Chapter 37 – Two Step Forward

Hello friends. It is so much fun to see others enjoying this story as much as I do. Set in direct continuation after the previous chapter, this one is actually a bit late. I'd wanted to have it out by the end of last month, but then FF hit me with a wall whenever I tried to log on, so it was a complete wash. Still, points for effort, I hope.

Thank you, Artur Hawking, HowInMadHowie, Lycan01, Silvermane1, reveress-plegue, Dovahkiinwolfghost7, dfcole, and shugokage for your reviews and thoughts. Hope you and my other readers like this next chapter.

As always, Read and Review, people!

Amelia looked down at her self-appointed task of keeping a watch on the interactive model of the Malfoy Manor and grounds, to note any incoming anomalies. But after a while, her thoughts turned inwards and the guilt she had been keeping at bay raised its inevitable head.

Amelia knew deep down that sending just that one young man out to fight against the sort of odds Malfoy had mentioned was the wrong thing to do. She had manipulated him into fighting for them, using his family against him. Now amongst the senior most officials in the Ministry, she had always prided herself on being one of the very few incorruptible members of the Wizarding government. She had sworn never to use another being in the wars they waged on those factions of society that brought chaos in the world. More so, ever since the real reason for Dumbledore's control of Harry's life had been revealed, she had resolved never to go down that same road. Never to put Harry in the same position again.

And now here she was, sitting safely inside the walls and wards of Malfoy Manor surrounded by Harry's family and friends, watching that same young man waiting for their common enemy.

"Do you think he will forgive me?" she asked Sirius quietly, approaching him where he stood at one of the large bay windows, looking out at where they could see Harry standing with his arms raised, a lilting chant just audible over the distance.

The Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black looked across at her, the question clear in his expression.

She looked away, shifting back into the darkness of the heavy curtains. "I behaved no differently than Dumbledore back then, manipulating him into fighting for us again. There's no denying that on such short notice, he is our best fighter and the best chance of us coming out of this with both a victory and some answers." She looked up at the Lord Black. "But… will he hate me for it?"

Sirius said nothing as he turned back to the sight of his godson, now standing in a cloud of thick smoke lapping at his feet. "Honestly, I do not think there is any way you could have kept him out of this fight. His family is here after all. And there is the threat to Hermione. He would never leave his sister to face that on her own. He probably knows he's been manipulated, by his family no less. But there's a difference between not being given a choice and taking that choice on one's own. And if I know Harry at all, it is likely he will already have forgotten." He turned his head to the Bones Regent, "And forgiven."

"Harry would have been out there anyway. You'd not even have had to convince him, except that you were here and made your play. He knew what he would have to do from the moment that Susan contacted him with the new information. In fact, you wouldn't have been able to keep him out of this fight."

Teddy's certainty and faith in his godfather rang true in the hearts of his friends and family. The boy may have had a hero complex, but the man could back it up with some seriously heavy firepower. With that confidence in his abilities, none of them had even the shadow of a doubt of Harry's own choice in this conflict.

Amelia nodded to the young man, the named Heir to the Black House and thanked him, the tight bands of doubt and guilt that clenched her chest, loosening enough to allow her to breathe with the knowledge that maybe what she had done wasn't altogether wrong. With a clearer conscience came a stronger belief in Harry himself and she returned to her scrutiny of the model of the Manor and the surrounding Estate with a lighter heart.

Meanwhile, standing outside under the gentle light of the quarter moon, Harry, having jauntily waved to his family watching from the windows, cracked his metaphoric knuckles, ready to set his plans into action. Ascending into Eclipse, he became little more than shadow, as he raised his arms to the night sky and chanted the words that Azazel whispered in his mind. It was a lilting melodic chant that drifted in the still night air, spreading across the grounds aided by the magical pressure that Eclipse was generating.

