Author's Notes:

Standard Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. That you JKR for letting us play with your toys.

I will continue to use the occasional song lyric in the story and will give credit at the time when needed.

This is the fifth book in my Slytherin Harry series.

Book 1 Harry Potter and the Muggle's Daughter.

Book 2: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

Book 3: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Book 4: Harry Potter and the Blood Traitor's Daughter

Book 5: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

If you haven't read books 1-4 you won't know what's going on. But the bonus is you've got four completed books before you even get to this one!


HARRY POTTER AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

CHAPTER XXIX

The Terms are Met


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Lily Potter pushed the hood of her cloak back. Merlin's balls," Alastor Moody, the current Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and recalled auror, said.

Albus Dumbledore sat back in his chair. Despite his growing belief Lily was alive, having it confirmed still left him reeling. Add to it Amelia seemed utterly unfazed by the reveal and he was left to wonder just how much more he was unaware of. "I would like to know," Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones said, "how it is that a student, confined to hospital and asleep in his bed, was taken from this school?"

Before Albus or anyone else could respond a brilliant flash of white lit up Dumbledore's office forcing everyone to shield their eyes. When they turned back it was to see a bedraggled bird with dull red and gold feathers floating on slowly flapping wings. Even as they watched a feather dropped from the bird's tail and drifted to the floor, settling at Sirius' feet.

"Fawkes?" Dumbledore breathed. He slowly stood. "It is you," he said. A tear slid down his cheek. "I knew you would return… What has happened to you my friend?"

"The phoenix bears the wages of your sins, Albus Dumbledore," a new voice spoke. Lily, Sirius, Bill and Amelia sank to their knees.

"My Lady," Lily said.

"Who the hell are—"

The Goddess raised her hand. "You will be silent, Alastor Moody." He struggled to speak, and to move, but found he could do neither. She ignored him and focused on Dumbledore. He watched her warily. "You cannot flee, Albus Dumbledore. I offer you this one chance to confess your crimes before you leave this world." It was the barest movement, so small only a goddess or creature of equal stature would have caught it. The Goddess twitched her finger. Dumbledore's wand flew from his hand. It clattered across the floor coming to rest about six inches in front of Lily. "You have chosen poorly," the goddess said. Dumbledore raised his hand, trying to summon the wand. It spun towards him but remained where it was on the floor. A hum filled the air, growing more and more powerful till the air itself began to vibrate. The sound transferred into the stone of the castle and the whole room began to tremor. It went on for a minute and then two. The phoenix let out a painful cry. It had gone from floating three or four feet above the floor to barely keeping its feet from touching the ground.

"You're hurting him," Dumbledore cried.

"I am not," she answered. The phoenix shrieked and flashed forward. It slashed Dumbledore's hand with a razor sharp talon. The shaking of the room cut off abruptly as he staggered back. A burst of brilliant red flames erupted from the phoenix. "And now the one called Fawkes dies," the goddess said softly. A fine grey ash fell from the flames as the creature was consumed with unnatural speed. A howling gust of wind blew the window open, picked up the ash and carried it away. Dumbledore staggered forward a step before falling to his knees and then tipping over, sprawled, face down on the floor. "And Albus Dumbledore follows him," the goddess sighed.

She turned, briefly glancing at the four who remained on their knees before focusing on Alastor. "You may speak," she said.

He watched her with narrowed eyes. "Who are you?"

"I have known many names. You would be most familiar with that of Nimue. Though a lovely child recently gifted me with Kai; I am fond of it."

"You mean Nimue as in Lady of the Loch, Nimue?"

"Indeed."

He shot a glance at Dumbledore. "He's dead?"

"No man dies without sin. Sometimes, good men must do difficult things… And sometimes, good men become lost. They become convinced of their infallibility; they cannot see reason, they do not even realize their actions have become evil. Such happened to Albus Dumbledore. The phoenix is a creature purely of the light. It is incapable of evil. Many times did he attempt to guide his bond back to a righteous path. Ultimately going so far as to leave him. Even this though was not enough. Albus Dumbledore continued to fall further and further and as he did it poisoned his bondmate. Slowly but surely the actions of Albus Dumbledore were killing the phoenix. Tonight, with the kidnapping of Harry Potter—" Lily sucked in a breath. "—The phoenix was left no choice but to take his bond with him from this world."

"Albus delivered Harry to Voldemort?" Amelia breathed.

"Voldemort?" Moody blurted.

"Yes, and yes," the goddess answered. "The Dark Lord is risen from the dead."

"How?" Moody whispered.

"Why?" Lily asked.

"The how, Alastor, I shall leave to these four. I trust you will do what must be done. As to the why, I'm afraid I cannot answer that."

"Why the hell not?" Moody demanded.

"That is not for you to know."

"The hell kind of answer is—" She held her hand up, silencing him; literally. She focused on Lily. "The wand, it will not work for you." She glanced at the other three. "Any of you."

"What should I do with it?" Lily asked.

"That is for you to decide."

Lily studied her for a second but the goddess gave nothing away. "Would you have it?" Lily asked.

"Again, that is for you to decide."

Cautiously Lily reached for it. She held it for a second before holding it out to the goddess. "Take it."

"You are certain? It could aid you." Lily frowned.

