Dear Readers,

I am truly sorry for the delay. The job has been quite exacting, and I cannot quite find the time for writing I used to during college. Thank you for your patience thus far! I hope you grace me with your readership for many more chapters to come.

Sincerely,

Karldin.

CHAPTER 36

He was tired.

Harry never had realized how exacting it was to fight in a battle of this magnitude, facing more than a hundred Red Court Vampires in such chaos. He had had to take care not to hit friends or innocents, while casting finer spells of power enough to kill Vampires as fast and strong as the Reds…all the while using Sharingan only passively. Only the enormous lifeforce he had inherited from Neville, and his own strong magic held him upright and able to walk. The cries of despair, agony, and loss emitted even now by the bereaved villagers were not doing any wonders for his energy as he walked by them listlessly.

He waved his hand absently, conjuring a comfortable chair in front of him with little effort. Atleast my facility with conjuration and animation is increasing, Harry sighed to himself as he sat, watching the aftermath of their fight with the Red Court Vampires. The little village was no more; the fight had been far too fierce for a collection of shacks to stand after. The people remained, some of them. Their dead were far too grotesquely maimed to look at, drained of blood or torn asunder by the horrific strength of the Red Court Vampires. They were being buried nonetheless with in a grimly resigned manner, as if the Villagers expected to be next themselves.

"We lost six of our own."

Harry turned to see Susan covered in the gore of the Reds, her tight leather jacket appearing red rather than its original brown. "I'm sorry", he replied, not knowing what else to say. His Sharingan easily deduced an approximation of her mental state from her bodily reactions…she was shaken, more so than he had ever seen her be. "Were they close friends of yours?", he enquired further, curious to know more about this enigmatic woman.

"We are all friends here. We have to be", she replied softly, lowering her head. Then she looked up again at Harry, her dark eyes holding a lazy yet alluring appeal even he could not miss. "Thank you for saving me back there. I hate to say this, but we half-vampires cannot quite match up to the real thing. Without you here, we would have been quickly overrun", she said, looking directly at his Sharingan. Harry found himself staring straight back.

He never could admit it openly, but in the depths of his mind he quite liked the fact that the fellowship stared straight at his Sharingan with absolutely no hesitation. He liked it even more when Susan locked gazes with him, staring deep into his patterned eyes as if the secret to her deliverance lay deep inside.

"Its fine", he replied after a moment, glancing at the side to see the vampires he had pin cushioned to save her. His eyes were drawn involuntarily to her toned body, its curves softened pleasingly by maturity. He followed the winding tattoo on her arm, following it slowly as it rose up to her shoulder and reappeared where her skin was again exposed at the neck. Everyone loves our Sharingan, apparently enough to kill us for it. And sleeveless leather shirts on a woman are all it takes for you to get distracted I see, interjected Evolette's dry voice as his gaze fell upon a tendril of the tattoo that disappeared, winding gracefully upon her cleavage and beyond.

"Harry, are you tired?", came her solicitous inquiry, causing him to blush as he tore his eyes away from where the tattoos spread out gracefully beneath her jacket into both sides of her cleavage. She is a beautiful woman, and I am tired of not noticing beautiful women, he admitted to Evolette. Looking up at Susan's knowing smile, he was annoyed by how his heart beat faster, and breathing increased in speed. Apparently it was better, according to Evolette herself, to acknowledge those urges of his adolescence rather than stop them in their tracks.

"Not really. Tergeo", he said, pointing his right hand towards her. "There, that saves you from having to bathe", he rambled on as the dried blood covering her disappeared completely, leaving her skin clean and fresh. "Bathing in this weather, right? I bet it's a pain. That's why I simply clean myself with magic. One spell and it's all done", he finished intelligently, scowling slightly at Evolette's long-suffering sigh.

Susan's smile grew wider at his turmoil, and the way she changed her pose subtly screamed at him that she was quite aware of her body's effect on him. "It must be convenient, I agree. Thank you for the cleanup. But", she said demurely, turning about and looking back at him with those dark eyes that were beginning to upset what he thought was a steadfast mind, "I prefer hot water to wash off the filth of the Red Court. Can you get me back to the house? Martin already left", she said, watching the last of the Fellowship depart from the devastated village.

I see you are giving in to your baser instincts, observed Evolette as he took Susan's hand and disappeared from the gory battlefield in a twist and scream of air. They landed an instant later in the hall of the house the Fellowship had appropriated here, and watched as she walked off towards her own quarters with that same knowing smile on her face. What baser instincts are you talking about?, he asked Evolette indignantly.

Those baser instincts, Harry, that are making you watch Susan's swaying hips rather than be on alert for an ambush. The Eternal Sharingan has better uses than ogling the female body in the finest detail, she said primly. Harry immediately diverted his glance, disturbed by his own reactions to Susan. There was something raw about her, a kind of honesty that he could feel the moment he met her. Even the violence she was mired in seemed to swirl around her, enhancing her with its best effects rather than degrade her with its worst.

