Author Notes: Hello everyone! Thank you again for your wonderful reviews for the previous chapter. This chapter took much longer than expected, but it's ready at last. Enjoy :)

Appreciation: My heartfelt gratitude to my co-author and beta, Vine Verrine. It's been a long hard slog getting this chapter out and it's only post worthy because of her talent and her time. Truly, I would be lost without you, girl :)

- Chapter Start -

If anyone had dared to ask Lucius Malfoy what were his thoughts right this moment, his mind wouldn't even have registered the question, let alone come up with an answer to it. His eyes were almost unwillingly riveted to the long black form Severus Snape made on the ground. Lucius was not standing close enough to take in everything, but his attention was such that for what he did see, it was in minute detail, as if staring through the lens of a pair of omnioculars. He could make out traces of sand in Severus' robes and hair; a few black strands lying across his forehead and his whole face tight like a stoic mask.

Lucius' gaze traveled lower, past those thin potion stained fingers and long legs bent at the knees until he encountered two pale feet, their soles flat against the ground. It would be him in that exact same position next. There was something unequivocally submissive about lying on the ground like that. Three weeks ago it would have been a disgusting idea to entertain, let alone execute. But, to Lucius' disquiet, the notion that he was going to be in that position, hopefully soon, was not so dire, so devastatingly humiliating now. He looked down at his own feet, just as dirty as the man's inside the runic circle and got transported, for the barest, most minuscule of moments, to other settings from recent, sharp memories.

He could see his feet not touching sandy rock, but a plush burgundy red carpet with the embroidered hem of ruby robes a few feet away, feeling the weight of an otherworldly - before called 'impure' in the privacy of his mind - creature's gaze on his lowered head. The memory, so tangible in those moments, taught him things he was, ashamedly, ignorant about.

It was one of the first instances that started to mark his submission to his Path of Destiny. A submission that so rankled at first. A vow to humility, in Aventine's words, that Lucius couldn't call anything but humiliation.

It wasn't even the fact that his ideals were misinformed to the point of obscenity, requiring him to reconstruct everything he knew about vampires, but what he had to do to gain if not their welcoming warmth - not that vampires were really of warm dispositions - then at least their cold acceptance as a champion to their cause.

And now he was to be part of something that also reeked of him giving himself away, lying down at the feet of the people who were going to be responsible for his freedom. Allowing them to strip away every layer of his being to get at the root of his Mark; bare him to everyone and himself, and show if he was strong enough to get through this.

But right this instant, as the burgundy carpet faded and he once again felt the rough ground beneath his feet, Lucius couldn't think of any other place he would rather be than this stuffy, crowded chamber. With a sharp inhale, he jerked his gaze up, cursing himself for sinking into his thoughts.

Lady Heka was standing in the centre of the circle with one hand resting on Potter's shoulder and the other on Weasley's. The two males were kneeling in front of her, their backs towards her and their hands on Severus' left arm and leg.

Potter leaned forward just a bit and, as if a switch had been flicked, Lucius felt the thrum of his magic, immediately recognisable from the time the boy awakened him from the sleeping spell. It was warm, powerful and steady. There were a few murmurs from those around Lucius, but whether they too, recognised Potter's magic or merely felt it, he didn't care to know. The four individuals in the circle had ceased to move, staying unnaturally still, as if time within the circle has simply... stopped. There was no twitching of limbs or moving of lips or ripples in the air to indicate any spells being used, or indeed, anything happening at all.

Lucius stared at them, stomach twisting with anticipation and eyes darting from one impassive face to the other, expecting to see something... anything. But nothing happened until Severus gave a sudden jerk, a loud gasp leaving his mouth, his back arching sharply only to fall back to the ground in a sprawl of long, trembling limbs and heaving chest.

A low rumbling reached Lucius' ears which he dismissed as both indistinguishable and unimportant, but would later realise were words of surprise and disbelief from those around him, who were close enough to see what had happened. Right now, his eyes remained riveted to the Dark Mark on Severus' left arm, melting and running down the pale skin in inky rivulets, his mind barely able to process what it represented.

