

"Shut up!" Fairhart cut him off, sparing him a glance and then turning back to the metal door.

Wilde went quiet, and Albus, sensing that Fairhart was in more of a hurry than anything else, braced himself and headed towards the door. He stood next to his father as Fairhart began making slashing movements, and he couldn't help but notice that his father was eyeing the scarred wizard with an intense dislike; though Albus could hardly blame him. It was Fairhart's murder for which he'd been imprisoned, and he'd willingly taken that blame to keep his son safe; a safety that Fairhart had actually ignored in bringing him here.

But still, it felt good to be next to his father again; to know that he was alive, and safe, and now had just as much a chance of getting off this wretched island as the rest of them, except for perhaps Wilde, who's fate Albus wasn't entirely sure he could control. Even as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his dad, now nearly the same height, he felt the knot in his stomach ease up, the sensations that he'd been postponing now flooding through him with a vengeance. He realized that he was hungry and thirsty; that he had to go to the bathroom. He realized that he'd had only a few hours of sleep in the last day or so, and that his body was ready to shut down once they were safe from harm, which, he realized with glee, was starting to look like a very big possibility.

He heard the sound of a clicking lock, and, knowing at once that he had at least one more battle to get through, he raised his wand-

"Get behind me, Albus-"

Albus stared forward blankly, intensity squeezing its way through the air. Both his father and Fairhart had said the same thing at the exact same time. Albus watched as his father moved forward with his wand raised, throwing a glare Fairhart's way. Fairhart, Albus noticed, looked down at the ground, but just then the iron door swung open-

Albus prepared to fire a spell, but he couldn't even see anything. Both his father and Fairhart had marched into the corridor with their wands raised, and Albus could hear the yells of Dark Alliance members as they fired curse after curse through the filthy hall. Albus was forced to crouch and maneuver his head around to spectate the battle, and he saw what looked like twenty hooded and masked figures lining the walls, raising their wands to attack and being defeated almost immediately.

It was like watching two unstoppable, but unrelated forces at work. His father and Fairhart walked forward with something resembling arrogance as they slashed their wands through the air with tenacity and precision, both of them whirling their instruments overhead to create among the most complex looking shield charms that Albus had ever seen; they were making sure that nothing got by them to hit him.

Had a stranger been watching, it would have been impossible to tell which was his father.

He kept his own wand raised needlessly, Wilde cowering along behind him with his hands over his head. Albus watched the expertise of the two powerful wizards in front of him with awe, noticing that while Fairhart was mostly firing jets of green, his father was slashing his wand like a sword.

"Sectumsempra! Sectumsempra!" he was roaring, and large gashes were sending the Dark Alliance members to the floor, their shield charms unable to block the power of the curse, blood splattering down their fronts from wherever they'd been hit. Albus realized that this was the same curse his father had used on Ares about two years ago, and acknowledged that it seemed to be reserved for only the most desperate of situations.

But still, watching his father plow through helpless masked victims was a simultaneously horrifying and awe-inspiring experience. He was sure that the incantation would be burned in his head for years to come.

The shouting stopped, and Albus understood this to mean the danger was over. He watched as Fairhart and his father moved along slowly, stepping over bodies that were either dead or huddled in blood. Albus and Wilde followed along after them diligently, reaching the end of the corridor and then going through the small door that led to what Albus had surmised before as a waiting room of sorts. It was then through only one more battered door that they found themselves again in the chamber with different ways to go. They'd only been in it for a second when his father strode over to a random door with confidence.

"Through here" he said gruffly, and Albus realized that he probably had a much better idea of the prison's layout than even Wilde. He cringed inwardly at the thought; this meant that Wilde was no longer needed, and that Fairhart could get rid of him...

They followed him through the door, Fairhart right behind him, with Albus just behind Fairhart and Wilde, predictably, at the end of the line. They found themselves in another corridor of cells, but strangely, this one was shaped more like a labyrinth; at various points the rows of bars stopped to allow turns to be made, and Albus understood this to be a general area for prisoners, as opposed to one specifically designated for those who were most dangerous. The Caterwauling Jinxes had either ceased or could not be heard in this area, and the silence that surrounded them was unnerving to say the least; he could hear all of their footsteps as they treaded the stone.