I should probably rest, he thought, irritated by how easily he was getting sidetracked.

You should. The fight was nothing terrible, but holding back for the sake of anonymity really is tiring. Oh, and I think even your Sharingan can develop a squint if you keep trying to look like that at her chest as she climbs the stairs, Evolette said snidely, and he once more desisted with an effort. Harry shook his head, and disappeared with a swirl of air only to reappear instantly in his own modest quarters. We might have a problem if you act this prickly over every woman I ogle, he told Evolette as he crashed down on his bed.

Ogle anyone, see if I care, she replied haughtily. Just don't get killed while doing it!

Fine. You know, things would be so much easier if I could use the Mangekyo. I wouldn't even need these Fellowship people to get in my way. Villagers wouldn't have to die just for me to remain obscure, he thought, saddened as he recalled the repeated slaughter he had seen over the past weeks…slaughter he and the Fellowship had arrived only too late to stop. Human life was cheap in these parts, cheaper than dirt was to Lucius Malfoy. Evolette was silent for a moment and then spoke as he closed his eyes in preparation to sleep while activating several warding spells of alarm and security.

Perhaps we can accomplish such a thing at the end of our stay here.

What?, he asked sleepily. How?

Rest, Harry, she told him soothingly as he fell into slumber, dream of beautiful women and better days while you can. I will tell you on the morrow.

…

"My, my. Severus, you Wand Wizards certainly know how to wreck up a place", chortled the Winter Lady Maeve. Snape, as usual, exhibited no outward reaction; doing that could earn him pain that he would rather be without. Instead, he merely inclined his head in assent as he and his Lady watched the intense battle within the spell-damage ward of 's. Maeve's veiling was powerful as ever. He was certain not even the Flamels could detect them behind this veil of Maeve's.

"What do you think about the boy?", Maeve questioned him idly, her young face curious.

"He is going to be extremely dangerous in the future", replied Snape instantly, as was expected of him. Light and fire splashed around the confined ward indiscriminately, thanks to the enthusiastic defense of the Order members who for some reason had surrounded Neville and Rostov. "Those trees seem to be nearly impervious to direct magic; I believe transfiguration is ineffective upon it as well. It has to be cut down physically, and conjuring substances to do that, at that scale, is tiring after a while. The Raw Wizards will find it even harder to face him since transfiguration is punishable by death in their society", Snape finished.

"Yes. Quite skilled at observation, aren't you?", mused Maeve, idly swatting away a killing curse that had strayed towards her. "Look at him go. He has no control, nor has he harnessed the full power of Titania's gift. Yet he is wreaking havoc…most delicious."

It is true, thought Snape as he observed the boy in action. He had long thought Longbottom to be a mostly useless student, an inept fool whose potential would go to waste like so many others'. Yet watching the boy summon a massive tree trunk from the earth to use as a giant flail was something incredible; he had already struck down five Vampires so forcefully that they were embedded deep in the stone walls. Their Warden's swords could cut through the thirty-feet thick trunk, but it was of no avail. The cuts were too shallow.

"Severus, would you please take care of the people trying to protect him. I think I want to see how the boy does alone. Finish them", instructed Maeve.

Hesitation in following her orders meant death…even if the orders were to kill people he had once fought alongside and even admired. Snape stepped out of the veil, already under his own veil, and instantly rushed into the chaos of the battle to execute Maeve's orders. Winter's might churned within him as he brought forth its strength; his body responded as he ran and he shot through the Vampires who were milling about trying to find a way through the encirclement of Order Members to Neville.

He had reached Alastor Moody, who was sending forth a constant stream of spells against three Vampires, lighting the air around him with fantastic colors. A well placed trip jinx sent the Auror tumbling to the ground, and Snape took no joy in seeing a Vampire impale the old man instantly. He next shot towards Nymphadora Tonks, who had long since shed her Bellatrix visage. A blasting curse sent her careening through the surprised Vampires, causing her to collapse in a heap as she hit the wall. Kingsley Shacklebolt fell down bleeding as Snape cut off his right arm at the elbow with a well-placed Sectumsempra. The Vampires had already overwhelmed Hestia Jones who was the lone remaining member of the Order force.

A traitor once, a traitor forevermore, thought Snape, knowing Maeve took joy in how he was forced to kill his old friends. Maeve had merely changed his allegiance, not his feelings. Hestia Jones screamed as three Vampires fell upon her; blood splattered to the ground as she was hewn by three Warden's swords, swords that were never meant to be used in such a manner. Using Winter's strength again, he managed to weave through the darting Vampires as they sought to separate Rostov from Neville.

