Disclaimer: See Chapter One

A/N: First I want to give a big thanks to all those who have reviewed this story, we hit over 4000 reviews after the last chapter and I have all you to thank! It's quite humbling to know so many people have taken an interest in my little story.

Ok, so this chapter has been written and re-written three times, hence the lateness of this chapter being posted. I struggled with how I wanted to present this part, would it be all out mayhem and destruction heavy on the action with little character development or interaction, or would it be getting you emotionally involved with the different factions and characters and consequences of their actions.

I went with the latter, and after many re-writes I hope I have been able to draw you in a little more to the personal and political consequences as the story continues to move the Eveningshade saga forward.

The chapter is shorter than I would have liked but the re-writes and editing has delayed this chapter long enough and I wanted to give you something. This chapter is part one of two chapters in this particular arc.

Thanks again and I hope you enjoy this latest chapter of Passageways!

Chapter 36

There was no sound, though he could see many contorted faces in the act of screaming…yelling…cursing…and praying, yet there was no sound coming from their open mouths. He realized that at some point he had lost the ability to hear. It was as if he were in the midst of a silent nightmare, a nightmare that he could not awaken from.

He forced a large lump down his throat and angrily tried to suppress the growing fear within his chest. He felt numb or was it cold, he was not sure. He began to wonder if he was not dead already and just existed now as some spectral witness to the carnage that lay before his eyes. And if he was dead, was this hell? Was this the penance he would have to pay throughout eternity for his crimes? To watch his brethren cut down? To smell the stench of eviscerated bowels spilt upon the white snow.

Was he to be an immortal, immobile observer to the destruction of everything? Would fate be so cruel? It had been a noble cause…hadn't it? Uniting the world under wizarding kind, to end humanities madness, to end their wars?

He had firsthand knowledge of muggle cruelties' and inhumanities. He had lived in the wizarding section of Berlin when the Russians and Americans attacked. Their bombs and their machines of war had decimated the city, including a large part of the magical community that had lain invisible to muggles for centuries. He had lost his wife and his four year old daughter in the air raids. The filthy barbarians destroyed without care or compassion.

It was in 1951 when he first heard the speech that would drive him for the next twenty years. A voice calling for the unification of wizards and witches everywhere a call to arms against the muggles, a man who spoke with a vision of a world safe from muggle ideas from muggle weapons and muggle wars, a world where the law of magic would rule absolute. It would be a world where muggles were controlled and pacified.

He had followed Gellert Grindelwald ever since. Grindelwald would lead them from the hidden shadows and into the light of day, and they would put down the muggle oppressors who forced wizard-born into hiding and fearing discovery.

He felt rather than heard the concussive blast that threw up snow, parts of splintered trees and rock into the air, bits of stone, earth, and wood fell upon him like a perverse version of rain. 'No' he thought. He was not dead; he was still alive at least in some fashion…for the moment. Another thud to his left had him turn his head in his prone position half buried in snow, to look at the vacant stare of young woman who had just fallen.

He did not recognize her, he was not sure which group she was with, not that it mattered now, he mused, death was the great equalizer, it did not care if you were good or bad, rich or poor...it eventually took everyone. He looked into the stilled blue eyes of the young woman lying next to him on the frozen ground; he supposed she had been quite beautiful, even with the few new lacerations to her face…she was striking. A few loose strands of brilliant red hair fluttered in the air, a petite upturned nose and an elegant face…such a waste, he mourned.

His attention was then drawn upward; he felt the familiar sizzle of spell fire close overhead. It was getting more difficult to get his eyes to focus now, not to mention the exhausting effort to turn his head. His eyes widen however at the spectacle that was happening within a quaffle's throw from where he lay.

Two gods were locked in mortal battle; the collage of colors was incredible as spell crashed against shield, and then returned. They circled each other like sharks, like predators searching for that one weakness that would allow them to deliver a killing blow.

He recognized them; one was of international acclaim the wizarding world over. However, his claim to fame was based on a fabrication. He was celebrated as the man who had killed his master. But that was far from the truth, a simplistic lie for a complicated reality.

The other was the upstart traitor who betrayed his master and sought to take his place if not his legacy and glory from him. Though he appeared more a monster than man now, there was no mistaking the irritating pompous voice of Tom Riddle.

He would have paid anything to see how this duel ended, but his eyes were growing dim, he knew his hold on mortality was quickly slipping away and he would join all those lost souls who found their end here…in this god forsaken place.