"How does Darvy have so many people at his disposal?" asked Fairhart sternly, sounding as though he was mostly talking to Albus' father.

Wilde went to answer, but Fairhart turned and silenced him with a grave look.

"His forces increase everyday" Albus' father answered despondently, still bringing them to gaps in the cells and making them move through the maze of prisoners intricately; it seemed as though even he was getting a little confused.

"I expected his ranks to grow once he invaded, but not to this degree" Fairhart said icily. "And why do some of the cells show signs of struggle?"

Albus too was curious of this, but he was more interested in the way Fairhart and his father were speaking. It seemed that despite whatever bitterness was there, they had both realized that they were better off collaborating.

"When Darvy first overtook Azkaban he made an offer to all of the prisoners" his father said lowly. "Join him or continue to rot in their cells. About half adorned masks at once, but many objected."

"Why?" Albus asked.

"Not every prisoner here is an advocate of what Darvy does" his father answered him almost automatically, still navigating his way through the rows of cells. "Many of the Death Eaters followed Voldemort because they were pure-blood enthusiasts, not intent on killing as many people as possible. Not considering Darvy to be in the same league as their old master, they neglected to join. And beyond that, many prisoners in here are Renegades; they would rather rot than pledge their service to the Dark Alliance."

"So why doesn't Darvy just killed them?" Albus asked.

"He does" his father told him. "But he uses them first."

"How-"

"Darvy is breeding his army in the graveyard" his father said, and Albus nodded from behind him. "But he seems to be having trouble controlling it. Every day, he experiments in ways to exhibit more control over them, and so he randomly selects a prisoner and throws them into the graveyard to be ripped to shreds alive."

Albus widened his mouth in horror, and indeed, he even saw Fairhart tense up as well. He looked over his shoulder to see Wilde's face, and saw that it bore grim support for this claim.

"But why-"

"He often forces other prisoners to watch" his father answered him before he could even ask. "Often times, this more than coerces them to change their minds about their allegiances. Many who became Dark Alliance members while here did so out of fear of being made an example of like the individual that they'd just seen being torn to pieces. The first time warranted the most results. My prison guard...the one you met before. He was the first one thrown in with those monsters. An entire row of prisoners pledged themselves to the Dark Alliance within the hour. This door up ahead," he added, indicating a door that, like so many others that Albus had seen today, looked ancient and worn.

But Albus had stopped walking. What he'd just heard was now sinking in, and as he stared around at the cells in the labyrinth, he saw that many of them were not as vacant as those from other floors. Many of them were occupied by gaunt faces, and bodies that were strewn on the floor carelessly, all of them apparently oblivious to what was going on around them.

"We have to free them" Albus said at once, and his father and Fairhart both turned.

"Albus-" Fairhart started, but it was his father who took over.

"Albus we can't save these prisoners" he said sternly. "I know what you're thinking-"

"Why not?" Albus asked, turning around and eyeing one at random, where sure enough, a grizzly looking man who appeared inches from death was laying on a decaying cot. "We would just have to-"

"Albus there's no time" his father told him pressingly.

"And no point" Fairhart added seriously. "They can't fight, they'll just slow us down-"

"Stay out of this!" Albus' father spat, turning to him briefly with a venomous expression on his face. Fairhart narrowed his eyes but said nothing. "Albus, I want to help these people too, but we can't. We'll die in the process, there's too many, and we don't have much time; Darvy is already aware of what is going on. The best that we can do is get off of this island and get help for them-"

"Dad there is no help!" Albus yelled. "Waddlesworth took over the Ministry and any day now his lot is going to invade here-"

"Then we need to get moving!" his father barked at him. "Albus I agree with you, and I know that you want to save these prisoners, but it is counter-productive for everyone, even them-"

"I'm helping them, I don't care-"

And then his father did what he least expected; he raised his wand at him.