The black puddle on the ground shimmered and black tendrils shot out in all directions, forcing Lady Heka, Bill and Harry to duck. Like angry snakes, the tendrils slithered through the air, causing loud sparks when they clashed with the invisible barrier surrounding the circle. The crowd gasped in unison, taking a step backward and stumbling as they trod on each other's feet.

It was Weasley who moved next, face tilted up and wand held high above his head as he traced a complicated spiral movement, eyes narrowed in concentration and lips forming soundless words. A mass of red lines erupted like a fountain from the tip of his wand, crisscrossing each other gracefully in midair to weave a large net that stretched out above the circle.

Weasley directed his magical net with lightning precision, the edges stretching out and then curling downward, trapping each of the dark tendrils within its folds. With a sharp flick of his wand, he sent the red and black mass into the ground with a loud hiss, the sigils around the circle flashing briefly with a bright white light.

Lucius blinked colourful spots from his eyes, grudging admiration for Weasley's skilled wandwork almost buried under a new compulsion to move. Without being prompted, he walked inside the circle to lie down in Severus' place, long blond hair and silk robes carelessly splayed on the ground while hands grabbed his limbs.

A dark shape blocked his vision for a few moments and a distant part of Lucius' mind recognised it as Severus being floated away, the tips of his robes almost low enough to touch, while another part took in Potter's voice telling him to relax. In a different situation, he might have thought Potter was being cheeky or insolent or even teasing, but he tried to cling to those words and abide by them.

Turning his head, he encountered those bright green eyes looking into his and gave a jerky nod, aware of his shaking body and the sheen of sweat on his skin, but unable to do anything about either one. When the grip on his left arm and leg tightened to the point of pain, Lucius closed his eyes and swallowed, using the pain to ground himself against the possible outcomes he had managed not to think about all evening, but could not stop imagining now.

A numbing sensation started spreading through his body, beginning at the soles of his feet which were pressed flat against the ground, and moving upward, stilling the fine tremor in his limbs. His heart was still pounding inside his chest, but his body felt like it had been put under the Petrificus Totalus charm. A surge of Potter's magic pushed inside his body, strong enough for it to jerk if it could still move, sweeping up his left arm in a rush of tingling warmth.

An instant later, Lucius felt his Mark burn, alerted by the presence of Potter's magic. The corresponding coils of the Mark's magic wrapped around his heart began to tighten in response and the trapped organ, already beating rapidly, started going into overdrive. The resultant pain was a knife sharp flare inside his chest, making him wonder if he was suffering from a heart attack. He tried to thrash about, to shout an alarm, but all his struggles were inside his mind, unseen by anyone.

The sensations were so strong he could almost see it in his mind's eye; the sparkling gold of Potter's magic encircling his beleaguered heart and the Mark's magic, equally strong and black as midnight, squeezing tighter in retaliation. Caught between the two, Lucius could do nothing... until he felt the drain in his own magical core. Horrified, he realised the Dark Mark was tapping his magic, using it against him, and Potter's magic was wavering.

"No!" Lucius screamed, "You must get rid of it!"

But like before, his words went unheard, echoing inside his mind. Filled with rage and panic, he fought the Mark with all he had.

Potter's magic wavered again and Lucius felt another surge of power enter his body. A different magical signature seemed to surround Potter's and support it. If Potter's magic looked like bright gold in Lucius' senses, then this one was a deep rich green. It had to be Lady Heka's magic or even from the runic circle itself, but that wasn't important. What was paramount was that Potter's magic had slipped under the black coils around Lucius' heart and broken them apart.

Lucius felt the paralysing hold on him break at the same instant. His body convulsed in reaction, legs kicking out and arms flailing as a loud grunt left his mouth. He was shaking all over, but some small part of his mind felt yet another magic signature enter his body, sweeping away all traces of the Dark Lord's magic from around his heart towards his left arm where a dull pain throbbed.

Eyes snapping open, Lucius saw the crimson lines of Weasley's magical net above him and then the black tendrils striking out all around. Before he could shrink away from it, Weasley's magical net magic swarmed the other and buried it inside the ground.