"Lils," Sirius ventured cautiously, "if that's what I think it is…"

She glanced at him before shifting to Amelia. "If it truly is the Death Stick, it could end this before it even starts, Lily," the Minister said.

"Or it could kill Harry," Bill countered. Lily focused on him. "If it is, it's turned on everyone who's ever wielded it. Hell, it could be the reason Dumbledore ended the way he did."

Lily turned back to the goddess. "Take it."

The goddess closed her fingers around the wand, gently pulling it from Lily's hand. She opened her mouth but Lily spoke first. "My Lady?"

"Yes?"

"The cloak, is it the Hallows?"

The goddess smiled. "Perhaps."

"Would you have it?"

"Again, the choice is yours."

"Take it," Lily said. "Wherever it is right now, it is yours."

"Cousin," the goddess said. A terrible wind rose in the room, bringing deathly cold with it. Tendrils of black twisted and formed skeletal fingers wearing a ring that reached for the wand in Nimue's hand. "Ah," she warned. "Not so fast."

"The terms are met," a rasping voice that came from everywhere and nowhere and struck terror in the hearts of those present spoke. The already freezing air chilled further.

"A favor," the goddess said, "anything at all, to be given at a time of my choosing."

"Death cannot be changed."

"The end result no. But the nature, yes?"

"Agreed," the voice said.

"Very well then." She released her hold on the wand. "And might I suggest you keep better track of your possessions going forward, Cousin." The smoky fingers swirled, becoming an arm and then a torso and suddenly Death himself, standing well more than seven feet, draped in a familiar cloak, the wand dangling from a pocket and a great scythe in his hand loomed over the goddess. Nimue looked straight up into his hooded cowl. She shifted, somehow becoming more, making it difficult to even look on her. "Be gone, Dark Bringer, none yet here belong to you." He turned, focusing on Lily. Nimue moved between them. "Least of all her."

"All are mine, eventually," he rasped. His words were like stepping into a raging artic blizzard.

"But not today," Nimue answered. The wind swirled, blowing Death away in whirl of smoke.

The goddess diminished again, appearing more human. "You have chosen well, Lily Potter," she said, bringing warmth back to the room.

"Thank you," Lily croaked, but the goddess was already gone. Lily slumped to the floor. No one moved for some time till Sirius lurched to his feet, he stumbled to the liquor cabinet and grabbed the first bottle he could reach. Pulling the stopper he slugged back near a quarter of it. Blindly he handed the bottle to Moody. Moody took it and Sirius grabbed another bottle.

"Give me that," Amelia said, snatching it from him.

"Sorry." Sirius grabbed three more, passing one each to Bill and Lily before slumping to the floor with the third. "What just happened?"

"I'd kind of like to know that myself," Alastor muttered.

"What do we do now?" Bill asked. Amelia and Lily looked to each other. "We wanted him out of the school," Bill said, "Not dead."

Amelia frowned. She looked at Albus' body for a few moments before her eyes shifted to Alastor. "Alastor?"

"What?" he asked warily.

"Would you agree the only person who ever frightened Voldemort was Albus Dumbledore?"

"You know the answer to that as well as I do."

"So you would agree it is a bad thing he is dead?"

"Doesn't matter, cause he is."

"But he doesn't have to be," she countered.

"What?" he asked. The others all stared at her.

"That's brilliant," Lily eventually said.

"Oh no," Alastor said, cottoning on quick enough. "I don't give a damn if you are Minister."

"You're the only one who might be able to pull it off."

"No! Damnit, just no!"

"Yes. It has to be done."

"What has to be done?" Sirius asked.

"Polyjuice," Bill said.

"I said NO!"

"Yes," Lily and Amelia countered.

Sirius raised his bottle. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Headmaster. Good luck. You're gonna need it." He tipped the bottle back and slugged the remainder.

"No. I'm not doing it! Damn near went insane this year; little terrors running around everywhere."

"Alastor," Amelia said.

"Don't Alastor me, ya damned brat. I don't care if you are my goddaughter." She just smiled. "Fine!" he exploded. "But I'm not grading one goddamned essay and you better get me an administrator because I know piss all about running a school."

"Oh, we've got that covered already."

"Who," he demanded suspiciously.

"Minerva," Lily said. "She's already fully in and we'd tabbed her to replace Albus as it was."

Moody glowered at her. "Someone better start talking, and it better start with how in the fucking hell you're even alive!"


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The main courtroom of the Wizengamot was housed deep within the bowels of the Ministry of Magic. With an open floor some twenty meters in diameter surrounded by rising levels of first, seating and then, standing room for spectators, one might conjure the image of a theater in the round. Though it held a decidedly less friendly atmosphere than that venue. The floor played host to a number of sets. There was an imposing wooden chair draped with chains and manacles to restrain prisoners. There were two stone plinths. One supported a shallow stone basin carved with many runes; a pensive for placing the memories of defendants and witnesses. The second plinth was only about a foot in height, black as night and had a ceremonial dagger upon it. The Blood Rite Stone, where, should it be questioned, members of the Wizengamot proved their identity. Also on the floor was a raised platform. It hosted two seats; that of the Minister of Magic and that of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Amelia Bones was sat in the Minister's seat. Albus Dumbledore held the title of Chief Warlock. Alastor Moody, under polyjuice, was sat in his seat. The Chief Warlock usually only voted when need of a tiebreaker arose; a situation that, thankfully, very rarely occurred. Alastor could sit there all day impersonating the man without raising a single red flag, but the moment he was called on to vote, well, the gig would be up. Dumbledore would be retiring his position as Chief Warlock today. Citing the need his energies be spent ensuring the school remained safe from Voldemort's forces he would retreat to Hogwarts and the fact the only wizard Voldemort ever feared was dead would remain secret… As long as they made it through today that is. Amelia forced her misgivings aside. For the time being they needed Dumbledore alive. There was nothing for it but to forge ahead.