Snape saw them succeed well; some twenty were remaining, and even Rostov would find it hard to deal with ten Vampires wielding Warden's swords. "It is done, my Lady", he said as he came back to stand by her side, allowing his veiling spell to merge with hers. His hand tightened around his black wand as he beheld the cut down Order members, and the Vampires circling Neville and Rostov separately. He shot a glance out of the corner of his eye at the duel happening at the other end of the enormous ward; Lily was fighting Bellatrix with such ferocity that even he was impressed.

Apparently, no magic was dark enough for Lily to cast as she faced the Death Eater witch. Snape had never seen Lily this focused to kill someone, and the sight evoked strange feelings in him; Brain fryers and disembowelers laid waste to what remained of the ward at their end, as did killing curses aplenty. Lily's wand moved as fast as Bellatrix's, red hair flying as she dodged and evaded nimbly to return spells as deadly or even deadlier than the mad witch's. Snape was no longer certain Bellatrix would kill Lily as he had first assumed at their encounter's commencement.

"Your lost love really is good at this. Look at her go, even I feel the darkness of her spells", giggled Maeve. Snape tore his eyes away from Lily, resolutely looking away towards Neville Longbottom. The feelings there were far too complex; he had put her through terrible things because she had betrayed him, he had betrayed her too…Snape could not even remember all the betrayals they had done to each other. He did not even want to try.

"My Lady, should I finish the hit Wizard?", he questioned deferentially, irritated by Rostov's dogged resistance. He wanted to be done with this affair, wanted to be away from Lily's presence. Her face reminded him of all that he had done to her; what he had put her through could not be called pain- that word was far too mild. Not for the first time he cursed Maeve for not taking away his ability to feel guilt. "He is resisting far too long. Longbottom will not have enough opponents for you to gauge his abilities", he added, looking away from Maeve's piercing eyes , eyes he knew would see through to the root of his confusion.

"Do not bother. The boy is ending this now; the death of the wizards seems to have infuriated him as expected. Watch, and do not miss this", Maeve murmured, sounding like a satisfied cat. Snape's eyes widened as the boy's normally brown eyes seemed to light up from within, and his black cloak flutter around his lean frame as Longbottom slammed his palms together and yelled out:

"Cessum est saltus!"

Deep forest emergence, Snape translated within his mind, watching curiously as to what the boy would cause to happen. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Maeve take a step forward, greed openly displayed upon her visage as the ground around Longbottom began to shake violently. Indeed, the entire Hospital began to shake as if shaken by a Giant from underneath. He glanced to the side to see Lily and Bellatrix continue their duel unmindful of the cacophony around them; all he could see was hate and homicidal rage in their faces as they dueled with curses of such malice that the sunlight itself dimmed to nothingness around them.

Searing cold seemed to surround him all of a sudden, and he glanced around to see that Maeve had summoned a cocoon of thick, clear ice around them. As the spherical cocoon floated into the air at the Winter Lady's command, Snape saw magic on a scale that he considered very rare. He could practically feel his Lady's greed and lust, though it was not openly shown by her. He personally could not believe that the Wizard causing all this was Longbottom.

"He has potential. Color me impressed", said Maeve, her icy blue gaze dancing with a delight that terrified him. Snape too was grudgingly impressed as at the high point of the earth's oscillations, the ground exploded in a series of deafening sounds to allow massive tree trunks to rise out of the earth. The trees multiplied by the hundreds as they raged around Longbottom, all the time growing in size and ferocity, destroying the entire hospital in their ceaseless advance. The Vampires were swept aside like gnats; stabbing those trunks was like trying to cut an enormous block of clay with a single needle. No matter how they dodged or evaded, they were mercilessly crushed by the trees.

It really is a deep forest, Snape thought in the temporary safety of his mind, flinching slightly as the menacing forest dashed violently into Maeve's shield, eventually forming around it. 's was no more as the forest multiplied exponentially with Longbottom as the origin, fed by his extraordinary magic which was in turn fed by his sheer rage. A pained cry took his attention, and he turned to see Bellatrix brought down to the ground by the deluge of trees and eventually disappearing under their weight.

The famed hospital itself was no more as the forest replaced it with terrible sounds of destruction, tearing down the spell-enforced construction as easily as a child tore down a castle of sand. "It is almost as if the trees have no regard for magic, my Lady", he said hesitantly to Maeve, who grinned at him. Snape braced himself for pain, but none came to him for once. The forest was dense enough that no sunlight entered the building, and all Snape could see around was trees. He had been to the Amazonian rainforests once in his life to search for certain ingredients, and Longbottom's impromptu forest brought back those unpleasant memories in a rush.

"Ah, how resourceful", said Maeve cheerfully as sounds of Lily Potter struggling through the dense forest reached them. Bellatrix's unconscious body floated towards them, squeezing uncomfortably through a loop in the involuted tree trunks that surrounded them all completely. "Deal with this, Severus; You must somehow find a way to get the boy's parents from her. I will have my answer to that cursed Peverell heir soon enough", she seethed, her clear blue eyes lighting up from within by the storm of Winter.