"Albus, you are coming with me if I have to sling you over my shoulder and carry you out-"

"Lower your wand" came a hoarse voice, and Albus saw that Fairhart had pointed his own at his father.

"No!" Albus yelled out, raising his own wand at Fairhart; whatever his adamance at freeing the prisoners, he didn't want to see his father get hurt either, not when he'd just retrieved him.

It was the most peculiar triangle fathomable, with his father aimed to attack him, he himself ready to attack Fairhart, and Fairhart bearing down on his father. Only when Fango Wilde spoke up from outside of their stand-off did they all snap back to their senses.

"If I may speak-"

"No, you can't!" Fairhart snapped at him, but Wilde, strangely enough, continued anyway.

"This is getting us nowhere!" he said loudly, having apparently found some courage in the last minute or so. "And we are still being chased."

"He's right" Albus' father said. "And that means that we have to keep going" he added darkly, and Albus took this to understand that he'd lost.

They all lowered their wands in unison, progressing towards the door in more of a group than their typical straight line. As they neared it, however, Albus heard his father remark something Fairhart's way.

"And don't you ever point your wand at me again Sancticus" he said icily, but Fairhart didn't respond.

Albus couldn't help but admire his father's audacity. He wasn't entirely sure if he could take on Fairhart even on a good day, and yet here he was, malnourished and depleted, using a wand that wasn't even his, and sending threats Fairhart's way. At the same time, however, he realized just now that he hadn't accounted for the fact that his father was not going to be willing to cooperate with his scarred friend. Though Fairhart had made no mention of it yet, he was fairly certain that they still had another job to do while in the prison.

They passed through the door and found themselves, again, on the platform of a staircase. Strangely though, these stairs only led downwards, and it appeared as though they did so in a straight manner; Albus could spot no turns of any sort.

"Where are we going?" he asked his father.

"These will take us straight down to the bottom floor of the prison. Then it's just a few more doors and we're out the prison, on the right of the graveyard. We can get on the Ministry trail from there-"

Fairhart came to a halt, and did Albus. They exchanged a quick look, and Albus knew that his fears from a second ago were coming to fruition. Likewise, it seemed that his former professor was expecting him to be the one to deliver the news to his father.

"Dad we- we can't go yet" Albus said, and his father turned to him, their green eyes meeting at once.

"It's fine Albus, I know how to get back on the trail. I helped design it-"

"No dad- n- no" he said, shaking his head, and he inhaled deeply while his father stared at him. "Dad I can't leave yet. Me and- me and San still have something to do here."

His father's eyes widened into a expression that suggested he was nothing short of baffled.

"What are you- what are you talking about? Albus-"

"It's okay Al" Fairhart said from next to him. "Go with your father. I'll get the Book on my own, and see if I can get the Wand too-"

"The Book?" Wilde asked, his ears perking up, but before he could say anything else Albus' father had already started to holler.

"What's going on here!" he roared, and he rounded on Fairhart. "What- what did- what did you tell him! What nonsense-"

"Dad stop it!" Albus yelled out. "San's trying to help! He thinks that we can stop Darvy if we just-"

"No!" his father roared, looking back and forth between them as if they'd be conspiring behind his back. "No! Albus you are coming with me! If Sancticus wants to stay behind then-"

"Dad I had a deal with him!" Albus yelled out, his throat now sore. "He- he helped me get to you, just like he said, and now I'm going to keep up my end-"

"Harry, listen to me," Fairhart started, "Albus is much stronger than you think he is. I have trained him, and we did have an agreement. It is up to him if he-"

"Shut up!" Albus' father roared, spit flying from his mouth, an explosive look on his face. Fairhart made to yell back, but what came his way next stopped him at once.

"You're not his father! If you were a father, you'd understand!"

Silence overtook them all at once. Albus cast a sideways glance over at Wilde, whose eyes were wide open, his entire body rigid; he could have been a statue. He knew that his father had no way of knowing the effect that his words would have on Fairhart, but either way, the blank look that had stretched itself out on Fairhart's hideous face was enough to make him speak up.