Up a second step from the seats of the Minister and Chief Warlock was the Sacred Ring, or the Sacred Twenty-eight. Britain's oldest and most powerful, the twenty-eight families that had either founded or most contributed to the formation of England's Magical Government. Only two, that of the Carrows and the Parkinsons were not original to the ring. By service and or bribe, they had ascended from the nobility when the lines of Gladstone and Winthrop had died out. Only one seat of the twenty-eight was empty, that belonging to the Gaunt family. Unbelievably, the seat rightly belonged to Tom Riddle, and there was nothing to stop him taking it… For the moment anyway. That was another thing Amelia intended to rectify today.

Behind the families of the Sacred Twenty-eight were those of the nobility; families like Potter, Patil, Jordan, Dumbledore and even her own sat in the next two rows up; though with her in the Minister's chair, the family seat was filled by a proxy till such time as Susan was old enough to take it up herself. And with Alastor in the Chief Warlock's seat, impersonating Albus, Dumbledore's seat in the gallery remained empty. His brother, Aberforth couldn't be bothered and there hadn't been time to find an acceptable proxy. Alastor's seat was taken by Charlie, polyjuiced as Alastor. It was a slippery game she was playing, she knew. But, just like with Alastor impersonating Albus, there was nothing for it but full steam ahead. If they could just get through today…

The five rows behind the nobility of the Wizarding World were business and community leaders. Families that were beginning to make a mark on wizarding society but had not yet managed, by merit or bribe, to find themselves elevated to the nobility. They held voting privileges on the Wizengamot, but not speaking. Behind them were ordinary citizens vying to become members of the Wizengamot. A small seating area on the main floor, with room for ten was home to members of the press. Aurors ringed the room.

Dumbledore banged a gavel on his desk. The gathered crowd of witches and wizards fell silent and took their seats. "Let the record show the date as 29th May 1995," Dumbledore spoke.

"The date is recorded," Amelia said.

"Very well, Minister, the floor is yours."

Amelia rose from her seat and moved to stand in the middle of the floor. She took a second to compose herself before beginning. "Witches and Wizards, Lords, Ladies, those of the Sacred Twenty-eight, it is with dire news I address you today. I am not certain how to even begin so I will simply state the facts as I know them to be. Last night, at approximately 2:00 am, Headmaster Igor Karkaroff of Durmstrang Academy, with the help of escaped convict Peter Pettigrew, abducted Lord Harry Potter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The gallery shifted and a rush of furious whispers swept the assembly. She held her hand up for silence. "At approximately 3:00 am, dark detectors within the Department of Mysteries registered an event on an order of magnitude more than ten thousand times the power of the Death Curse. At approximately 3:30 am, we were able to pinpoint the location of Lord Potter and the Dark event and determine them to be the same. Aurors very quickly were sent to investigate and, if possible, rescue Lord Potter. There they found a scene I had hoped would never again curse our great nation.

"Death Eaters, those same witches and wizards who were followers of the Dark Lord Voldemort—" she ignored the gasps and mutterings of the assembly, "— had gathered; some twenty strong. As distressing as this sounds, I fear I have much worse news to impart. I do not know how, but head auror Kingsley Shacklebolt swears Lord Voldemort himself had gathered these followers to him. His account is corroborated by that of forty others who joined him." Disbelieving silence gave way to bedlam. She let it go for about a minute before nodding to Alastor.

"SILENCE!" he thundered, pushing as much magic as he possibly could into his voice. It wasn't Dumbledore, but it was more than enough to get people's attention. "Everyone will sit down," Dumbledore said, once again projecting his magic outward. "And we shall hear what else Minister Bones has to say." People slowly retook their seats. "Minister, if you would continue."

Amelia took a breath. "Trust me, my friends, I was no less disturbed to hear these reports than you are now. I was loath to even believe them to be true till I was given incontrovertible proof. Proof that I shall present to you all now." She turned. "Bring her in." The door opened and Kingsley and Tonks, flanking a figure wearing the robes of an unspeakable entered. The two aurors led the figure to the center of the chamber. A rush of whispers swept the assembly.

The woman spoke without removing her hood. "It is no secret Nicholas Flamel created a Philosopher's Stone. We know he found a way to achieve immortality. Where there is one method, logic dictates another exists. It is also no secret the Dark Lord sought immortality. Thirteen years ago I was an unspeakable; tasked with determining if the Dark Lord had found a method of achieving his goal and if he had, how it might be countered. I simply accepted the idea the Dark Lord had succeeded and went about determining a method to counter his efforts; no matter what those efforts were. I determined, if a sorcerer could tie their soul to that of the Dark Lord and then be killed by the Dark Lord's hand, whatever protections he had created would be weakened enough that the sorcerer could pull the Dark Lord out of this world with them.