"You are freed, Lord Malfoy."

Lucius turned his head and met Potter's bright green eyes still glowing with power.

"Thank you," he tried to say, but although his mouth shaped the words, not a single sound emerged. "Thank you."

He felt himself being levitated and closed his eyes, limbs trembling and throat feeling raw as if he had been screaming the whole time.

- o -

Amelia Bones stood near the entrance of the chamber, her watchful gaze alternating between the runic circle etched on the ground, and the crowd of desperate Death Eaters standing around it. She saw Severus Snape lie down in front of Harry and Bill inside the circle and waited in curious anticipation.

A minute went by without anything happening, and then another, and still that complete absence of sound or movement from the four people inside the circle. Amelia felt her brow furrow, scepticism and misgivings mingling inside her until Severus' body jerked and she saw with her own eyes the Dark Mark melt from his left arm. Thick black lines shot up from the ground at Severus' left arm, striking the invisible barrier around the circle and sparking from the impact. What happened next was so fast Amelia's eyes could barely follow; Bill's spell trapping and then sending the dark magic deep inside the ground, the intense concentration on his young face lit up by the bright white light.

Amelia was still staring when the Egyptian guards, their stoic expressions unchanged, levitated Severus out of the circle, leaving Malfoy to take his place, face set and pale eyes glittering.

As Severus was floated past her, Amelia saw the obvious signs of the toll the ritual had taken on him - his laboured breathing, the dark circles under his eyes, the sweaty pallor of his skin and trembling of his limbs. She turned back to the circle only to see the exact same thing happening as before; all four individuals within it remaining absolutely still until a few minutes later, when Malfoy convulsed and Bill cast his spell to catch the dark magic trying to escape.

Malfoy too, looked exhausted and shaking when he was levitated past Amelia and into the next chamber. It had been turned into a makeshift infirmary where a team of Egyptian healers waited to provide the Death Eaters with immediate treatment following the ritual. Amelia knew some of the latter had the means to arrange for their own medical staff, and would more than likely bypass whatever services the Egyptian government could offer in favour of returning straight home. Unless of course, they were too weak to be Portkeyed away without first getting some emergency medical attention.

The next three dozen or so Death Eaters were teenagers, their unlined faces still with traces of baby fat in their cheeks providing a start contrast to the grim, hollow eyed visages of their parents. They were pale and in a few cases, tear stained as well, staring at the circle with expressions of mingled hope and terror, seemingly oblivious to the supportive hands of their parents on their shoulders.

When the first boy stumbled forward, Amelia recognised him as one of the two Hogwarts students branded with the Dark Mark. The two had been unconscious for a few days after Voldemort cast his sleeping spell and even though that incident was three weeks old, the boy's steps were still halting and slow. After the ritual concluded, his body merely twitched in response, compared to the almost violent thrashing from Severus and Malfoy. Amelia couldn't help noting the gray hue of his skin as he was levitated past her, followed by a tearful girl who bore a strong resemblance to him.

An hour passed and the atmosphere in the chamber remained tense but under control as one by one, the young Death Eaters took their turn inside the circle. Amelia noted the time taken to remove the Dark Mark was decreasing steadily. It had taken about five minutes each for Severus and Lucius, but it was now down to two or three minutes per person. She nodded to herself. The quicker they completed this, the better for everyone concerned.

The first setback came when the second last youngster - a boy who didn't look more than fifteen - failed to rouse after his mark was removed. With his mother sobbing his name and clutching at his robes, he was hastily levitated from the circle. Amelia saw Harry looking after him for a moment, green eyes glowing and intense before he turned back to the next Death Eater. There was a grim set to Harry's jaw as he continued the ritual, stepping up the pace.

After another hour had passed, each Death Eater only needed to lie down for half a minute before he or she was levitated off. A few of them remained utterly still after their marks were removed, but they were carried off and the ritual continued.

Two more hours later, Harry, Bill and Lady Heka looked exhausted, droplets of sweat running down their faces and soaking into their robes. They soldiered on, pausing only for a second or two to draw their robe sleeves across their faces.