"Dad...dad just- just- just calm down-"

"You're coming with me!" his father roared, turning to him frantically. "You are sixteen years old, and I will not allow-"

A streak of red light connected with his father from behind, and he toppled over at once, unconscious.

"No!" Albus yelled out in surprise, and he crouched down to grab hold of him. He looked up and saw that Fairhart had his wand raised.

"Why did you-"

"Albus listen to me" Fairhart said, his voice crisp and hollow. "Your father is not in charge of this mission-"

"-I know, you are-"

"No, I'm not" Fairhart cut him off, shaking his head. "You are. What you do now is up to you. I am at least going to try and get the Foulest Book; I do not want to leave this island empty handed. If you want to come with me, then come with me, if you wish to leave with your father, then go. I will hold nothing against you."

Albus said nothing, absorbing Fairhart's appearance. His face was still swollen from the Nundu encounter, his shoulder still raw and purple from the Silhouette. The pink around his eyes was no longer prominent, but this would be a difficult task considering all that it was up against. And, Albus realized just now for the first time, there was a tear in his robes by his lower left side.

"You were hit by a curse back there, weren't you?" Albus asked him quietly. "When I was fending them off..."

Fairhart didn't answer. He instead reiterated what he'd said before.

"I will hold nothing against you if you choose to-"

"I'm coming with you" Albus cut him off. "I just- I just don't know what to do with my dad-"

"You" Fairhart said, turning to Wilde, who blinked foolishly at being addressed.

"Take him back to the trail" Fairhart told him, and together, he and Albus scooped up his father and leaned him on Wilde's shoulder. "Get to the Apparition point and-"

"I don't know exactly where the Apparition point is" Wilde said at once. "I- I- I-"

"Figure it out then!" Fairhart growled at him. "If worst comes to worst, revive him, he'll know" he added, nodding his head at the unconscious figure leaning on him, and he bent down to scoop up the dropped wand and hand it over to him.

Albus watched the exchange tensely, realizing that there was a lot more to it than what was on the surface. For starters, Fairhart was trusting Wilde.

Wilde nodded obediently at what he was being told. Fairhart stared him down as he started to walk down the stone steps, supporting Albus' father as he did so, but he stopped while on the top step.

"You're going after the Foulest Book?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?" Albus asked.

"Do you know where it is?"

"We think it's below ground level" Fairhart said, sounding annoyed. "We'll head back to where we first entered-"

"No!" Wilde shouted at once, shaking his head vigorously as he did so. "No- no. The Veil is at the bottom of the prison, and Darvy is with it. The Book- the Book is closer to the top. The chamber with all the doors, it's the last door on the right. Follow the stairs up, it'll take you to another chamber."

"Thanks" Albus said, relieved that they wouldn't have to wander around any longer than necessary.

Wilde nodded, then turned to Fairhart, who said nothing. They simply gazed into one another's eyes for a moment, and Albus felt his insides squirm at the delicacy of the situation...

Wilde turned and began heading down the stairs with his father, not looking back for so much as a glance.

"Come on, let's go" Albus said, tugging at Fairhart's shirt. Fairhart turned to him with a dazed expression on his face, as though he'd been lost in thought briefly.

"Right" he said. "Let's go..."

They stormed back through the door and into the labyrinth of cells once more, the final stages of their mission commencing. It was just the two of them again, jogging along briskly through dirty corridors and staying shoulder to shoulder, wands raised in preparation at what their next challenge would be.

It was still Fairhart leading the way though. Albus had no idea how to move through the maze of cells, but Fairhart, it seemed, had been paying a considerable amount of attention as they'd walked through them before. He was turning and leading them around corners with even more confidence than Albus' father had, and Albus took this brief respite of navigation to say what was on his mind.

"You let Wilde live" he stated firmly, staring straight ahead as he spoke.

"Someone had to help your father get to safety" Fairhart told him, and Albus detected a hint of disappointment in his voice.

Albus looked down. This was now the second time that Fairhart had let his revenge elude him, both because it profited Albus' father-and really, Albus himself-in some way. This time, however, it seemed unlikely that Fairhart was going to get another shot at it.