"Of course there was no method by which I could test my work. Regardless, I determined the cost to be worth my son having the chance to grow up in a world free of that monster and determined to attempt it. I did so freely, of my own will… and in secret. Regretfully, my calculations were off. I did tie my soul to that of the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did then kill me. But instead of dragging him into death with me, his protections instead held my soul in this world. To my horror, I then watched, helpless to stop him killing my son. But then, something unexpected happened. With my soul attached to his, the Dark Lord was unable to kill him. The spell rebounded and struck the Dark Lord instead. His soul was expelled from his body. My battle to drag him into the afterlife was renewed. Ultimately, though, I have failed. After many years his spirit slipped away from me. He was able to gather a small number of his followers and with their help tonight, he is reborn… and I, along with him." Silence held the assembly.

"My Lady," Dumbledore eventually spoke, "with the authority of Chief Warlock, I command you remove your hood and give us your name."

"With the authority of the office of the Minister of Magic, I second the command."

Algie Croaker stood. "As director of the unspeakables, I concur with the Chief Warlock and the Minister."

The woman reached up and pushed her hood back. "My name is Lady Lily Evans Potter."

Silence.

It held till Lady Zabini stood. Every eye in the chamber focused on her. "Prove it."

Every head turned back to Lily. She moved to the plinth where the dagger lay. She picked it up, holding her free hand aloft and open for all to see she raised the dagger and closed her hand around the blade. Swiftly, she pulled the dagger free and dropped it. It clattered to the floor perfectly clean without a drop of blood to mar the shining silver blade. Squeezing her hand in a tight fist Lily held it high, letting blood run down her arm and drip on the plinth. Each drop landed with a heavy splat and was instantly absorbed into the stone. Nothing happened for a few seconds but then the stone began to glow a golden hue. It grew brighter, forcing the assembly to squint before fading away.

Dumbledore spoke. "Lady Potter, the magic of our land accepts your blood. Your seat awaits you. And may I say how very pleased I am to see you."

Lily inclined her head. "Chief Warlock." She faced Lady Zabini. "I thank you for the opportunity to prove myself."

Lady Zabini gave away nothing. "What I do, I do not for you, but for our great nation." She turned away from Lily and addressed the assembly. "Though I cannot dispute Lady Potter lives, I do not know that I believe her account." She turned back and focused on Minister Bones. "Even if I did, her standing before us is not proof that the Dark Lord lives, Minister. It concerns me greatly you would stage something like this. Something that is clearly meant to strike fear in the hearts of our Muggle-born and half-blood brethren as you rally support for your continued unnecessary build up of the auror force."

"Lady Potter's account is but one of forty, Lady Zabini," Amelia answered. "Forty aurors saw the Dark Lord. Forty aurors saw his followers. They engaged him in battle. They engaged his followers in battle. You will discount their testimony as well?"

Lord Selwyn stood. "It is suspect," he said. "We must accept one unbelievable event tonight; the proof stands before us. I will not even discount the aurors saw someone, that they fought someone… But the Dark Lord? How do we know it wasn't simply someone with delusions of grandeur?"

"How indeed, Lord Selwyn," Amelia pounced. She turned. "Bring him in."

The doors opened and two aurors dragged a body in. They roughly dumped him in the prisoner's chair. Of their own accord, the chains wrapped around his chest and the manacles closed over his wrists and ankles. Tonks grabbed his hair and lifted his head from his chest so that Kingsley could strap it in place. A silver collar around his neck prevented him assuming his animagus form.

"Witches and Wizards," Amelia said, "I give you Peter Pettigrew, captured tonight in the battle between forces of the Ministry, the criminal Lord Voldemort and his followers the Death Eaters. The Veritaserum," she said. Tonks forced his mouth open and Kingsley placed four drops of the clear liquid on his tongue. "Wake him." The auror backed up and pointed his wand at Pettigrew. He twitched and jerked and whimpered, but barely moved.

"Peter Pettigrew," the minister spoke.

He jerked slightly and slurred, "No, please."

"Your name is Peter Pettigrew?"

"Yessh."

"The prisoner has identified himself as Peter Pettigrew. The man is a convicted criminal and follower of the Dark Lord Voldemort. He is an escaped prisoner of Azkaban and carries a sentence of death upon capture. We will know everything he does before this sentence is carried out." She drew her wand and moved beside him. Placing her wand at his temple, she asked, "What happened in the graveyard tonight?" Pettigrew moaned but with the Veritaserum in his veins he had no choice but to immediately think of the truthful answer to her question. She pulled her wand away, eliciting a scream from the man as she withdrew a long silvery strand from his mind. "You need not answer," she said. "We will see for ourselves." As much as the restraints allowed, Pettigrew slumped in his chair, a slobbering, whimpering mess. Amelia moved to the plinth that held the pensive and deposited the memory. Before stirring it with her wand she said, "Lady Potter, I warn you, it is not for the faint of heart."

"I have survived much depravity over the last many years. I know that my son still lives. I will survive this as well."

Twenty minutes later, just before Harry killed Lucius, the scene folded in and returned to the pensive basin. No one said a word while Amelia calmly siphoned the memory out of the pensive and placed it in a phial. She ignored the ghostly white visage of Narcissa and the others whose relatives had been named during the viewing. Focusing on Peter she spoke quietly. "Peter Pettigrew, is this what happened tonight?"