Around him, his favourite element grew and thickened, the black smoke curling and jumping around his legs, eager as a litter of gamboling puppies. When the song tapered off, Eclipse brought down his arms and looked at the smoke. With a sharp motion, like he was skipping stones across a lake, he pushed the smoke away, sending it out and around him. At some invisible point, when it was all stretched out over the grounds, it sank into the earth, leaving behind a thin layer of ashes.

Eclipse turned his mad fiery eyes to the only other person who had insisted on coming out to help him. "Are you sssure you are rrready forrr thisss?"

There were no clouds in the sky and the moon shone down from behind the Manor, casting its shadow over the front grounds. It was near enough to midnight that the moon was already old in its path, but the shadows were no less effective for it. From out of these shadows stepped the familiar form of Remus Lupin, Harry's uncle and honorary godfather. He stepped up to the demon and nodded.

Eclipse's grin was that of a shark that has scented blood in the waters. His arms covered with cold white flames, he laid one hand on Remus' head and the other on his lower back. There was nothing visible happening, but seconds later, Remus screamed.

The scream chilled everyone listening inside the Manor and they rushed to the windows. Out on the front lawns was Remus, screaming as his body was forced through the change, his bones and muscles cracked and broken only to be remade. It was horrifying to hear and more than gruesome to watch. Only the fact that the Manor was on complete lockdown prevented anyone from leaving its confines to go to Remus' aid.

Minutes later, when the change was complete, and a panting werewolf lay on the grass, Eclipse forced the white flames off his arms and onto Remus' body. Not expecting this, the werewolf sprang up, rolling in the grass, his first frightened flight response triggered by the instinctive fear of fire. But then the mind of the man kicked in and he stopped trying to beat off the flames, watching as they were slowly absorbed into his body, healing him. He could feel their warmth deep in his muscles and bones, as they healed the aches and pains and soothed his tired frame. As the last of the warmth burnt out, Remus lifted his muzzle to the moon and howled his joy to the heavens.

The watching demon smiled at him as much as a demon could smile. Remus bared his teeth at him in a wolfish grin, but then his enhanced hearing picked up a sound near the gates of Malfoy Estate. He whined and snarled, but waited for Eclipse to make his move.

"I'm going to give you some playmates, Moony," rasped the demon, shedding smoke like a cat sheds fur. He moulded the smoke with his hands, making it denser and compact, giving it a definite form, until a large wolf stood in its place, the swirling smoke giving outline to his shape. Satisfied with his work, Eclipse snapped his fingers and the smoke multiplied around him, forming a circle, before melting away to reveal ten beasts of ashes and flame.

Standing at shoulder height to Eclipse and about chest height to Remus' werewolf form, each of these wolves were made of demonic magic, mixed with a twisted golem magic. Unlike golems that had to be powered by an enchanted object that worked as a heart and was controlled by the one who raised the golems, these wolves had no hearts, and were instead powered by the flames they carried in their chests. Their eyes were filled with a pale blue light that shone with an unearthly glow against the darkness. Their bodies were formed of smoke and felsic rock, through the gaps of which their inner blue-white fire could be seen. They had a ridge of sharp obsidian shards along their backs, and their teeth and nails were also of obsidian and sharp as talons. At the ends of all their tails was a single needle sharp piece of dark blue magical benitoite that was soaked in a special poison.

Harry re-emerged for a moment, looking at the Grim-like wolves with satisfaction. He looked up at the werewolf towering over him by a head. "You should be able to run with these guys. You already know one just like them."

Remus whuffed a laugh at Harry, then rumbled at the wolves. The large beasts gathered together behind the werewolf who, with a nod to his nephew/godson, led them off deeper into the shadows.

By now the sounds coming from the direction of the gates were clearer. Even in the house, most of the residents were huddles around the model, watching the thick group of red dots coming up from the gates and over the grounds. Outside, the raven haired man faded into the shadows and snuck up behind the approaching intruders.