"Erm- I'm sor-"

"It's fine, Albus" Fairhart said, sparing him a glance as they turned sharply. "Their fate is separate from ours now. We must focus on what lies ahead for us, not on what may have happened before."

"Do you trust him?" Albus asked pointedly. "With my dad?"

"I really had no choice" Fairhart said. "But to be honest...there is no reason for Wilde to not get your father off this island, and beyond that, he my need him as well. I believe that your father is as safe as can be right now, Albus, all things considered."

Albus nodded his head appreciatively, then stopped in his tracks along with Fairhart. They'd successfully made it back to the beginning of the labyrinth. They opened the door, preparing to enter the chamber filled with more of them-

"Over here!" someone snarled.

Albus took aim with his wand, sizing up the ten or fifteen Dark Alliance members that had been waiting in the chamber. Before he could even fire a spell however, Fairhart had grabbed him by the robes roughly.

"After me!" he yelled, and Albus ran with him by the wall of the large chamber, hexes of all different colors being fired at them rapidly.

They both made identical, circular wand movements as they strode forward, just as they had before. The streaks of light caught in their peripheral vision were all bounced back jaggedly, the miniature disks of energy propelling them at odd angles. Albus kept this up with fierce concentration; it was much harder to do so when moving so quickly. He watched as Fairhart broke free from his own movements to knock open a door that must have been the one that Wilde had indicated. Albus followed him through it-

They found themselves in front of a straight line of stone-cut stairs similar to the ones that Wilde and his father had just went down. These stairs ascended instead though, and Albus followed Fairhart up them while aiming his wand over his shoulder, firing stunners ferociously at the group that he knew was now chasing them up the steps. A streak of red whizzed by his ear, nearly hitting Fairhart as well, and he realized that it had been his own spell deflected back at him.

He turned around and took aim with his wand at the Dark Alliance member that was in the lead.

"Fracturus!" he cried, aiming his wand down at the man's knee. There was a powerful banging noise, followed up by the crunching of bone and the wailing of the Dark Alliance member, who toppled over, clutching at his shattered knee in pain.

"Fracturus!" Albus yelled, his feet still moving upwards but his body turned to the side so that he could look at his pursuers. "Fracturus! Fracturus!"

He fired each curse with deadly accuracy, making sure to concentrate hard on what he was aiming for. Two Dark Alliance members attempted to create Shield Charms, but the curse was too powerful, breaking their wrists and making them fall over from the pain. Another one was caught right at his hip bone; he gave a high pitched shriek and slumped himself against the wall in agony.

But there were too many of them, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to keep it up forever.

"How many more stairs!" he yelled up at Fairhart.

"We're about to hit a platform now!" he yelled.

Albus aimed his wand at the ground, preparing to do exactly what he'd done earlier. He reached the platform just a moment after Fairhart had-

"Glisseo!" he exclaimed, and the indentations in the stone that served as steps flattened at once. The Dark Alliance members slipped and fell down, yelling furiously, all but one who had leapt into the air and who seemed intent on making it to the platform as well-

"Peis Progressius!" he yelled, aiming his wand at his adversary's feet and thinking of the heaviest thing he could at the moment, like a Chimaera or a Nundu-

The wizard gave a yelp and dropped on to the slide-like floor at once, weighed down immensely by his shoes. Slowly, his arms flailing, he slipped backwards and into darkness...

"The Book should be in here" Fairhart said, and when Albus turned he saw that they were facing yet another wooden door, though strangely, this one didn't appear to be in too bad of shape. Indeed, it looked as though it had been fixed up a bit recently.

"So we just get the Book-"

"And then we go" Fairhart told him. "I will be satisfied with taking away just Darvy's instrument of the future, I can worry about the Wand and Veil at a later point. Let's just get out of here alive" he added, and Albus thought that he detected a wheeze in his voice. Albus saw that he was gripping his side, where the curse had hit; it was causing him more pain than he'd like to admit.

"Right" he said, nodding, and together, they pushed open the door.