"It is," he answered brokenly.

"Lord Voldemort is alive?"

"He is."

"And you are his servant?"

"I am."

"Take him away."


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THE DARK LORD LIVES

Minister of Magic Amelia Bones declared yesterday, after years of rumors, that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was indeed not dead and had returned to England to once again wreck havoc on our nation.

LILY POTTER LIVES, PRACTICED SOUL MAGIC

Lady Lily Evans Potter was revealed, yesterday, as being alive and well and having served in the ranks of the unspeakables for the Ministry of Magic. She claimed to have practiced soul magic against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that cast them both into a spirit realm for thirteen years before being returned to her body on the same night as the Dark Lord.

HARRY POTTER REMAINS IN COMA

Harry Potter remains in coma at Hogwarts after having been kidnapped from the school and used in the Resurrection Ritual that restored He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to his body.


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David Granger was the last to leave the pensive. He reached for the back of a chair and blew out a slow breath, steadying himself. Malala's hand curled around his, gripping firmly. He pulled her into his side and held her tightly with an arm around her shoulders. The other occupants of the room remained silent.

"I'm sorry," Lily whispered. The others focused on her. "I never meant…" She stopped, choking on her words. "I'm sorry for what I've done to your children," she said and ran from the room.

Andromeda caught her as she went past. "Stop right there," she commanded.

"Please, just let me go."

"I will not." She pushed Lily back and held her by the shoulders. "Look at me."

"Andi, please."

"Look – At – Me." Lily refused so Andromeda took the other woman's chin in her hands and forced her eyes up. "We all chose this. There is not one person here who did not know just who and what Voldemort was. We all chose it anyway. We chose it because we lived the horror the last time and we were damn well going to do everything we could to prevent it this time."

"Not David and Mali," Lily whispered.

David moved to Lily and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I may not have known this war, but I do know war. I may have hoped things would not come to this, but my eyes have been open from the start, Lily."

Mali reached for Lily. Pulling her gently away from Andi she held her by the shoulders as well. "We thought Hermione was possessed, Lily. You and Remus and Harry, you saved her life." She paused for a second. "I thank the goddess for Harry every single day," she said. Lily said nothing. Mali shook her. "Do you hear me, Lily Potter?"

Lady Longbottom spoke up. "Andromeda is correct, I might wish things were different, but my eyes were open from the beginning. I have no regrets in Neville's friendship with Harry, nor do I have any in ours."

"Anders always suspected the Dark Lord would return," Lady Greengrass said. "Our plans were to flee. And then Daphne met your son. And we met you… And we had hope."

"There really was no choice, Lily," Anders spoke. "Should the Order fail, fleeing only delays the inevitable. We may fail to save ourselves. We may even fail to save our children. But we will save someone, and in that, we win." Tears in her eyes Lily found nothing but reassurance in the eyes of her friends.

"Xeno," Lady Longbottom said.

"Yes?" he asked distractedly.

"Do you have anything to say?"

"Oh. No. Luna is exactly where she needs to be. I'm quite certain of it."

"Very good then," Lady Longbottom said. "If you will kindly rejoin us, Lily, we shall decide how to proceed."


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DUMBLEDORE RESIGNS AS CHIEF WARLOCK

Citing the need to ensure the safety of Hogwarts and our children Albus Dumbledore resigned as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He remains the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Warlocks.

LUCIUS MALFOY DEAD; A DEATH EATER?

It has been confirmed that the body of Lord Lucius Malfoy was found at the graveyard where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named summoned his Death Eaters after he was returned to life from the spirit realm. It is unclear exactly when Lord Malfoy was killed, but it appears he was killed when he joined the Dark Lord's followers in attacking the aurors sent to investigate.


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Daphne sat quietly in the Slytherin common room, watching with a wary eye towards Draco's little clique of sycophants. Once again, with Harry and Ginny back in Hospital, she was on her own. She was still friendly with Shishong, Elenydd, Daemon and Gavin, but the loss of her two friends had driven home just how much she was no longer friends with the others. They simply did not have the same concerns and while she was welcomed to sit and study with them, she was not really part of the group. She could also count on the quidditch team and younger years to be mostly friendly faces and warn her if she missed trouble brewing, but she hadn't really realized how isolated it left her without Harry and Ginny till they hadn't been there.

She missed them both of course. But being without Ginny had been like losing her right hand. The first two weeks Ginny had been in hospital after the second task she'd barely slept at all. Perhaps becoming dependent on sharing a bed had not been such a good idea. Even now, some two months later, she dreaded going to sleep.

For one, even in the week Ginny had been free of hospital, they hadn't returned to sharing a bed. Ginny knew they had been sleeping in the same bed for the better part of a year, but their friendship was no longer the same. There was just a stiffness between them Daphne didn't know how to bridge. She was trying. Ginny was trying too, she knew. But there was an intimacy – if that was the right word – that had been lost. And how couldn't there be? Things might not have changed for her; but for Ginny, all the things that had built their friendship were gone.

The missing intimacy was just one way Daphne was realizing this Ginny was different than the girl who had been her best friend. It had taken a while to put her finger on it, but Ginny now was a bit like Ginny before her second year and the diary. Everything that had turned her into the fiercest witch in the school was still there. It just hadn't been triggered yet. This Ginny knew what had happened; but she hadn't lived it, and she was softer for it.