With the last thirty Death Eaters or so awaiting their turn, Amelia looked around as she made her way to the circle. The temperature in the chamber was noticeably cooler now since the majority of the crowd had left. Just as she reached Albus' side, Harry clapped a hand to his own forehead and let out a startled cry. He turned to look at Bill and then at Lady Heka behind them, green eyes wide with alarm.

"It's Voldemort. He's found out what we're doing!"

Lady Heka's eyes opened, their dark depths glowing with an inner fire.

"Gather the remaining people around the circle, left arm outstretched!" she ordered the guards, speaking for the first time in three hours. "Harry, Bill, we have to finish this now."

The guards started pushing the remaining Death Eaters into position. Harry and Bill leaped to their feet, almost falling over as their numb legs protested the sudden change in position. With Lady Heka's hands on their shoulders once more, they turned to the next Death Eater, Rodolphus Lestrange. Before Harry could hold his arm, Rodolphus grabbed his younger brother's arm and shoved it at Harry instead.

In seconds, the Mark on Rabastan's arm melted into inky lines, his legs buckled and he was caught by a waiting guard. As Bill dealt with the backlash from the Mark, Rodolphus and the remaining Death Eaters collapsed to the ground. They started thrashing about, their agonised screams echoing off the walls as they clutched at their left arms, eyes rolling to the backs of their heads.

"Hurry!" Lady Heka shouted.

Harry threw himself forward and grabbed Rodolphus' arm where the Dark Mark showed black and swollen. The Death Eater shuddered and then lay still, limbs splayed wide, eyes open and staring at the ceiling.

With her heart pounding inside her chest, Amelia looked around and felt her stomach drop to the ground. Except for Rabastan Lestrange, all the other Death Eaters were lying just as still, staring up with equally unseeing eyes. The sudden silence was deafening, and she could feel a low buzzing sound assaulting her ears she took in the other uncertain faces around her, eyes wide with shock and shaking hands pressed to mouths. The relatives of the Death Eaters were just beginning to comprehend what had happened.

Then the silence was broken by a muffled boom that came from outside the pyramid, loud enough to rise above the growing wails and cries from the remaining relatives, all of them in different states of realisation and despair.

Amelia pivoted towards the entrance of the chamber, her heart skipping a beat. There was only one thing she knew that could make such a sound - the protective wards erected by the Egyptian government were being broken.

"He's here. Voldemort."

Despite Harry's quiet tone, everyone turned to him. He was kneeling on the ground, sweaty, flushed and a second closer to collapse. The lightning shaped scar on his forehead was inflamed, a few drops of blood trickling down from it.

Amelia's feet carried her to his side before she realised what she was doing, Dumbledore's bright robes glinting at the corner of her eye as he did the same. When their eyes met, it was with the same sober knowledge of what was about to happen, the one thing that had simmered at the back of her mind the entire day. She turned her head to see Kingsley approaching her, his urgent steps matched by the Head of the Egyptian guards beside him, both their faces tense and alert.

"Move everyone to the back and put up a barrier to keep them safe," Amelia told them. Escape through the main entrance was impossible now.

"I will handle Voldemort," Albus added. For once, his voice was grim and his words hard like rocks falling down a precipice. "Your task is to protect everyone else."

"No. I will help you, Albus," Amelia insisted. "At least let me help with Defensive Magic."

Albus' bright blue eyes regarded her for a moment, their usual twinkle replaced by a steely glint, before he nodded.

"Very well."

The fear of Voldemort worked in the Aurors and guards' favour as the grieving relatives of the Death Eaters obeyed their instructions, more than eager to get out of harm's way. Lady Heka, Harry and Bill were amongst them, guarded by two additional Aurors.

Amelia and Albus turned to face the entrance with their wands drawn. Over the muted fearful sounds behind them, they could hear the ominous 'shhh shhh' of heavy long robes trailing over stony ground approaching the chamber.