They were met with immediate darkness. Though Albus could see nothing at first, he knew at once from how the darkness extended that they'd entered a large chamber, larger even than the one that had contained all of the doors from before. A chill had entered the air as well, and for a wild moment, he considered that maybe they were outside-

And then he saw it. Squinting, he saw what looking like a fluttering movement, something that reminded him of-

"The Veil..." he whispered in confusion.

A bead of light erupted from Fairhart's wand, and to Albus' surprise, it turned upwards, illuminating his face. It looked panic stricken, as though a terrible thought had just crossed his mind-

"San-"

"Albus listen to me" he said lowly, and the silence contained within the darkness started to ring in his ears. "Back at the cabin there is a silver box. You must open-"

"San I don't-"

A screech entered the air around them, a shrill battle-cry that made every hair on Albus' body stand up. He felt the fear manifest itself on his own face, and he went to light his wand as well, but there was no need, for at that very moment what sounded like twenty other shrieks echoed through the air simultaneously, and light filled the room at once, as easily as if a switch had been hit. The light blinded him momentarily, but the second that he'd regained his vision he looked straight ahead, and he saw that they were in a chamber; a dirty, dusty, massive chamber with torches on the wall. And sitting in the middle of the chamber majestically was, not the Foulest Book, as they'd anticipated, but the large and looming Executioner's Veil, billowing ominously before them.

And then he saw movement. From both sides skeletal creatures had advanced on them, tall and menacing, the bits of skin on them hanging off sloppily as they dashed towards them, screeching ferociously.

"Confringo!" Albus yelled, and he heard Fairhart do the same. "Confringo! Confringo!"

He uttered the spell as fast as he could, but his curses were barely effective; all that they did was blow the Silhouettes back, and only once did any real damage occur, with one of the creatures being blasted into a pile of bones. He ducked a swipe from one of the creatures and rolled underneath the grip of another, then turned to look at Fairhart, who was whipping his wand around fiercely, his Blasting Curses powerful enough to reduce each and every Silhouette that they met to dust-

But he was not as healthy as he'd been when they'd first reached the island. His movements were slow, and his body weak. Albus raised his wand to help but failed to get there in time; a Silhouette behind him had already slashed him in the back. Fairhart gave a cry of pain and sank to his knees as dark red blood splattered from behind him, and he dropped his wand-

"No!" Albus roared, and the Silhouette that was attacking him stopped at once, as did the others around him.

But they didn't stop around Fairhart. Another one gave a screech and slashed him across the chest, sending him toppling over onto the ground-

"Stop!" someone called, and the Silhouettes all ceased moving at once. Albus didn't even need to turn to see whose voice it had been, but he did so anyway.

It was Darvy. From the corner of the chamber he was emerging, his long blonde hair filthy and matted as though he was one of his own prisoners, his expression maniacal. He was smiling widely, his electric blue eyes lively, as though he was enjoying what he was seeing a great deal. His long black robes billowed just like the Veil, and it was only at this moment that Albus realized that his analysis from before had been nearly correct.

They were somewhat outside. The wall behind Darvy had been removed, revealing nothing but crisp air and the whistling of the ferocious wind. Albus didn't need to guess why. However high up in the prison they were, Albus was sure that if he gazed down right at the opening where Darvy was standing, he would see the graveyard; see the army of Death's Right Hand.

This is where he was breeding his army, and he was keeping an eye on it all at the same time.

The Silhouettes had all stopped as soon as Darvy had called for them to, and Albus saw that he was holding the Dragonfang Wand up high as he walked, a malevolent sneer playing on his twisted face as he approached. Albus raised his wand-

A streak of light hit his hand, and the Disarming Spell knocked him down to the floor as well. Albus glanced up and saw his wand fly through the air, and he realized that Darvy was not alone. A few, unmasked Dark Alliance members were in the chamber as well, all of them grinning. The one nearest him, who had his wand raised, caught Albus' wand and pocketed it at once.