Daphne wasn't certain if Harry had noticed and it concerned her. There was no room for soft in any girl who was going to be with Harry. His life simply wouldn't allow it. For one, soft would get her killed. For two, any girl who was going to be with Harry needed to be as intense as he was. She needed to know who she was. Not that this Ginny didn't, or couldn't, but she needed to have her own merits. The old Ginny had known that. It was the biggest reason it had taken so long for her to accept Harry loving her. This Ginny, Daphne wasn't so sure she wasn't just trying to be who she had been instead of who she actually was.


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DARK MARK OR NORTHERN LIGHTS?

Reports of the mark of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, known as the Dark Mark, appearing in the skies over the Isle of Skye in Scotland may have been nothing more than a rather spectacular display of the Aurora Borealis.


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Hermione settled in her bed and tried not to think about Harry, unconscious in hospital. They'd just, sort of, gotten Ginny back when Harry had been taken and used in the Resurrection Ritual. She bit down on her lip, drawing blood. The Order had finally conceded to her and her friend's demands to see the memory that had been taken from Peter Pettigrew. It wasn't like any of them really had much innocence left. They needed to know. They needed to be stronger. They were part of this war. The fight was coming for them all.

The Order had given in.

They were sick. Depraved. Never mind a child, who could do that to anyone? Ginny, Nimue she had been a horrid bitch to the girl. Harry had suffered one night; an hour at the hands of Voldemort. Ginny had suffered nearly a year. Hermione had known that. She had been told countless times just what Ginny had suffered. But it had seemed so abstract to her. Seeing what had happened to Harry, for really the first time, had made Ginny's suffering real to her. It now had a face that had been lacking.

Even worse than how she had been to Ginny though, was realizing she never really understood what Harry's life had been before he'd run away with Remus. The evil had just been stories to her. Hermione knew it had been real and that it affected Harry, but she'd never been able to actually fathom it. What had happened in the graveyard, horrifying as it was, in fact, was nothing more than the next scar in the story of Harry's life. Probably, he wouldn't even register it as the worst thing to have happened to him. After all, Voldemort was his enemy; he was supposed to hurt Harry. His aunt and uncle, they were supposed to have cared.

She sniffed and wiped her cheeks. She finally, truly understood, accepted why Harry had refused to give up on Ginny. He'd lived her life. She simply hadn't listened to him. Even after the breakthrough in her relationship with Ginny the night of the Yule Ball Hermione hadn't fully believed Ginny wouldn't turn on Harry again. And now, once more, Harry was in hospital. He was in coma again and was showing no signs of waking. Hermione curled on her side and silently cried. She just wanted to go home.


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LADY POTTER PLEDGES 10 MILLION GALLEONS

Lady Lily Evans Potter pledged five million galleons to support the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She pledged a further five million galleons to help families in need pay for their homes and businesses to be warded. Lords Black, Greengrass and Lady Augusta Longbottom pledged five million to each fund as well.

LORD PATIL ADDS TO FUND

Lord Patil added one million galleons to the ward fund for at need families today. Lady Potter also announced the fund would henceforth be known as the Parvati Patil Memorial Fund in remembrance of the Patil family's daughter, Parvati, who was killed in a tragic accident last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when dementors stationed at the school broke free of handlers and kissed her.


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Luna lay in her bed staring at the canopy. She was quite worried about a number of things. Obviously, Harry was her biggest concern. But Ginevra was a big concern as well. She'd really worried about Daphne alone in Slytherin with Harry and Ginny in hospital so much. Slytherin truly was a snake pit. She was heartily grateful Neville had become such a good friend to them. She didn't have to worry so much about Hermione being alone in Gryffindor. She really had expected Ginevra would recover her memories by now. It was a good thing Daphne was such a master of politics within her house. She seemed to have managed the time without Harry and Ginevra just fine. Maybe she hadn't needed to worry over her. She was quite jealous of the two of them, Ginevra and Daphne. They had someone to sleep next to. Though she'd much rather sleep next to Hermione than either of them. She really hoped Harry wouldn't be in coma for very long. What had happened to him was just horrible. She shuddered. Nope, she didn't want to think about that at all. She was rather worried about Ginevra recovering her memories. It had been near three months now. Ginevra was different now than she was before. It was subtle, but it was there. There was something going on with her girlfriend and Luna wasn't exactly sure what it was yet. She very much hoped Hermione wasn't going to pull one of her stupid – I can't be gay – stunts right about now, it might just break her. She shuddered again. Nope, didn't want to think about that either. The longer Ginevra went without her past, the more her current self diverged. What would happen if she suddenly remembered? How would they merge? She rolled to her side. Nope, didn't want to think about that either. Hermione had seemed upset about something with Harry and Ginevra. By the goddess she better not go down that road again! She might have to hold her girlfriend down and sit on her or something if she did, and that presented a problem in that Hermione was far stronger and a much better Judoka than she was. She might have to enlist Neville to help her. Ronald was behaving in a rather civilized manner. She sat straight up in her bed. By the goddess where had that come from? Civilized and Ronald simply didn't belong in the same sentence. It was like… like a sure sign of the apocalypse. She flopped back in her bed. "Please, Harry," she whispered, "just wake up."