"I might have to enter the Dark Lord's camp. He can detect Winter's presence, and I am no match for him", Snape said.

"It does not matter. I have manipulated events as much as I could, Severus", she said silkily. "You are my sword in the Wizarding World. And you will go where I direct you! I have caused Voldemort's dark Witch to fall into your grasp. I trust you can take it from here?"

"Yes, my Lady", said Snape, kneeling instantly to the Winter Lady. He knew that the Unseelie Accords expressly forbade Maeve from taking a direct hand in the World, thus the need for agents like him. Maeve told him and several others like him what she wanted done and used those consequences to play a convoluted game of chess with the lives of people. He stood as Maeve disappeared, and walked towards Bellatrix's prone form.

"They suspect me. James, Sirius, the Flamels, all of them think I have turned."

"As well they should", said Snape bitterly, turning to face the woman he had hated for so long. Lily Potter's robes were torn at places, her hair disheveled and her countenance tired. "Now you understand how it is to play both sides of the board. Incarcerous", he said, pointing his wand at Bellatrix and causing her to be tightly bound in thick black ropes.

"You should have done as Maeve directed you. You should have broken me", Lily said simply, looking around with a fascination in her green eyes that did not show upon her face. "At least Neville is safe. He created all this life using just magic as a source…it appears the old bat Trelawney wasn't actually bad at this. The children of prophecy really do embody enormous power-"

"Just go", Snape cut in tiredly. "I have no wish to blather unnecessarily. I did not break you because I could use you to break free of my own binding. Remember I can finish your sanity anytime I wanted, Lily. I hold your fate in the palm of my hand. Follow my orders, and all will be well."

"I-"

"Lily", said Snape quietly, standing up and looking deep into her eyes. His Legilimency was always far above hers, and with the cold malice of Winter he dispelled her Occlumency and filled her mind with what he had done to her. She fell down to her knees shaking, and Snape stepped forward, a part of him enjoying having his hated former best friend under his thumb like this. "That Dementor did pull out enough of your soul for me to use. The Dark Arts were always superior, I told you this so many times. Do you want me to feed your soul piece by piece to your favourite Dementor?"

"No, Severus", she whispered fearfully, shaking like a leaf as the memory consumed her completely. "Not again."

"Then do as you are told. You will break Bellatrix. You will find the location of Longbottom's parents, and you will tell me of it. Then, you will sabotage the Department's efforts to find them. Do you understand?", he asked, once again relishing this absolute control he had over her. He did not really hate her anymore, despite all she had done to him, but there was something to be said about revenge nevertheless.

"I understand, Severus, and I obey", she said, beaten, looking down as Snape roughly retracted from her mind. He had taught her well during her captivity; Dementors modified for the express purpose of interrogation and retraining were truly fearsome; it was then he understood the might Maeve commanded, the might which was enough to rearrange the being of creatures the Department had not even begun to understand. He surprised himself with his cruelty sometimes, but the disgusting woman in front of him deserved it all. Even to have her soul sucked out and thrust back in like the stuffing of some doll?, a small voice asked him, reminding him of how he had taken out his rage on her.

His cold eyes felt moist suddenly, and for the slightest instant he felt deeply ashamed of what he had become. Somewhere in the corner of his mind he could feel Maeve delighting in his agitation and dilemma, and cursed that the Winter Lady had taken his allegiance and left much of his humanity buried. No doubt to cause him more pain, and weaken him.

"Good. That bumbling fool Rostov will wake anytime now, and Longbottom's exhaustion won't stay long", he said, looking briefly in that direction, and then laid a hand on Lily's cheek, knowing how repulsed she was by his touch. "Do your part well", he whispered to her, "and we will both be free."

"Yes Severus", was her listless reply.

"I will contact you for the information. Be sharp", he told her before he disapparated with a barely audible pop.

….

"Look at him. He was a great Wizard, respected by all. At a point I almost thought he was the wizard we were waiting for", said Nicholas to his wife as they stood by each other's side at the foot of Albus Dumbledore's cot. The room was bleached white, and void of all furniture but for a few potion bottles upon a small tea table. "I still cannot believe how far he fell and that in so short a while. In the space of thirteen years, Croaker and he have managed to push us all to the brink of destruction", he added, looking at the shallowly-breathing form of Albus Dumbledore.

"Nicholas, his failing was not a lack of competence, but an excess of ego. Even as a boy he was convinced that he and he alone was right", sighed Perenelle. Truth be told, she had begun to feel distant from Albus during the time of the first war itself. It was then that she had stopped seeing the serious, idealistic boy she and her husband had raised. Albus had become a self-righteous dictator at best, all in the guise of a benevolent guide to society. It was regrettable he had disturbed so much before falling to his present state. "Is it wise keeping him in the Department? We are within the Fidelius, and we do not want Dumbledore undermining it for whatever misguided goals he nurtures in his mind."