"That was easier than I expected. Never thought I'd see the day that the Malfoy Estate would be open to all comers."

"Things were different in Lucius' day," replied another voice, as they all crunched on as silently as possible along the garden path that was the entrance through the grounds to the Manor. "We would have been met at the gates by a house-elf then, to ask permission to enter. Getting into the Manor was more of a challenge. If you didn't have a valid reason for petitioning to see him, you couldn't get in the front door."

"Aye, but everything's different now. That whelp betrayed his family and married that mudblood. Ever since Lucius died in the service of our Lord, the Malfoy name has lost its power. Did you feel those wards? They were a joke! No self-respecting Malfoy would ever live like this. But Draco fell early into the clutches of that mudblood and her friends."

"Then perhaps, it is time to remind him of his true allegiances and bring him back to his true place in our society. And if it's a wench he wants, then he can have his pick of them." His companions laughed, but behind them, their eavesdropper had frozen.

For that was a voice Harry knew quite well.

There had been a time during the war when that voice was the only sound he'd hear. Time had stopped having any meaning in that place, surrounded as he was by the sounds of misery, his head filled with the images of cruelty that Voldemort sent him through their link, along with his pleasure in the despair of his favourite prisoner. And in that rank dungeon, he had one regular visitor. One voice that still connected him to his identity as a human. Talking to him softly in between the hours of torture, telling him stories of magic and fantasy, excitedly relating the latest bout of horror its owner had visited upon some unsuspecting innocent people. But the worst was the times when he would come to his dungeon cell, freshly soaked in the blood of whichever young woman had been 'awarded' to him that day. And he would sit there in front of Harry, and tell him what he had done to and with his unfortunate victim. And Harry – knowing that it must have been one of the many women dragged away, screaming and struggling, before his cell, as if being paraded with a look at all the people he had failed to save – would try in futility, not to remember their faces, drawn forever in a grimace of terror in his mind.

That was Antonin Dolohov.

Harry snarled quietly as he watched the man he hated even beyond Tom Riddle. He hadn't known then, but throughout his captivity, Dolohov had sent photographs of his battered and burnt body, in various states of degradation and abuse, to the only other Potter sibling, having first ensured that only she would be able to see them in their true form. While physically playing with Harry's body, he had kept up a continuous mental assault on Hermione, until the poor girl, already distraught over the War, her responsibility as a leader of the Resistance, and her brother's long disappearance, had broken down.

It had been a hard road back to full recovery, and Harry's eventual defeat of Voldemort had certainly helped, but what had been done could never be taken back. Hermione had retained a healthy fear of Antonin Dolohov and an even bigger one of loosing the only other member of her family; Dan and Emma Granger had been killed by the Death Eaters long ago. It was a long while before she'd been able to be comfortable with Harry not being in her direct line of sight. He couldn't be allowed to hurt Hermione again.

Taking strength from that decision, Harry reined in his anger and locked his emotions away. When he had done so, he tuned in to his surroundings again, and realized that the Death Eaters had not come alone. A favourite tactic of theirs' was to bring along the Dementors, no matter how redundant that tactic had become during the War. But if their conversation was anything to go by, then they expected security in general to have gone down over the years, which would make a Dementor attack quite effective against the regular public.

Well, unless you were Harry Potter.

Moving through the shadows, he returned to his position in front of the house, simultaneously sending a mental message to Draco to not let Hermione look out the windows and why. Then he closed his eyes and spreading his magical senses, located the Dementors. They appeared to have been spread throughout the grounds, only freeing their aura to roil across the entirety of the estate. Everyone, including the house residents and the Death Eaters could feel the growing chill in the air, but the soul-eaters remained on the edge of their senses, behaving more like guardians or perhaps backup.

Harry bounced on the balls of his feet and rolled his shoulders, teeth bared in a grin. He knew exactly how to welcome his guests.

Swiftly spread the fires red

Will turns fire to ash

Fire fills the ashes

To come dancing at my Will.