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PETER PETTIGREW EXECUTED

The Ministry, yesterday, set a hard line when it went ahead with the execution of Azkaban escapee and confessed Death Eater, Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew was sent through the Death Veil at the Ministry at 12:01 am this morning

WHERE IS THE DARK LORD?

With the Ministry claiming He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is alive and has returned to English shores, the question remains, where is he and what are his intentions?

WILL THERE BE WAR?

Under the leadership of Minister Amelia Bones, the Ministry of Magic looks very much like they are preparing for war.


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Neville climbed the stairs to the clock tower. Picking the east window he climbed up on the ledge. Far below was the roof of the entry hall. Forcing his fear aside he heaved himself up in the frame and sat with his back to the wall and a leg hanging out the opening. He really hoped none of his friends were watching their maps right now. If they were, it might be a good idea to just jump; they wouldn't be pleased he'd snuck out alone. A breeze blew up, causing him to grab at the frame tightly. Bloody hell, how did Harry and Ginny do this? The two of them would sit up here, Harry with his head tipped back and eyes closed, arms wrapped around Ginny. She would have her head back on his chest and her eyes would be closed as well. It was like they were cats or something, totally unconcerned they could fall. He frowned. Maybe on some level they were; cats that is. They might have chosen the wolf, but they could have chosen to be panthers. Gritting his teeth he let go, tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Ten seconds was all he could manage. He just couldn't put aside the thought that one little twitch would send him plummeting down. Carefully he climbed back down and made his way up a flight to the north balcony. Sitting down with his back to the wall and stone balusters preventing a fall was much better. He wasn't Harry. He didn't have to do the things Harry did to be brave. He had gone into the Chamber after all. He may not have rescued Astoria or done any of the things Harry had during the tournament, but he had saved Harry, Ginny and Professor McGonagall when he jammed the diary down on one of the basilisk's fangs. He had killed a piece of Voldemort's soul. And he had rescued Astoria. He had been the one to keep his head during the attack that had seen Marcus and his mother killed. He had got Luna and Hermione on a broom and out of the box. He had been the one to fly Astoria out of the box. Any time his friends had needed him and he'd been there, he'd come through. He just wished he felt like he'd been there more often.


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PROACTIVE BONES SEEKS ASSURANCES

Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones met with representatives of the Canadian and American governments, seeking to reaffirm their support should war with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named break out.

NERVOUS PUBLIC GOES ABOUT ITS BUSINESS

With reports of the Dark Mark in the sky over the Isle of Skye, Diagon Alley remained busy with cautious shoppers hurrying about their errands. Shoppe keepers described patrons as calm but wary. Sales of healing potions and warding talismans were particularly strong.


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Bill eased the door open and quietly closed it behind him. The light from the moon was enough to see by and he carefully made his way around the bed. Leaving his robes, trousers and shirt in a pile on the floor he grabbed his lounge pants from the chair and pulled them on. Easing the covers back he slid in the bed. Lily rolled to him. "Hey."

He kissed her crown. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

She pushed him to his back and lay with her head on his shoulder. "Missed you."

"Missed you too." He absently rubbed his thumb on her shoulder. "Lily?"

"Yes?"

"You're going to marry me, right?"

"Well, we should probably tell Ginny we're dating before dropping that on her, yes?"

"I know. I was just making sure."

She pushed up, resting her chin on her hand on his chest. "I'd marry you tonight, Bill."

He looked down at her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she answered. Bill stretched for his bedside table. Pulling the drawer open he extracted a small black box. He set it on his chest a few inches in front of her nose. She eyed the box for a second before locking eyes with him again. "Really?"

"I love you, Lily Potter. For however long we both have, I want to be your husband. Please, marry me." Lily pushed up and moved to straddle his hips. She held her hand out to him. Bill took the box, opened it and plucked the ring from it. Reaching for her hand he slid the ring on her finger.

"Yes, William, Arthur Weasley, I will marry you." She wove the fingers of both hands into his and leaned down to kiss him.


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STATE OF EMERGENCY?

Minister of Magic Amelia Bones declined to answer, yesterday, when questioned about a State of Emergency or possible curfew for the public.

AUROR PATROLS RAID KNOCKTURN ALLEY

Aurors entered Knockturn Alley in force yesterday, raiding an apothecary and Borgin and Burkes. No arrests were reported; but aurors spent at least four hours searching each property and interviewing employees.


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Amelia Bones sat in her study swirling a glass of dark amber liquid while staring into the fire. The last few days had been, well, they hadn't been good. Though they hadn't been bad either. Well, of course they'd been bad, but things could have been far worse. Some six years of planning, manipulating and clandestine effort had mostly paid off. Of course more time would have been nice, but no matter how much time she'd had, in the end, she would have wanted more. She'd cleaned house in the aurors, hit wizards, and unspeakables, forcing out those who would be problems and those she couldn't she had a close eye on. Director Croaker was no longer under the Imperious Curse and with his controller, Lucius Malfoy, dead they need not fear that situation any longer. A slew of laws and measures were up for votes in the next week and it would place the ministry in a much stronger position than the last war. She had funding for another hundred aurors and Rufus was in the process of recalling those who wished to take up their wands again. He had also developed a program that could turn green recruits into able fighters in as little as six months. They'd be missing a good bit of what one needed to be a fully qualified auror, but right now she needed soldiers. You made sacrifices where you had to. Teamed with fully qualified aurors they'd be effective enough in the battles to come. She also had commitment for the loan of up to a hundred aurors from each of the Canadian and American Ministries. With that in reserve and her own aurors, hit wizards and unspeakables she had a force of just under a thousand at her disposal; giving her some two hundred more than Bagnold had had. At the height of the last war with Voldemort it was estimated he had some two thousand followers. Of those, only about two hundred were thought to have been worth much of anything. The rest had been cannon fodder. Unlike Bagnold the last time around, she didn't intend to play nice in the sandbox. She was going to fight fire with fire. The cost of joining Voldemort was going to be met with swift, hard and, in many cases, final repercussions. More than that, she was going to give face to the monster and expose him for what he was. Hopefully denying him the weapon of abject terror he'd wielded so effectively before.