"It would be so easy to kill him, and disguise it as a consequence of the magic he was hit with", Nicholas mused, slowly circling Dumbledore's cot. Perenelle watched her husband consider the deed seriously. One might even say their task demanded it; they needed all their resources to keep track of Voldemort and the larger world, none could be wasted upon Dumbledore any longer. But all the logic in the world could not stop her from seeing the boy she raised in place of the jaded old man in the cot.

"We could use him", she suggested softly. "The Dark Arts are corrosive, yes, but we have resorted to them over the centuries to achieve our purposes. Much of the Wizarding world sees Albus as a savior still, Nicholas, you know this. There is much he could do if we… guided him."

"I will not risk using that spell again", said Nicholas, a haunted tone in his voice as he stared up at his wife. "If anyone must avoid the Dark Arts, it should be us. We are the last of our group, our friends. Godric isn't here anymore to set us straight, nor is Salazar here to steer us away from the lure. The best solution is to be rid of him here and now", said the aristocratic wizard, laying the point of his forefinger upon the centre of a harshly breathing Dumbledore's forehead. Perenelle stepped forward and caught his arm, and a blue-grey glow erupted around her palm as it curled around his arm.

"There is still one alternative, Nicholas."

"No. Harry's morality is nearly absent, Perenelle. I refuse to expose him more than necessary to the Sharingan's ability to control and deceive. The Archive says she will make him relearn laughter and love, and it is not our place to interfere. Stop blocking my spell now, and let me end this one threat. The threat we are responsible for", he told her flatly. Perenelle glanced once at Albus, whose scarred and emaciated body twisted and turned as if sensing the peril befalling it. She looked down at where she held Nicholas' arm, her counter spell blocking the magic flowing down his arm. Nicholas lifted her chin gently with his free hand, and looked into her eyes.

"I am sorry, my love. We have hundreds of regrets and this will merely be one more. We are strong enough to bear it. Release my arm", he prompted, and her eyes filled with tears. If she knew all those years ago that the boy they taught would need to die by their hand like this, she would never have adopted him. Despite all that Albus had done, Perenelle had loved him like her own son. "He has become despicable. Lost. You know this, Perenelle. The ones we raise as our own seem to want to betray us more than our enemies", Nicholas continued, wiping away a tear from her cheek as she was reminded of Quintus.

"Nicholas-"

"Let me do it for the boy, Perenelle. We have failed to protect him thus far from Albus. I know that to control Albus' mind is nearly impossible…his occlumency is close to impenetrable. Let me do it for our descendant. He is family…and Albus has suffered enough. He is near death anyway", he said quietly. Perenelle's face twisted in grief as she let go of her husband's arm. Immediately, Albus stopped breathing, and his disfigured face lolled to the side with a sickening finality. Nicholas enfolded her tightly in his embrace as she hugged him, utter grief marring his face at the deed he had been forced to do.

"I am sorry, my love. It had to happen, I am sorry", he murmured, his heart bleeding for Perenelle. If she loved, she loved with all her heart. Each death over the centuries was like their very first bereavement and she bore it all. "I am sorry", he said yet again, and kissed the top of her head softly. Perenelle was always his conscience over the centuries. If not for her, he would have long since fallen to the lure of power. Generation after generation, we raise them like our own children. We love them like our own blood, and they always manage to betray us. She has borne every sorrow, and still remains for the most part the Perenelle I fell for, he thought, soothing his wife softly.

"Nicholas", she murmured, raising her tear streaked face to look at him. "Nicholas, this will be the last time we do this. Albus was like a wayward child, but he was much like my own son. If Harry chooses the other side, I will not stand in his way", she said firmly.

"Perenelle, we promised your brother-", began Nicholas in a troubled tone.

"He is not the one who has had to live for centuries and lose scores of loved ones, some of them dead by his own hand!", said Perenelle, fire in her eyes. "My brother is gone, Nicholas, gone! His final legacy is Harry, and I will not stand against my own flesh and blood. I tell you here and now, Nicholas: I have chosen my side, and I side with my family. If Harry goes a different way despite our efforts, then he will face no opposition from me."

"Fiendfyre", said Nicholas absently, and a bar of white hot fire vaporized Dumbledore's corpse and cot. Just like that, another wizard they had raised thinking to make him great was dead by their hand. "Perenelle, that will not happen. Harry will not end up like Albus. He is altruistic in a way Albus never was, though he never shows it openly anymore", said Nicholas softly, trying to steer her mind away from these heavy thoughts.

But as they disappeared in a flash of light, he knew this event would scar them deeper than ever. They might be older than most wizards, but even they had their limits. Nicholas knew Perenelle had found hers, and he knew he was close to finding his. I am sorry, Arcturus. It appears we may break our covenant after all, he thought regretfully as he and his wife appeared in one of the myriad hallways of the Department of Mysteries. Occlumency aided them in composing their faces to its usual calmness as a lanky young Unspeakable came running down the deserted corridor.