Harry spun that chant thrice, red sparks jumping between his fingers and at at the end the sparks dove to the earth. The ground rumbled and ruptured, earth breaking all over the vast grounds as fiery creatures dug their way through to the top. Made of fire and ashes, these creatures looked reptilian, with elongated snouts, skeletal but sinuous bodies, and prehensile tails. Once free of the earth, they rushed towards the Dementors with otherworldly speed, snarling and chittering at their prey. Azazel translated some of their comments for Harry, making him snicker at the creatures' eagerness to get some 'tasty bones'.

Two or three of them worked together to bring down a single soul-eater, using their powerful tails to trip them up, and tearing through those foul tattered robes with fiery claws and teeth. Loud crunching echoed through the night as the Dementor bones were demolished by the strength of the Firedancers.

For once in their indestructible lives, the Dementors knew what fear and pain felt like, and their tormented screeches could be heard across the grounds. The Death Eaters stopped in their tracks, bunching together in uncertainty, whispering to each other. None of them had ever heard of anything that could make soul-eaters cry out in pain and the high, thin screeching could be indicative of nothing else.

Dolohov gave the order to spread out, and now Harry could see that there were about 35 visitors to the Manor this night. They remained at a considerable distance from the building proper, but they stayed away from the trees. Muscle memory of Lucius' pets was a helpful factor indeed. Harry was sure that the men would have started casting various ward schemes or traps had they not been startled out of their collective concentrations by the fearsome sight of fleeing Dementors heading straight for them, being chased by no creature of Earth that they had ever seen.

Spread out as they were, the Dementor in the lead latched on to the first Death Eater it was drawn to and began voraciously sucking the soul out of him. Harry felt a bit sorry for the unfortunate man, but, really, it was their own fault to bring pets they couldn't put on a leash.

A sharp whistle pierced the air, making the Death Eaters look about them for the source. But not too hard since they were trying to not have their souls sucked out as well. Already there were three soulless bodies lying inert on the ground, and the invading force could spare no more. It was a good thing then that the whistle made the Dementors back off and retreat into the woods. The Death Eaters slumped slightly in relief, resting where they stood, looking around wearily for the whistler.

"Hello boys," called a cheery voice from the shadows.

"Who's there?" shouted one of the Death Eaters. "Show yourself."

"Well, if you insist," said the voice, and a hand appeared in mid air, fingers wiggling at the men. "I'm right here."

"Why not meet us face to face? Are you afraid of what we might do to you?" the men chuckled at that.

"Actually, I'd be a bit afraid of what I'm going to do you. But to each their own, I suppose."

"Is that so?" sneered the leader. "You sound young, so I suspect you may not have heard of us. Step forward and greet your betters, boy!"

"Damn. That's torn it," mumbled Sirius, listening as intently to the conversation outside as were the rest.

"Boy, is it? Well, close but no cigar. And as for you, I already know what you are, if not who you are. Call yourselves 'Death Eaters', don't you? Catchy moniker." There was a sound of someone clapping. "And now that you haven't had to introduce yourselves, let me tell you who I am. Perhaps you've heard the name."

He stepped out of the shadows and into the light of the moon in full view of his visitors, several of whom were gawking at his appearance.

"Harry Potter." He winked. "Catchy too, innit?"

"Potter. I thought you'd been forbidden from setting foot into England. Have you gained a death wish since you were exiled from here?"

Harry laughed heartily. "Look at you. So worried about me." He wiped away a few tears mockingly. "Thank you for asking, but I go where I wish and I doubt anyone can stop me. Including, I do believe, all of you gentlemen trapaising about this estate."

"This is Malfoy's property, Potter, and no concern of yours."

"It is if I'm a guest of the Malfoys. Besides, I'm bored and you're just in time to join in my new game!" he grinned maniacally, his ascendant personality bleeding into his human form.