- o -

Bill sat on the ground, leaning back against the far wall of the chamber as he peered around the long red robes of the Auror in front of him. His mind was going a mile a minute, a hundred thoughts flying through his brain. Most of them weren't happy thoughts; he and Lady Heka knew exactly how many Death Eaters had died tonight. Harry would be even more upset to learn many of those who left the circle barely alive had ceased being so a few minutes afterward.

Despite his physical exhaustion, Bill had never felt as attuned to his surroundings as he did now. The ticklish feel of sweat running down his back... the heat of his much used wand in his sweaty hand... Harry and Lady Heka's harsh breathing on either side of him... the muffled sobs around them... the metallic taste of fear in the heavy air of the chamber clinging to his skin.

This would be his first glimpse of Voldemort, the name known and feared in every Wizarding household, the Dark Lord who had attempted genocide a mere three weeks ago.

When a tall figure appeared in the doorway. Bill could swear he could feel Voldemort's magic from across the chamber and the answering thrum of Dumbledore's magic, the combination making the hairs on his arms stand on end.

"Dumbledore. Why am I not surprised to see you here?" Voldemort's cold voice was smooth and cultured, casual, like he was dropping in for tea and had arrived slightly late. His tone held a touch of mocking politeness.

Harry inhaled sharply and Bill saw his face contort with pain, one hand pressed to his forehead, more blood trickling down the side of his nose.

"Hello, Tom. We meet again." Dumbledore, on the contrary, sounded almost like he understood Voldemort's figurative lateness. His voice was just as smooth, with the tiniest hint of compassion.

Voldermort's pale face, already waxy and shiny, looked like tight porcelain. He looked around, red eyes flicking towards the group of people huddled at the back. His fleeting glance appeared casual, but Bill still felt the power of that furious gaze burn him.

"Why, Harry," Voldemort said and smiled, showing his teeth. "I can feel you at the back, huddled there with the masses."

He took a few steps inside the chamber. Bill felt Harry shudder beside him, lips drawing back from tightly clenched teeth as he curled forward in pain.

"If you choose to fight tonight, it will be with me," Dumbledore cut in. The hint of compassion from before was absent, replaced by a hard tone which bounced off the walls.

Voldemort looked back to him.

"If you insist," he shrugged, green light shooting out from his wand before he had finished speaking.

Dumbledore cast his own non-verbal spell a split second before. With Voldemort's aim knocked off, the curse hit the wall just a couple of feet from where Bill sat, those around him crying out in alarm.

Snarling, laid-back composure gone, Voldemort fired another jet of green light, this time at Bones. Dumbledore flicked his wand, robe sleeve rippling in the stream of his magic. A barrier of earth shot up in front of Bones and shattered as the Killing Curse smashed into it.

A third jet of green light shot out, streaking towards Dumbledore. Bones waved her wand in an arc and a boulder from the side of the chamber flew up to meet the curse, exploding upon impact. Ignoring both curse and debris, Dumbledore aimed his wand at the nearest torch. As if catching a fish at the end of an invisible fishing line, he lifted the ball of flame and sent it flying towards Voldemort. It morphed into a fiery snake which wrapped itself around Voldemort, but a second later, it fell off him like a long burning rope and vanished.

Voldemort bared his teeth and plunged the tip of his wand into the ground before whipping it upward and out. Even from eighty feet away, Bill felt the strength of that spell as a huge cloud of sand rose.

"Everyone, close your eyes!" Dumbledore shouted over the roar of the oncoming sandstorm.

Despite the hastily erected shields by the Aurors and guards, the scrape of sand left the exposed parts of Bill's body feeling raw and abraded. He heard the others cry out in pain. There was a powerful crackle of magic of Dumbledore's magic and a cool wind swept through the chamber.

Opening his eyes, Bill found the air clear again. Dumbledore swept his wand in a wide arc and all the torches on one wall rose from their brackets, racing towards Voldemort in a wall of flame. Before they could reach him, Voldemort conjured a wave of water, but the flames were unstoppable, forcing him to spin around, black smoke shooting out instead to smother them. He snarled in rage and pointed his wand at the other wall, extinguishing the rest of the torches and plunging the entire chamber into darkness except for a a faint rectangular glow marking the entrance.