"Hold him" Darvy said loosely, and Albus felt a a sharp blow to the back of the head. Dazed momentarily, he was grabbed onto under each arm, then brought to his knees by two Dark Alliance members.

He couldn't take his eyes off of Fairhart. Laying in a pool of his own blood, he was writhing around slightly, apparently too weak to do much else other than groan and squirm. He wand was laying a few feet away from him, his hand outstretched as though he was reaching for it, the silver ring on his finger glinting just a few inches away from it.

"Bring him to me" Darvy ordered sharply, and Albus watched as two more Dark Alliance members hurried over to the clump of blood and robes on the ground. They grabbed him roughly by his legs, one each, and drug him across the stone floor slowly and carelessly, creating a trail of blood as they did so.

Albus felt sadness wash through him as he watched them drag his friend along, his moans of pain intensifying as his wounds were subjected to the friction of the ground. But his sadness was nothing compared to his rage. Anger was coursing through his veins, and he wanted nothing more than for his voice from weeks ago to take over. To transform into a monster far worse and much more powerful than any Silhouette. To kill them, all of them, with little more than a breath...

They drug Fairhart all the way over to Darvy, who was standing by the Veil, the smile stretched on his face the most vile that Albus had ever seen it. Once they brought him over they dropped his legs and went around to the top of his body, seizing him by under his arms and bringing him, just like Albus, to his knees.

Albus felt tears stream down his cheeks when he saw him. Blood was trailing from Fairhart's mouth; he'd been coughing it up. His torso too was splattered with it, the deep wounds of the Silhouette's sharp claws open and leaking red copiously. His eyes were half-closed, and he appeared to be slipping into unconsciousness from blood loss...

Darvy crouched down so that he was eye level with him. For a moment he simply stared at him viciously, an almost hungry expression on his face, and then-

He struck him across the face with his fist. Fairhart's head snapped to the side, but then shot right back, as though he was asking for another. His eyes were wide open now, even the one on the disfigured side of his face, and they showed nothing but hatred in them; not even fear.

"Sancticus Fairhart!" Darvy crooned, and he stood up and lightly pointed a finger down at him, as though he were presenting him as a gift. Several of the Dark Alliance members chortled, but Albus didn't understand. How did Darvy even know who Fairhart was?

Darvy crouched down low again, and Albus felt the Dark Alliance members grip his shoulder tightly, as if they were just suddenly realizing that he wasn't as injured as they thought. He also felt movement behind him, and realized that at least one more of them now had their wand raised at him.

"You know, I know you" Darvy said daintily, his mouth curling into another sneer. "Did you know that?"

Fairhart said nothing, but Albus saw that his entire body was shaking, blood dripping down his chin violently as it did so.

"Fango Wilde was always so frightened of you" Darvy continued, and Albus saw Fairhart's eyes widen even further, if such a thing were possible.

"But he was worried for nothing, wasn't he!" Darvy shouted loudly, and he cackled, turning to aim his question at the Dark Alliance members, who all laughed along with him.

"Let go of him" Darvy said lowly to the Dark Alliance members holding Fairhart up, and he fell over at once, unable to support himself. There were a few more chortles from the figures holding Albus, and he felt his blood boil.

Slowly, and with the Dragonfang Wand still raised up in one hand, he grabbed Fairhart by the back of his robes and drug him a few inches over, towards the Veil. Lightly, he placed him against the side of the giant archway, so that he was literally inches from going through it.

"There you go," Darvy said mockingly, "now you can sit up without help!"

The Dark Alliance members all laughed again, and Albus felt his own body shake with fury. If only he could get to his wand. But he wasn't even sure which of the Dark Alliance members holding him had it, and even if he did start to fight back, there were always the Silhouettes as well...

Darvy crouched back down to speak to Fairhart again, apparently still not quite finished with his routine.

"Fango always warned me about what a skilled wizard you were" he said, as though there had been no interruption. "I just- you know- I don't get it" he added, sniggering, his grin wide and malicious. "I mean, he went on about it for years! Even used to tell my brother to watch out for you! Ha!"