The men drew back a bit watching the young man before them. His eyes were now a deep shining black and his teeth had turned sharp like a vampire. The more magically sensitive among them had sensed the wind that had centered on Potter. It moved nothing around them, but Potter himself stood there in the middle of his own storm.

"And what game would that be?"

"Why, Death Eater Hunting, of course!" Harry laughed at their dumbfounded faces, but all expression was soon wiped away when they heard the baying of wolves in the distance. "Sounds like my friends will be here soon."

"They have yet a while to get here. In the meanwhile, why don't we see how tough you are, boy? You can talk as big as you want, but I don't see you doing anything but standing there. But the way I see it, if all you're going to do is stand there and talk, you might as well let me use you as target practice for your little wolf friends. What do you say to that?"

Harry looked at the speaker and smiled. "Antonin Dolohov. Just the man I wanted to see. Target practice, you say? Seems you've forgotten you were cut into pieces the last you tried to throw your wand at me."

"You had help then. Plus it was a battle. Stray spells flying around the place. Could have been anyone that hit me. What's to say you could do it today, when you're here all on your lonesome?"

"Very well, Dolohov. If that's how you want to play it, fine. But you will at least tell me how you're standing here alive when you're supposed to be dead."

The Death Eater smirked. "Death is a matter of perspective, isn't it? Depends on what looks like dead to who. Which means, you probably missed that last time."

Harry cocked his head at that. "Then I'll make sure of it this time."

"You can try."

He waved a dismissive hand at that. "Oh, its not the trying that's difficult, not really. It's deciding exactly how to do it." He raised a hand and pulled it into a fist, startling the Death Eater when a glowing blue dome snapping into place around him and Dolohov, cutting them off from the others. "Shall we begin?"

The Death Eater snarled and snapped off a spell chain of the deadliest spells that had been used in the war - the Blood Boiling Curse, the Curse of Paralysis followed by a Petrification Hex, a series of Crucios and one or two Killing Curses - while crouching and then rolling to his left, his wand already moving in quick silent patterns. Outside the dome the other 32 Death Eaters were busy fending off the pack of wolves that had emerged silently from the darkness under the woods. Harry, having completely dodged his opponent's first attack, had yet to raise a wand.

Two men lost their lives to the resident werewolf, bellies ripped and gutted while they were still alive and screaming, until a blue wolf tore out their throats. The pack tore into the rest, clawing at the frail flesh and tearing away bloody morsels right from the bone. Many a time someone tried to attack a wolf fom behind, only to be struck with the tail, its stone end leaving a rather lethal dose of a synthesized venom of Harry's creation in the body.

A little known fact of the magical world was that Phoenixes, like everyting else in the world were also creatures that represented both sides of the scales of Light and Dark. Fawkes, as a fire phoenix could not only heal through his tears, but could also destroy with his fire. Similarly, a black phoenix like Nyx was capable of producing two very different types of magical tears. Those for healing, like all phoenixes, and those that were pure poison. If a dark phoenix was to weep its tears of poison directly onto a person's wound, that person would be dead within seconds. And there was no cure for it.

Harry, having discovered this ability through his connection with Nyx, had requested of her to be allowed to harvest her poisonous tears. Unlike the healing tears which had greatest potency when used fresh, tears of poison had a long shelf life. Through years of experimentation, Harry had created several potions and poisons with Nyx's noxious tears as an ingredient and it was one of these that he'd used today.

A smug smirk lifted his lips as he looked over at Dolohov. "Are you done already?"

"Haven't even started Potter. But you'll know I'm done when I'm standing over your cooling corpse with the blood of that little bitch of Malfoy's at my feet where it belongs."

"Is that right? Well then, you'll be happier to know that the woman you're talking about is actually my sister."

Dolohov's mouth hung open in scornful surprise. "You adopted that mudblood bitch!"

"Proudly."