He searched the battlefield one more time to see if any of his comrades were still on their feet, but as his eyes traveled around he could not find any. He scrunched his face in confusion as he noticed the nearby tree line. Blurry silhouettes began to emerge, who were they? They did not seem to be fully corporeal, they were ghostlike.

Were these the heralds of death? Were they Valkyrie, here to guide the valiant dead to Valhalla? As his last rattling breath was escaping his body, one of them turned toward him, eyes blazing emerald green, everything seemed to suddenly stop and then…darkness.

oooOOOooo

She couldn't catch her breath, spells were coming too fast and too close. The very air was electrified with the number of spells flying in everything direction. 'Damn Dumbledore to hell.' She thought as she threw herself head first into a large shrub, as several spells impacted the spot she had just vacated.

Her respite was short lived however when the shrubs she had sought cover behind were set ablaze by an incendio spell. Scrambling quickly on hands and knees she sought new shelter only to have the ground beneath her stomach explode in a shower of frozen dirt and rock tossing her some twenty feet backwards, landing close to the tree line. Shrapnel cut into her face and head and blood began to flow free from the many cuts.

Her heart was beating so violently, she thought that it would soon explode from her chest. She struggled to take a breath; her lungs burned as she gasped in the frigid air around her. The sound of pounding feet startled her, she forced herself to belly crawl through the pain toward the cavity of an old fallen tree and shoved herself into the rotting bark.

She had no idea if it was friend or foe, and her survival instincts were screaming at her to hide and be quiet, so she lay motionless. In her moment of mortal uncertainty she was mentally cursing Albus Dumbledore, whose portkey had dropped them in the middle of a pitched battle between the Death Eaters and the Brown Cloaks.

What the fuck was going on! This was supposed to be a reconnaissance mission, to learn about the Death Eaters and the connection to the Purist Movement's leader, Lord Voldemort. What the hell were the Brown Cloaks doing here! Instead of a clandestine observation operation they found themselves caught in the middle of a fight between two factions intent on killing each other.

The foot falls faded and she debated whether to just stay where she was or peek out and see if any other Order members were close by. When they had suddenly appeared by portkey not twenty feet from an intense fire fight they were immediately beset upon by both sides. There had been eight of them when they arrived but two went down immediately from the killing curse.

Dumbledore had immediately thrown up a shield but the sheer amount of spells began to collapse it quickly. They had all made a run for whatever cover they could find. She had tried to apparate but there were apparently wards up keeping her from escaping.

Decision made to find her friends or at least Dumbledore and then get the hell out of here got her moving. Shimmying out from the hollow log she was in, and keeping her body close to the ground. She hoped that a smaller profile would hopefully keep her from being spotted by others.

She had only moved a few feet when the first spell clipped her shoulder at sent her spinning to the ground. The air was suddenly electrified with a rainbow of colored curses flew around her. She noticed a large unmoving body just twenty feet from her. It might give her a little protection, some cover against the oncoming spells.

She made a quick dash towards the fallen brown cloaked man, dodging this way and that, she was almost there when she noticed out of the corner of her eye a flare of powerful magic. She turned to see Dumbledore deflecting a rather nasty looking curse back at the caster. It was him…Voldemort. Bile rose in her throat at the sight of the animalistic looking leader of the purist movement.

She felt as if everything would be okay, Dumbledore would get them back to safety and she would be reunited with family and friends and forget this night ever happened. She grinned as she closed the last few remaining feet to the body that would give her enough protection until Dumbledore drove back the others.

She dove the last few feet, but her eyes widen and would remain that way as a sickly green light sped toward her striking her in the chest. She fell bonelessly to the ground, not even a foot away from her supposed protection. Her glowing blue eyes suddenly and violently dimmed forever.

oooOOOooo

The silence was deafening, Lords Greengrass, Longbottom, Davis, and Bones were gobsmacked as they stood in various position around the formal Head of House office of the Ossuary, the seat of House Bones.

"You can't be serious Dorea! The Eveningshades are extinct; their light was extinguished more than a century ago!" Bryn Davis exclaimed.

"I assure you that House Eveningshade lives, and has a powerful wizard as it Lord and Head. And of the greatest importance to us is that he has garnered the loyalty of the fringe and many gray leaning families."

"This is not a good omen, Charlus, you must see it. If true, we should distance ourselves from this not form an alliance with this lord. The Eveningshades were dangerous, though my family never had interactions with them, the stories I've heard about them are terrifying. They are not to be trusted." Evard Bones warned.

Arcturus Black stood and rolled his eyes at the lord of House Bones. "Grow a spine Evard, your grandfather…Merlin bless his soul… would be sorely disappointed at your paranoid rant! He would have looked at this situation logically and separated fact from fiction, and then acted in the best interest of not only his family but our world."