The Dark Alliance all chortled again, but when Albus looked at Fairhart his stomach churned; Fairhart had glanced back at him.

What was he saying, in his second-long glance? There had been a hint of betrayal in it, but Albus knew that it hadn't been directed at him. He knew what was going through Fairhart's mind right now, and it had nothing to do with Darvy, or the pain he was in, or the blood spilling from his body. He was thinking of Fango Wilde. Fango Wilde, whose perfidious nature knew no bounds, and who had purposefully sent them in the wrong direction for the Book. Who had, inexplicably, betrayed him yet again.

"Don't believe me?" Darvy spat sweetly, and Fairhart gazed back at him with flared nostrils, wearing what Albus was sure was the most hateful face that he could muster. "Oh yes, me and Fango go way back" he said, his grin not flickering for a moment. He was enjoying every second of this.

Albus watched the scene with hundreds of thoughts racing through his head. First and foremost was saving Fairhart and getting them out of here; but that was shaping up to be the first task on this island that seemed truly impossible. But his next thoughts were of a dreadful curiosity. Where was Darvy going with all of this?

Darvy lowered the Dragonfang Wand slightly, holding it up to his face so that Fairhart could gaze at it.

"Did you know that it was Fango who first got me this wand?" he asked, sounding as though he was genuinely inquiring something. Still, he answered his own question at once. "Oh yes, me and Fango used to be good friends, good friends indeed. Why, before I caught him sneaking around with that pompous fool Waddlesworth, we would even do favors for one another! It was Fango who told me where I could find this delightful wand!"

Fairhart kept the same expression on his face while Darvy ranted, but Albus saw that Darvy was just getting started it seemed. He shifted his weight a little to get more comfortable, then grinned even wider than before, showing his yellow teeth.

"I lent it to my brother for a bit," he went on, gazing at the golden wand with a look of infatuation, "but Red didn't know what to do with it, so I took it back" he said icily, and the Dark Alliance members all laughed once more.

Darvy then leaned in a bit, his gaze now completely on the wand, a nostalgic expression playing on his beaming face.

"I remember it like it was yesterday" he said reminiscently. "Wilde telling me where I could find the wandmaker who owned this wonderful creation. We were such good friends at the time, you see, that Wilde wasn't even beyond asking a favor of me. Which of course, I did, out of the kindness of my heart and out of the good spirit of friendship" he said smartly.

Albus continued to watch, his heart pounding. Darvy's face transformed once more, and what Albus saw terrified him more than perhaps anything he'd seen since they left Lambshire. A glint of insanity flashed across his blue eyes, and suddenly, he was looking at Fairhart like a predator that was right about to deliver the final blow to its prey.

"Did you ever wonder why you couldn't find your little girlfriend, when you went looking for her?"

Albus' felt his insides squirm. His heartbeat-which had just been beating quickly-slowed down considerably as Darvy's words, uttered softly and sardonically, played themselves over and over again in his head. He saw Fairhart's expression-once hard and fierce-slowly soften as confusion overtook him.

"She was a smart girl" Darvy said, his eyes still glinting with madness. "She knew what I was the second she saw me. She had a very unrealistic idea of wizards though; seemed to think that calling your name would just somehow bring you there to save her."

Albus felt tears slide down his cheeks once more, and he nearly closed his eyes to avoid the look on Fairhart's face, the look of misery that played on every inch of it. Darvy cocked his head to the side slightly as he continued, all in the same innocent, almost careless tone.

"So many times she called out for you" he said casually. "And the look on her face when I performed the finishing blow...she just seemed so...disappointed. What a pity," he added, a false, wry smile forming on his lips, "she died...knowing that you never...truly...cared..."

He put particular emphasis on these last few words, and Albus watched with what he knew was a look of anguish as Fairhart stared ahead blankly, an abashed, pathetic look on his face, a single tear sliding down the side that was disfigured-

Darvy stood up swiftly, and with a single, powerful kick, he knocked Fairhart backwards, sending him tumbling through the Veil. Albus screamed in horror as his body vanished from sight, his yell covered by Darvy's uproarious laughter.