"Then I guess this is going to be my lucky day." He made a final slash in the air, and several runes lit up in fire. With a flick of the wand, Dolohov sent half of them towards his opponent, and the other half to the blue dome around them.

Recognizing Dolohov's intent, Harry decided to fight fire with fire. Bringing his hands together, he ignited a bluebell flame between his palms and blew on it. As the fiery runes approached, he separated his hands, the single flame expanding as though manipulated with an Engorgio Charm. The Death Eater watched with amazement as his runes were effortlessly swallowed by the bluebell flame and extinguished in a burst of sparks.

One man smirked; the other snarled.

"Serpes Escaldantes. Hradby. Expulso."

Harry laughed. "Nicely done, Antonin. My turn. I'll even give you a sporting chance." Without hesitation he cast swiftly, "Impedimenta Totalum. Glacius. Confringo."

The Death Eater watched in shock as the irritating man opposing him countered his spells with ease, even without using a wand. He wrote a quick set of runes into the earth at his feet and pointing his wand straight down incanted, "Tero Ĉenoj. Värin."

The raven haired man actually clapped. "Impressive. Most impressive. I didn't know you Death Eaters could perform elemental spells. But I'll have to disappoint you yet again. Gāzt Ķēdes. Paz. Oh, and, Iniquitatem. Can't have you dismantling my shield while my wolves are still finishing up with the rest of your men."

Enraged, Dolohov cast his signature Flame Cutting Curse at the other man, having just enough time to cast it before he was forced to give his complete attention to defending himself from his own magic when his earth chains turned on him. He almost missed it when Potter completely overturned his analytical runic array from disecting the dome they were trapped in.

"Congratulations, Potter," he sneered, after destroying the elemental chains. "It looks like you've learned some magic after all. Or has your adopted sister been doing your research for you, as usual?"

"Oh, no more than usual, Antonin. But I tend to do my own work now that I'm a big boy." He fired off a Jelly-Legs Jinx, just to irritate the other man.

Never one able to keep his temper, Dolohov let fly a slew of Killing Curses at the erstwhile Boy-Who-Lived, interspersed with wide area Cutting and Slashing Hexes, all of which Harry was forced to avoid. Not accustomed with the idea of his prey simply avoiding his spells, Dolohov cast Bone Breaking Hexes, Gutting and Disemblowelment Curses, Muscle Melting Curses, Hellfire Hexes, elemental entrapment spells; in fact anything he could think of that would force Harry to stay in one place so he could cast Flaying Curses over and over again until his prey bled to death.

Harry tutted at him, swatting aside the Dark spells with a conjured Muggle racquet. Each spell hit the blue dome with a hiss, dissipating upon contact. Then he turned the racquet into a walking stick and rested his weight on it, waving his hand toward the other man in a blatant invitation to continue.

In reply, he found himself facing a wall of Fiendfyre, filled with rearing and bucking gryphons, plunging thestrals, and hissing snakes. He laughed aloud. "Really, Antonin. Are you tired already? Or desperate? Or both? Seems like you're either the same ignorant, two-bit, grovelling excuse for a wizard you were years ago, or you just didn't see the need to brush up on current events."

With a wave of his hand, Harry cast a simple first year spell. "Aguamenti."

Dolohov scoffed. "You think you can put out Fiendfyre with that charm? You're still the same imbecilic child Potter. I never understood why Our Lord thought you could ever oppose him."

"Except that now he is dead. And as for the Fiendfyre being a match for me, Antonin, I think not." Harry voice was soft and barely audible over the hissing of flames fighting against being extinguished. But the will of the caster was stronger, as was his magic, and soon the magical fires died out.

But while Harry was busy putting out the Fiendfyre, Dolohov had cast his runic array at the dome again and at the moment the last flame died out, he raised his wand to the crux of the shield above them and shouted, "Dirumpe!"

Harry was too late in casting the counter spell and blue light of his spell sped away into a sky that was lightening. Dawn wasn't too far off.