Arcturus then cast a challenging gaze upon the other three neutral lords. "House Eveningshade was powerful…very powerful." He said slowly, momentarily recalling the power he felt coming from Harry when he first met him. "But they keep their word, they are not oath breakers, but they hold those who enter agreement with them to their words also.

"Were they cunning? Yes.

"Were they crafty? Indeed they were.

"And were they dangerous? None deadlier." He nodded knowingly.

"But, they were also loyal to their family and to their allies; they were…are, neither light nor dark. Lord Eveningshade walks in the shadow and has already set in motion events that will change Wizarding Britain as we know it. And we are offering you a front row seat."

"And what is your role in this Arcturus? The House of Black has always been a dark house. Why this sudden change? There must be something in this for you. Some promised element for your support, more power perhaps in the minister's office?" Lord Longbottom suggested with suspicion.

"Perhaps you seek the position of Minister yourself! A dictatorship…where House Black controls all!" Caius Greengrass shouted. "Will you turn the Eveningshades on us?!"

Dorea interrupted before an all-out duel erupted between the posturing wizards, seeing her brother Arcturus's eyes narrow it was almost inevitable. "My lords! Can we please not get into a pissing contest while there is a lady in the room?!" She chided the increasingly blustering men.

"My apologies, Lady Potter." Lord Longbottom inclined his head in deference and Arcturus giving a tight nod toward his sister, Greengrass folding his arms against his chest in an angry childlike manner.

"Now then, as you can all plainly see in the Writ of Alliance, that no house will have power over another!" Her index finger tapping forcefully to the official parchment spread-out on the desk. We act as one body. Every perk, promise, and power meticulously outlined. We cannot act unilaterally; we must have a consensus of all our houses. Only together are we strong enough to effect the change we want."

"My Lady?" Lord Bones began. "What we are doing is tantamount to treason. If we fail, we could all find ourselves sharing a cell in Azakaban."

"Then we must not fail my lord. We will have a slight majority in the Hereditary Houses, and on the permanent council." Dorea stated firmly.

"I must disagree my lady." The Longbottom of Longbottoms interrupted. "There are twenty surviving houses that make up the permanent council. We are only six; we do not have a majority to bring about the change you want."

"There is one more neutral house that may agree to join us…The Edgecombes." Charlus stated.

"The Edgecombe's?! They follow where ever the strongest wind is blowing. Light…dark, it does not matter to them as long as there is no risk to them." Greengrass mocked.

"Even if we did persuade them, that still only makes seven, seven against Thirteen, Charlus. The light faction has eight, and though the dark houses only have five, now that the Blacks have shifted, we still can't seat a majority." Lord Bones indicated.

"That's where you would be wrong Evard." Dorea half smiled half smirked. "There are actually at this moment twenty-eight surviving 'Ancient and Noble' house of the permanent council."

"What nonsense Dorea, there have only been twenty for nearly a century. The others have gone extinct." Lord Longbottom chuckled softly.

"Just like the Eveningshades, my old friend." Charlus Potter began. "They have reemerged from the darkness and are ready to take up their seats once more."

"What insanity is this Charlus?! The other thirty lines are gone!" Lord Horace Longbottom insisted.

This time it was Arcturus who chuckled. "I once thought so to, Horace. But they survived through their squib descendants."

"Squibs are not allowed to have any seat in the Wizengamot!" Lord Davis shouted. "This is ridiculous!" He shouted again. "Was this your glorious plan? To bring in squibs to sit amongst us? What fools!" He chided.

"Hold your tounge Bryn Davis, or I shall remove it!" Dorea Potter nee-Black warned as she stood abruptly from her chair. Such was the power and awe that the older woman possessed that the Lord of House Davis stumbled back a few steps and paled as he fell back into his own chair.

"These are not some simpletons without magic! These are wizards who are heirs to Ancient and Noble Houses! And it is their right by all the laws we hold dear to claim their seats on this council! And you would do well to remember that Lord Davis, as THEY have already sworn allegiance to Lord Eveningshade and the Gray Council that we are inviting you to join.

"With them joining the Houses of Potter and Black, we will have a majority within the permanent council. AND with the inclusion of the Fringe families who will flood the halls of the ministry this next session, we will already be the dominant force in the Wizengamot!

"Now then, my lords!" Dorea glared at the other three neutral lords daring them to challenge her. "Shall we debate this further or have we come to an agreement that the Gray Coalition will include your Houses or will you fall to the wayside and let history pass your Houses by?"