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DARK LORD REVEALED

The question of just who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is and where he came from was answered yesterday when Minister of Magic Amelia Bones revealed the Dark Lord as being former Hogwarts Head Boy, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Out of sympathy to our readers sensibilities, The Prophet generally refrains from using the Dark Lord's chosen moniker of Lord Voldemort, but apparently the former Head Boy fashioned his new name by rearranging the letters of his given name to spell out, I AM LORD VOLDEMORT. At the request of the Ministry of Magic, the Prophet will henceforth desist with the use of the moniker He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and refer to the tyrant as the Dark Lord and or Tom Riddle.

HEIR OF SLYTHERIN?

The Prophet can confirm that Tom Riddle, the self proclaimed Dark Lord and proponent of the supremacy of so-called pure blood is indeed, himself, a half-blood, born the son of Merope Gaunt and a minor Muggle lord, Tom Riddle. The name of Merope's mother is unknown so there is some question as to if she was truly the daughter of Marvolo Gaunt; though he did register her birth and claim her as his daughter with the Ministry of Magic. Some will recognize the name Gaunt as being of the Sacred Twenty-eight, though no one has claimed the title for over fifty years. The line was thought to have ended with the death of Marvolo and his two children some fifty years ago. Ministry records indicate the Gaunt Line as tracing directly back to that of Salazar Slytherin. This, if Merope truly was the daughter of Marvolo, makes Tom Marvolo Riddle the last surviving descendant of Salazar Slytherin.


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Ginny slid out from between the curtains surrounding her bed and padded silently over to Harry's. He didn't move when she crawled in with him, but she hadn't expected him to. Like a bludger to the head, everything had come back that night.

She was pretty sure it happened the exact moment Harry had blown Lucius Malfoy's spine out his back. Concern for Harry had actually delayed her realizing everything was back for almost an hour after she'd woken to find she was in hospital again. She'd then kept silent for fear she'd be released and not be able to be near Harry. As the days spent sitting beside his bed wore on, memories of Harry, not quite managing to hide the pain of her not remembering him, seared her newly whole mind like caged lightening. Maybe it wasn't right, or fair, but she had determined, no matter how long it took, Harry would be the first to know she was whole again. It had been a week now. It was actually the day the third task was supposed to take place. Andi and the matron both said Harry's body was healing and that he would fully recover. It was his mind that was hurt and that he would wake when he was ready. Ginny was pretty sure they were wrong about that. Harry wasn't going to wake unless someone woke him… More specifically, he wasn't going to wake unless she woke him.

Ginny climbed onto the bed and curled into him, her head on his chest she reached for his hand. Pulling it to her lips she softly kissed his fingers. "I'm coming, Harry," she whispered. And if she couldn't bring him back… well, then, she'd stay there with him.


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"Crucio!" Voldemort shrieked. Avery dropped to the floor; writhing in agony his blood-curdling scream filled the chamber. A few of the two dozen or so Death Eaters in the room twitched, stopping themselves from drawing their wands or going to the man's aid. In less than the blink of an eye Voldemort wandlessly banished one of them into the wall. The second man then collapsed under a wandless Crucio. Voldemort continued to hold both men under the spell at the same time. Nagini slithered over to the man her master had thrown into the wall. "Do not kill him," Voldemort hissed. Instead of biting him, Nagini wrapped her powerful body around his neck and squeezed. Barely conscious already, the man passed out in seconds. Voldemort continued to hold the two men under the curse for near a full minute before releasing them. He stood in silence while the two lay on their backs panting, tremors still randomly shooting through their limbs. No one else moved. Though their elevated breathing told him everything he needed to know. Near two minutes had passed before he quietly hissed, "If you are not on your feet in one minute, you are dead." The two didn't move for a few seconds, gathering themselves before rolling to their stomachs and then slowly pushing to their knees before standing. Voldemort regarded them with disdain before glancing at the lone man who remained unconscious on the floor. "Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty… Nagini."

The serpent struck, three times in less than a second, embedding her fangs in the man's neck. He jerked and his eyes flew open. Screaming his hand went to his neck. Nearly as quick as he woke, his scream tapered off as his throat swelled shut, cutting off his ability to breath. Voldemort watched dispassionately while the man's face turned purple. Even though his body continued to twitch he passed out again. In less than a minute he stilled. "Does anyone else question my blood?" Voldemort hissed.

"No, My Lord," his servants answered as one.


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Author's notes:

Not to seem to pleased with myself, but I'm willing to bet no one saw this coming.