"Well, it seems your attack has failed, Antonin Dolohov. You are defeated, and your, uh, colleagues are dead," Harry indicated the butchered bodies lying around them, withing a circle of watching wolves. "You may as well admit defeat, surrender and agree to be taken in by the DMLE. Maybe I can get an year cut off from your double life sentence in Azkaban."

The Death Eater laughed. "You think this is the end, do you Potter? Then you would be mistaken."

Dolohov cast a high powered Wind Blast elemental spell at Harry, and used the few seconds it took Harry to recover to draw a quick set of runes into the air around him. Then from the last point, drew his wand back across whatever he had written, joining some dots only he could see and when his wand reached the point where he had started, he cut his wand through the air pointing right at Harry. The air between them sizzled as several runes came into view, burning where they hung suspended with power, even as the spell they had powered rushed with the speed of wings towards their target wearing the dark amber-purple hue that signified only one kind of craft.

In seconds, the human and the observing demon had identified the runic array and what they meant. Horrified at what they were facing, Harry and Azazel combined their powers and held out their hands before them, shouting together, "Vahan e kendani Asttso!"

Black energy edged with silver burst forth from Harry's hands, creating a shield between him and the approaching Dark spell. It was an old Armenian spell, developed by the warlocks and sorcerers of a bygone era who had to deal with Fallen creations of a foul Darkness. They had fought back against them and won, but at a huge price. By the end of the war, their lives and their land were cursed, and the remaining magic users spent the rest of their natural lives working on this one spell that would cleanse the taint of sins from the land and bring hope to the future.

In their search for new knowledge, they turned to the religion of the Muggles of their time, drawing magic from their faith and powering this single spell with it. They called it the 'Shield of the Living God'. It was the first ever recorded spell that had been used successfully against that Darkest craft: Necromancy.

Having shored up the shield to deflect the Dark Curse, demon and host gathered their energy once more to cast a more recent spell to contain it. Harry spread his arms wide and intoned, "Eiliminteach Sciath um Chosaint Dhiaga!" Essentially, the 'Elemental Shield of Divine Protection'.

Drawing upon the magical energy of the elements and chanelling it through his own body, Harry became a conduit through which the spell was transformed into a sentient entity that worked to destroy anything of evil intent. It was a Druidic spell, and had not been cast in several centuries because it took a lot of energy and magical power to both cast and control the spell. As it was, depite being magically stronger because of his status as Apprentice and the aid of Azazel's own powers, Harry shuddered under the weight of the magic coursing through him.

It was only after several long minutes that he finally felt the last vestiges of the Dark magic being eradicated, and he fell to the ground exhausted, allowing the circle of magic to be completed and its energies to dissipate. His wolves came to sit around him in a circle, each touching a part of his body, returning their borrowed magic and strengthening their maker. Moony flopped down beside him too, panting from a bloody muzzle, but his amber eyes were clear and intelligent. Harry smiled and pet the werewolf, content to just sit in peace for a while and watch the sunrise.

But as they sat there in companionable silence, both Harry and Azazel knew that though this fight was over, it was but a precursor to something altogether more dangerous brewing beneath the veneer of the world. And though they vowed to stand against it, they only hoped that their family would come through it on the other side. Together, as always.

Okay, so I've stopped it there, even though I'm not completely sure about the ending. I do hope that you all like how this chapter has proceeded. I've used a few spells here that I think were new even in the fandom, so those I've given below.

As always, do read and review!

Spells in this chapter:

Serpes Escaldantes – Scalding Snakes

Hradby – Earth Wall

Expulso – Explode

Impedimenta Totalum – Area wide slow down

Glacius – Solidify into ice

Confringo – Explode flames

Tero Ĉenoj – Earth Chains

Värin – Tremor

Gāzt Ķēdes – Subvert Chains

Paz – Peace

Iniquitatem – Overturn

Dirumpe – Break Asunder