"Is there a problem, Heathcliffe?"

"Sir, 's is down! Longbottom completely destroyed it, but that's not even the main problem. We have a giant attack happening down at Edinburgh, sir! The Dark Lord's made the first move!", exclaimed Heathcliffe, between panting, grunting and a great deal of sweating. Nicholas made to speak, but was cut off by the frantic young wizard. "And Sir, Raw magic has been confirmed at Devonshire. Someone summoned some sort of creature, likely from the Nevernever-"

"What's Longbottom's and Rostov's status?", questioned Perenelle, cutting through Heathcliffe's monologue. Nicholas nodded to her, acknowledging her return to business. Hers was the strongest mind he had ever seen, and she showed it every single day. Heathcliffe finally caught his breath, and looked at Perenelle.

"Safe, Madam. Rostov and Longbottom are back!"

"Seal off the Department from the inside. The ministry will take care of the Giant attack, and Croaker will likely help. Heathcliffe, establish contact with the White Council immediately and send me a report on the description of the creature. We will not fight more than we need to", said Nicholas firmly and Heathcliffe disapparated with a pop. "We may have to fight if Langtry insists on his game of sitting on our sides of the fence", he said gravely to Perenelle.

"I know. Someone has to", she replied, the sorrow previously present in her blue eyes replaced with the sheer resolve he so admired in her. I wonder who summoned the creature, he wondered to Perenelle as they willed themselves out of the dank hallway towards the conference hall of the Department.

….

Disillusionment charms were some of the most intricate and useful charm in a Wand Wizard's arsenal. A powerful one would substitute for an invisibility cloak, and there were many Wizards who could cast one of such caliber. But Lord Voldemort's charm went beyond even that…indeed, the place he stood betrayed no hint of his presence. "Very well done, Namshiel", said the Dark Lord with a wry smile, seeming quite satisfied with what he saw before him. "You are quite inventive as usual; this should draw out quite a lot of their most important Wizards. Do you believe the Merlin will fall for it?"

"Either way it is a victory", said Namshiel gruffly. He was not the most pleasant man to look upon. Indeed, his body was quite gaunt and skeletal, and his sense of dressing left much to be desired. Out of his joints protruded skeletal thorn like appendages, which gave him his name: Thorned Namshiel. Namshiel was one of the most enigmatic of the Order of Blackened Denarius, his mastery of magic reaching beyond what was humanly achievable to seemingly divine. Voldemort was quite certain he outmatched Namshiel only in sheer power. When it came down to knowledge, Namshiel possessed thousands of years' worth.

"The Wand Wizards are too busy preserving the Statute of secrecy, while the White Council plays its politics and refuses to help. This will certainly draw out the Flamels", observed Voldemort, looking critically at how inefficient the ministry was at handling even this small issue. While some might look at the attack of a Mistfiend of the other realm as a major catastrophe, it did not even come close to what Voldemort was capable of bringing to bear upon the world. He watched as the Mistfiend prowled the streets, its deadly tentacles slashing everything in its path to pieces.

"I laced it with Mordite. Old trick, always works. The cretins really should stop lighting up their path. When will they learn the Mistfiend is attracted to light, and cuts down everything in the way?", Namshiel wondered contemptuously.

It was quite brilliant, thought Voldemort. For the Mistfiend to attack effectively, everyone needed to be close to a light source. He and Namshiel had simply overwhelmed the poor Muggle devices with Raw magic, and the lights in the town had given out completely. The muggles had inevitably lit candles to stave away the Darkness, the only thing that kept them away from the reach of certain death.

It was then that Namshiel had summoned the Mistfiend.

Screams of terror rent the air as the Mistfiend prowled the town, its Mordite-laced tentacles cutting through everything like a hot knife through butter. Pieces of human, dog, and indeed anything with life lay in the path it tread. "Checkmate", murmured Lord Voldemort with satisfaction as he felt perimeter charms and wards go up all around the town's border. As expected, the Wand Wizards were containing the slaughter within the city, preventing the larger Muggle word from being informed.

Of course, in stopping a panic, they were also denying the Muggles help. They were essentially sacrificing this town to maintain their precious Statute of Secrecy. Dumbledore's Greater good rears its head again, he thought amusedly, as he watched the Mistfiend bifurcate ten people at once. He turned as Alastair appeared behind him.

"What news, Alastair?", he asked coolly as Namshiel seemed intent on directing his summons. One of the very few powerful enough to control such a thing, noted Voldemort as Alastair bowed shortly and began to speak.

"Lord Voldemort, I bear news. Albus Dumbledore is dead at last. I know not who killed him, but I know he will no longer be affecting fate."