Even in the dark, the fighting did not stop. Amidst the clashes of neon bright green and red light, Bill felt Lady Heka shift beside him.

"William, can you spare some magic?" she whispered in his ear.

"Of course, milady." Bill felt her grab his hand and press it palm down on the ground.

"What is it?" Harry whispered from his other side.

The sudden silence made them look up, broken only by fast breathing and the faint crackle of magic along the walls, remnants of previous spell casting. For a second, Bill thought Voldemort had heard their whispered conversation.

Then there was a flash of green light from a different direction. When no counter spell happened, Bill felt the hairs on his neck rise. Despite the line of Aurors and guards in front of him, he felt like a sitting duck. The next Killing Curse erupted from another corner of the chamber, this time streaking towards them. The Aurors conjured a barrier of rock and the spell shattered against it.

"Now," Lady Heka whispered. Her magic, a mere shadow of its former strength, grabbed Bill's and pushed it into the ground. A small circle of white light appeared under their palms and a line shot out from it, streaking between the boots of the Auror in front of them and making for the centre of the chamber.

The chamber, plunged into darkness, was now awash with an eerie white light emerging from the runic circle they had used for the ritual, shooting straight up to form a semi translucent barrier as high as the ceiling. In the middle of it stood Voldemort, red eyes widened in shock as he stared down at the glowing circle at his feet. His head jerked up, those eyes gleaming in such a way that they looked like they were puncturing the veil of power surrounding him.

"What is this?" he hissed. He took a step forward and then another, except the second one was lethargic. With a sound like booming thunder, twin circles of light formed around his ankles, bright and crackling like lightning, shining through his tattered black robes. He took a step outside the circle and the veil of light vanished.

The chamber was once again drowned in darkness, except for the glow at Voldemort's feet, emanating from those crackling manacles, faint, but powerful. Voldemort took yet another step, and it looked like he bore the weight of the world.

- o -

When Bill started his apprenticeship under Lady Heka, the first thing she told him was that one couldn't fight fire without getting to know it first. Bill was young enough to think the phrase rather lame, even clichéd. Until his very first lesson.

Up until this moment, as he stared at Voldemort moving as through in slow motion, Bill still couldn't remember what had happened then. He only remembered spending the next five days in agonising pain, suffering from withdrawal symptoms as he went through detoxification of Dark Magic. He was isolated that first week, in a warm and humid hole inside a chamber, deep within an underground building in Cairo. It was filled with some sort of water just high enough to lap against his ears while he lay down, staring into the dark until he was calm enough to feel like his eyes did exist, instead of feeling like they were burning and sinking to the back of his skull into nonexistence.

Later, when he had healed, Lady Heka told him one had to know how to curse in order to know how to remove it. Bill never knew if that was what he had done.

He didn't feel like he had done so right now.

The circles, specifically The Chains of Life, was one of the Darkest curses Bill had read about. But he didn't feel at all like he would need detoxification after this. He just felt even more exhausted. He knew that was how Voldemort would feel right now, but tiredness would be the least of his problems.

The Chains of Life was a spell created by Aztec priests as an offering to Mother Earth. It was meant to drain away the magic reserves and life force of a person as a humble gift to the Aztec Gods. It was slow, and extremely painful - for in suffering lay the highest honour - but more importantly; it was irrevocable.

"What is this?" Voldemort murmured, his voice sluggish.

No one said anything and he took, with painstaking precision, yet another step. The Chain on that foot crackled, and a few seconds after, another thunder boomed around the chamber. Somewhere deep inside Bill, mixed with the relief he felt, there was, sneaking in, tremulous but secure, the knowledge that this was not yet the end.

For several moments, there was no further movement and then three clouds of red dust bearing glowing reptilian eyes shimmered into existence beside Voldemort and he disappeared. A terrible feeling of dread had filled the air, cold and stagnant, reeking of something that made it difficult to breathe.