Lord Bones stood and approached the desk; he grabbed a quill and dipped it twice into the inkwell. He placed quill to parchment and signed the Writ of Alliance, officially becoming a member of the Gray Alliance.

Lord Longbottom was next to sign, quickly followed by the Lord of House Greengrass. A humbled Lord Davis stood from his chair and approached the desk; he bowed respectfully to Dorea and signed his name to the parchment.

"Now that that has been settled, let us discuss the overthrow of the Ministry." Arcturus Black smiled gleefully reclining back in his chair his dark gray eyes sparkling with excitement for the things to come.

oooOOOooo

Karima Laylan was standing in the courtyard of Eveningshade Manor along with her fellow paladins waiting for the activation of a port-key that would take them and others to the Death Eater safe house, the location having been learned by Lady Potter during her interrogation of the captured Death Eaters.

Their assignment was to wipe them out…all of them. They were a threat to the clan and leaving them alone would mean a possibility of other Death Eaters or Voldemort himself discovering their location. They would also make it appear that Brown Cloaks had attacked the safe-house to throw off any who would investigate the attack. So they would use blades to slit the throats of the Death Eaters simulating a typical Brown Cloak strike.

Karima was born in Morocco; at nearly six feet tall and an Olympic athlete's body she made for an imposing woman, but her sharp facial features and flawless caramel colored skin along with her piercing green eyes also gave her an exotic beauty that left most men speechless.

However it was her skill as a Hit Witch and soldier that she prized most, second only to her love for her great-grandfather. Her great- grandfather was born an Eveningshade, and had only just turned eleven years old in 1810 when his world exploded around him. With very little formal training in magic his wand that he had only had for a short few weeks was useless to him during the great extermination.

Amidst the chaos of screams and sizzling spell fire, his mother had grabbed him and was running as fast as she could toward the tree line to hide. Tragically his mother was cut down by a blasting hex that severed her left femoral artery.

She frantically tried to cast a blood clotting spell on her leg to stop the flow of blood but her spell work was not fast enough to stem the flow of the life giving fluid. Karima remembered the story her great-grandfather had told her when she was just a child. How he screamed in horror as the light from his mother's eyes dimmed.

He had taken up his wand and though he did not know any spells or incantations tried to force his magic to heal his mother. After several failed attempts he collapsed onto his mother's unmoving chest and sobbed. His mourning was interrupted by a callous voice speaking directly behind him.

"No challenge here, just an Eveningshade brat, that won't live to see another day." The voice had said with dark amusement.

"Avada…"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" A new voice had yelled. He turned to see a woman with green eyes much like his mother's stepping over the body of the man who had just threatened him. She then lifted the young boy over her shoulder and quickly made to the trees.

Six months later Cillian Eveningshade would arrive in Morroco, a refuge from the shores of Great Britain with a few other survivors. He would later marry a beautiful Moorish witch and raise a family. He would often speak of his early life and about the once great clan of House Eveningshade and of course about the betrayal and annihilation of his clan.

Karima had always felt a strong connection to both sides of her family heritage. Her great-grandmother had been a powerful witch and whose magical lineage was as old as any. Karima carried a curved bejeweled Saracen knife at her waist, a gift and heirloom from her great-grandmother and her Moorish ancestor several generations back.

She also wore around her neck her great-grandfather's wand, miniaturized by a powerful shrinking charm; she kept it close to her heart so that she would always remember him. Remembering the man, who would tell her of Britain, and the Eveningshade history.

Karima had been twelve years old when her great-grandfather had passed away at an impressive 158 years old. Her earliest memories centered on him, they had formed an instant connection, he would entertain her with stories and demonstrations of what wandless magic he could do and she would giggle and laugh her green eyes sparkling and it would bring sunshine back into his heart.

He had told her shortly before he died that she possessed within her the strongest measure of Eveningshade magic that he had felt in any of his other children or grandchildren. He also told her that he had foreseen a day that House Eveningshade would raise again from the ashes, and that she would feel a pull on her magic directing her to return to Britain and that she should follow it.

And now here she was, chosen to be the personal bodyguard to the Lady Eveningshade. She knew her great-grandfather would be so proud of her, and she would finally be able to keep the promise she had made him on the day that he died. That House Eveningshade would be avenged and restored to its rightful place.

As her mistress joined the circle along with the lord of the clan and a few others, she smiled internally and touched the wand around her neck lovingly and then caressed the handle of her Saracen blade at her waist…it was time to go and face her destiny as an Eveningshade and Paladin of her house.

oooOOOooo