Voldemort closed his eyes, trying to savor the pleasant news. He did not care who killed Dumbledore as long as the old man was dead. Cowl's inability to finish the job had not mattered in the slightest, it seemed, and Alastair's vision of Dumbledore's eventual death was perfect. "Thank you, Alastair. Now as long as that fool Elliot does not see through events and my trap, we should see our purpose done today. How well are you blocking his ability?", asked the Dark Lord, waves of delight still rushing through him at this welcome triumph. The sounds of the city's destruction only added to that ecstasy, as did the sounds of the Mistfiend carving the city pieces.

"I cannot, my Lord", said Alastair apologetically. Namshiel stirred in his concentration, and Voldemort narrowed his eyes dangerously at the Dark Prophet.

"What did you say?"

"I cannot, my Lord. I cannot distort his sight if I do not know where he is. He is hiding within a Fidelius, most likely within that of the Department. They must have initiated their wartime response. It is likely he is foreseeing as well-"

Voldemort flicked his wand coldly at the Dark Prophet, sending him away in a flash of light before his anger made him do something he would later regret. Ignoring the Mistfiend slaughtering a group of huddled teenagers bearing torches at the far end of the street, he looked at Namshiel. "Things are not going as expected if that bumbling fool can warn them of our trap. We must stop the fiend, draw it back to us", he said, his wand tracing patterns in the air as he wove an intricate spell.

"Very well, but it matters not. Whoever they send here to deal with the Mistfiend will be an adversary worth eliminating, Voldemort", replied Namshiel almost carelessly. Voldemort nodded shortly, acceding to that statement. There were only a few people likely to respond to this other than the Flamels. A slash of his wand completed the spell, and every light in the city went out completely. He could feel the Mistfiend stop in its tracks, and he could feel Namshiel carefully drawing it back to where he stood.

"Let us be ready then, Voldemort. Whoever will arrive to deal with this will arrive soon", he said, a faint miasma of green light around his right hand even as the screams of the dead and dying echoing off the city's walls like a dirge of horror. Voldemort twirled his wand idly, waiting curiously to see who would come. He would have very much liked to remove the Flamels from the game today, but he did not count on sheer circumstance to play truant. It appeared not even a seer like Alastair understood fate…at best he was just a witness.

"Someone just arrived", Namshiel said, the complete darkness and horrifying screams doing nothing to interfere with their fine sense of the magic around them.

"Yes. Yes they did", purred Voldemort, instantly recognizing the new arrival. This was not according to plan, but it was going to be quite interesting. There would be other opportunities to accomplish the original intention of this plan. For now he would enjoy what was coming. "Come, Namshiel. You are about to meet someone who has been causing practically everyone a great deal of trouble. Your introduction to him is long overdue", said Voldemort, walking through the darkness towards his destination.

…

Harry's eyes shot open at the sense of a hard object rapping his head none too gently. The air rippled as he activated the Eternal Mangekyo without hesitation, slipping into complete alertness as he appeared at the window. His hand glowed bright as he wordlessly incanted the Fiendfyre, and his legendary eyes shone ready to burn to crisp his opponent.

"Ah, Harry. I am flattered by the greeting, believe me, but we have no time for it I fear."

"Not you again, Rashid", complained Harry, not quite having overcome the toll the previous battle with the Vampires had taken on him. His eyes returned to the three-comma state, and the light of the Fiendfyre faded as he took in the urgency apparent in the Gatekeeper's stance. "I thought my anonymity was the priority here? Why on earth are you skipping in and out of this place then?", he asked irritably.

"We have a situation, Harry. Forgive me but we need you to come to England", said Rashid apologetically.

"Right. But I need to stay here and complete eating the muffins Susan made me", he said, pointing at the blueberry muffins Susan had sent him in thanks for his fervent participation in their battles. "They are really quite something. Want to try one?", he asked courteously, offering one to the Wizard. "No? Then I will have one again", he said, munching on the savory and making exaggerated moans of delight in the process.

"I wouldn't have approached you, Harry, if it were not truly urgent! We have tied ourselves up, and none of us are willing to help the other in fear of expending resources we may need later. We need you to intervene before Voldemort razes a full town to the ground, and kills everyone there painfully!", iterated Rashid, rapping the butt of his staff firmly on the ground for emphasis. Harry raised an eyebrow as he completed eating his muffin. He then reached for another, and again offered it to Rashid, who was quickly becoming irate.

"You're not hungry. May I offer you some really good orange juice? I stole it from Martin's private stash. It's exquisite", said Harry, pouring himself a good amount of said beverage. Rashid was pacing around, speaking quickly as Harry downed the juice rapidly.

"The Flamels are unable to respond, because someone warned them it was a trap for Voldemort to finish them off. They asked us, and the Merlin refused point blank. Before you ask, Neville Longbottom spent himself completely in a parallel fight with Bellatrix Lestrange. He would not be able to respond effectively anyway, not yet. I cannot do so, nor can my allies thanks to the Merlin forbidding us openly. We cannot risk infighting or insubordination, not now", Rashid told him seriously.

"What about the Department itself, or the old Traitor?", asked Harry idly.