Then a ball of warm blue light appeared from the end of Dumbledore's wand and and rose up high, banishing those glowing eyes and shining over the empty circle, painting the definite shadow of death on the pale faces of the Death Eaters lying nearby.

- o -

Harry lay in his stretcher and stared up at the rocky ceiling with its dancing hues of sienna and browns, courtesy of the flickering torches along the walls. The narrow stone hallways leading out of the Great Pyramid seemed far longer to traverse than before.

When he finally emerged from the Great Pyramid, he shivered despite the thick blanket covering him. The desert air was cold and crisp under a cloudless starry sky, blocked by huge black triangles that were the nearby pyramids. Harry was incapable of appreciating the majestic view, his mind lingering on the bodies sprawled on the ground beside the circle. He wasn't sure how many Death Eaters had died tonight and dreaded knowing the exact figure.

After Voldemort left, he had turned to the people around him, their teary eyed grief a stark reminder of their loss tonight. He had told them how sorry he was that he wasn't able to save everyone, but the words felt inadequate to his ears, possibly even unwelcome. He wasn't sure they had heard him; they were already getting up to go retrieve the bodies of the Death Eaters. He felt his words held no significance, fading away to the sibilant sound the wind made as it entered the chamber.

Still feeling wretched and guilty, as if a weight heavier than his exhaustion was pushing him down into the stretcher, Harry lifted his head to look back at the entrance. They were coming out now, some sobbing quietly, a few openly. The bodies of their dead relatives floated behind them, levitated by some of the guards. It was an eerie sight, to see those corpses trailing along like big great lumps, robes flapping in the cold night air.

A sense of déjà vu washed over Harry, making him shiver again. He recalled a similar sight, only it was in the icy forests of the Winterlands, and the corpses were of Viking warriors with missing heads and limbs, all of them devoid of life, yet dripping blood.

How many of the Death Eaters had still been alive after the ritual only to succumb once they had been levitated away?

How many of them had known they would not survive?

What if... Severus was amongst them?

Harry felt his heart clench and squeezed his eyes shut, an even heavier force, reeking of the fear he hadn't allowed himself to feel earlier, swamping him. He remembered coming back from the Calling to find Severus sitting in a pool of blood, attempting to cut off his Dark Mark.

He had that same vision then, as if it was happening all over again, even when he opened his eyes and focused on the tall figure walking beside him, long white beard blowing in the breeze and a serene expression touched with sorrow. Gratitude rose inside Harry for Dumbledore, knowing tonight's outcome would have ended very differently if the old wizard hadn't been here.

As if feeling his gaze, Dumbledore looked down at him.

"Severus... I want to see him," Harry said. If he had been a little bit more coherent at this moment, instead of delirious, he would have cringed at this tone and his disregard.

"We are going to him right now," Dumbledore promised and stayed by Harry's side as the stretcher was carefully levitated onto a waiting barge.

An indefinable wave of something tight and sour lodged in Harry's throat and eyes. If Dumbledore told him that then it meant Severus was alive.

The idea, so contrasting to his fear, left him weak for breath, more so than Voldemort's anger drilling his head did, and a feeling like heartbreak washed over him. He blinked, deeply confused, as two little tears ran down his temples. His desire to see Severus increased together with the sore feeling in his heart as an image of his bondmate, pale but alive, shimmered inside his mind.

In the background Harry could hear Amelia Bones' voice instructing the Aurors to help transport the dead bodies and make sure every Death Eater had been accounted for.

"We will be there soon. Close your eyes and rest now, Harry," Dumbledore urged.

Feeling so weary he could barely move, Harry closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

- Chapter End -

A/N: Thank you for reading!

A note on the fight scene - according to Harry Potter Wiki, the 'Killing Curse can be dodged or physically blocked by an object, such as the statues Dumbledore animated to protect Harry Potter during his duel with Voldemort after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries'.

On another note, we have finally, finally tied up a huge loose end JD left us, namely the removal of the Dark Mark. It's not quite done yet; there's a tiny hint if you can spot it. This chapter was another exercise in blood, sweat and tears so please, please review and make us smile, OK?