"The Department is sealed off both to the outside and from the inside, and Albus Dumbledore is dead. Your Dark Lord has timed his attack extremely well, but he did not foresee the Department hiding itself. Anyway, this means someone has to respond – "

"I told you I have to finish off these muffins, Rashid! And then I have to learn how to make a raft with bamboo. We're going rafting in the river tomorrow, you know?", Harry asked childishly. No way in hell am I going to get mixed up in this nonsense again. I am finished with that stupid Department, he thought angrily.

Not really, Harry. And it wouldn't hurt to hear what the man has to say, Evolette admonished gently.

"People are dying there, Harry. Women, children…and we aren't able to help because of our suspicion and pride. Your lot have locked themselves in, and we are forbidden. Your ministry has walled off Devonshire to prevent an incident, and the Muggle ministry has no clue about this either. Longbottom is down as is Rostov. Please, Harry", said Rashid in a pained voice, "please. Do not let innocents die if you can prevent it. And you know you can."

Harry cursed softly, indecision causing turmoil in his mind. Evolette, I don't want to leave. I don't believe I am the only one that can deal with this crisis.

Rashid is not lying, you know this. You can refuse, of course, but can you have this on your conscience?

No, answered Harry firmly. He finally looked up to meet Rashid's gaze, eyes shifting back to their final state once more. "What's going on, then?", he asked, and a genuine smile broke out on the Gatekeeper's face at his question.

"I owe you, Harry. I will not forget this aid you render today", said the Gatekeeper gratefully. At Harry's gesture to get on with it, he continued. "Someone has summoned a Mistfiend, a creature of the Nevernever. It is attracted to light, and destroys anything in the way to it. Its structure is gaseous, but its tentacles are completely lethal and it is extremely resistant to most magics. You see why you are the most suited person to deal with this threat. Ordinarily, most of the Senior Council would be necessary to oppose something like this."

"Who's the summoner?", asked Harry, while writing out a note for Susan.

"We think Voldemort, or one of his associates. Harry, there is a good chance they might be present there to direct their summons", replied Rashid, waiting impatiently for Harry to complete his note writing. "Done? Excellent. Due to the Mistfiend's nature it is common to drench the place of attack in darkness, so that the targets will resort to light, making them easy prey for the creature. So it is highly likely you will be fighting in partial or complete darkness in Devonshire", lectured the Raw Wizard as Harry tucked the note carefully in his blueberry muffin tray.

"No problem", said Harry, and wasted no time as he used the Kamui to exit the room.

How cruel, said Evolette sadly as terrified and pained screams became audible to them. The darkness was complete around them, though what lights existed around them got extinguished rapidly, always accompanied by the death knell of a person. Harry's eyes roved over to where the screams were highest, and the darkness did not matter to him as he laid his gaze upon the Mistfiend for the first time. It was a gaseous, incorporeal being with scores of tentacles lashing in every direction. Each slash cut something in pieces, be they living or otherwise.

No use attacking the thing. Find its summoner, said Evolette in a steely voice, and he could sense the outrage in her at witnessing this slaughter of a peaceful town. The same rage echoed in him as he recalled the atrocities he had seen with the Half Vampires, and the Eternal Mangekyo gleamed as he cast around trying to see through the darkness. He did not have to wait very long as two presences made themselves known to him.

I should have known, he thought, as he clearly glimpsed Voldemort through the darkness. He also saw another man accompany Voldemort, and his body was strange. He had thorns protruding at odd angles from his body and his magic felt…strange. He had no idea who this man was but it appeared Evolette did. Her gasp of recognition did not sit well with him, nor did the feelings of extreme caution she exhibited later.

Harry, it appears we are facing truly dangerous foes here. Facing Voldemort is one thing, but facing Voldemort and Namshiel together is something else. Be very careful…and don't you dare hold back, she exhorted him. Harry had no intention of doing anything of the sort, and he stepped forward to meet Voldemort and his accomplice in the ghastly atrocity around him. For some reason, Voldemort looked positively eager at meeting him. The surprise in the one Evolette had called 'Namshiel' was apparent as Voldemort spoke.

"Harry Potter, my favorite guest. Every party you crash seems to be oddly satisfying to me. Now, how about introductions?", asked the Dark Lord silkily. Harry stared as Voldemort grasped his companion by the shoulder affably and indicated him in a refined manner. The darkness seemed to pulse around them, and they all ignored the yells of the ruined and dead as Voldemort spoke.

"Thorned Namshiel, meet Harry Potter, the object of everyone's affection. , please meet Thorned Namshiel, one of the highest in the Order of the Blackened Denarius, and master of more magics than you know exist. As I said, this will be quite the party. Now, time for the main entertainment", said Voldemort, nodding to Namshiel who was evaluating Harry with a considering gaze before he spoke.

"Tell me, Potter, have you ever faced a Mistfiend before?"