Harry Potter & the Child of Phoenix

Disclaimer: We've discussed this. I don't own anything! Except for the plot and the characters you've never heard of. They're mine. Mine.

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Warning: Keeping with the theme of gore, violence, death and tragedy here. I think I need professional help, preferably something involving chocolate and puppies (right, Katie? ;) ). Also, there is some crude humor ahead that will span through the next story and the sequel. You've been warned!

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Chapter Thirty-Six: The Messenger (aka, Men Were Deceivers Ever, Part I)

Golradir smacked his lips and began lithely circling Spiridon, the General cautiously mimicking his stance. "Still the council's little lap dog, I see." Harry could see him thumbing the hilt of the sword thoughtfully as Spiridon's grip tightened on the Scepter.

"Like the new body?" Golradir presented, motioning to himself. "Don't worry; I'm not into rent-to-own anymore."

"Let my son go." Demanded Spiridon.

"Ha!" The Bellotaur snorted. "Your son? Pretentious bastard, aren't you? You're even more deluded than I originally thought. I am so ready to give you a taste of your own medicine."

Harry groaned in pain when Golradir stepped on his thigh as he passed. "Less bark, more bite, you parasite." He heard Spiridon's low growl.

Golradir nodded his head decisively and pursed his lips, his golden eyes bright and mischievous. "If you insist."

The two lunged at each other with dual war cries, metal ringing in the air as sword and scepter clashed in a display of bright sparks and steel. Harry cringed as the men moved fluidly above and around him and Ella and the remaining prisoners, their grunts of battle echoing throughout the forest. He couldn't tell whom from whom as the noises all sounded the same to him, but he noticed the binds around him slacken a little bit each time Golradir seemed to be bested.

At last, Harry felt the roots release him just enough and the warmth of his magic flooding his body as a blue light lit up the clearing, followed by a loud crash against one of the trees. Without hesitation, he willed the twine to worm away and blasted the last roots off of Ella with a spell. Wordlessly, she grabbed his hand and followed him to the safety of the thick trees, dodging jets of light from both savagely brawling Beings and leaping over corpses. Harry pushed her head down as a nasty purple torrent crashed overhead, raining splinters all over them.

"We've got to get out of here," he breathed, shaking off the wooden shavings. When Ella opened her mouth to protest, Harry quickly delivered, "D'you want to get killed?"

Her expression soured, and she looked extremely peeved to be thwarted. Harry sighed, cursing inwardly as Spiridon and Golradir fought mere feet away from them, the heat of their attacks making the air crackle. "I want to help him, too," he exasperatedly confessed, "but he'd kill us as soon as look at us!"

Ella's eyes glittered darkly and her lips were a tight, thin, disapproving line. Harry was unnerved at how much of Mrs. Weasley he could see in that expression now. "He's your broth—"

Movement in the brush caught Harry's eye and he quickly turned toward it. Before he could even get his wand at ready he was shoving Ella away from him as an explosion of green light hurtled in his direction, immediately destroying the tree behind them. Harry's feet failed him as he tried to get up and he tumbled into a ditch, landing in a crumpled heap.

He groaned, spitting out a mouthful of mud and grass as he struggled to his feet. The dazzling lights from the warring Celestials illuminated the darkened grounds as the moon was suddenly masked by thick clouds, but Harry could already see that it would be incredibly difficult to get up the steep ledge by himself. Luckily, his problem was short-lived.

"Harry!" He heard Ella call for him aboveground. Her vivid red hair appeared first over the ridge followed by her concerned expression. "Are you—?"

"Fine," he replied, swallowing thickly as he spotted Jojo's discarded body not too far from him. "But I can't get up there by myself." He accepted her offered hand and with her help, was pulled over fairly quickly, just in time for his blood to boil at the sight across the clearing.

"Bellatrix!" he hissed, nearly falling over the edge again as he unintentionally released the witch's hand. Harry clambered over the ledge and darted around the trees and into sight, momentarily forgetting the scuffle blazing before him. Spiridon was sporting a gash above one eye but it hadn't slowed him down. Golradir had once again changed into the scarlet-eyed creature, nearly foaming at the mouth as he snapped his jaws and swung Hryczuk's sword with deadly promise.

But Harry didn't care about that; his gaze immediately sought out the crazed dark witch standing across the glade, the shadows on her face more prominent and pale in the flashing lights from the Scepter. Her eyes looked as haunted and unhinged as they had in the Department of Mysteries and her knuckles were white, attesting to how firm her hold on her wand was. Harry's own wand felt slick and hot in his hand as he squeezed it, glaring at the Dark-wending witch. Bellatrix's gaze never left Voldemort; she probably hadn't even cared that her husband was dead.

And suddenly, Bellatrix gave an ear-splitting shriek and fell to the ground. Voldemort and Mystikos soon crumpled after and Harry briefly wondered if the Aurors and Dumbledore had arrived before he felt the searing fire in his blood return with a vengeance. His knees painfully hit the ground and he thrashed around on the earth, fighting the liquid fire that seemed to consume his body.

"You fool," he heard Golradir's harsh voice pressing down on the air. "You can't win and you're a fool to think that I'd make the same mistake twice." Harry gasped sharply as the pain receded to a dull, niggling ache. He boldly raised his eyes to survey the scene: Ella was twitching on the ground not ten feet away from him, her red hair matted and caked with dirt and debris. The Lamia and Hryczuk were practically snarling, despite the visible trembling fit they seemed to be fighting.

Bellatrix had scrambled to her feet, wand raised and the Killing Curse halfway spoken before Mystikos pushed her wand down and gave her an admonitory look. She lowered her wand, rather unwillingly, after a curt, confirming nod from Voldemort.

Harry's eyes were drawn back to the Bellotaur, who seemed to have some sort of power over the General as Spiridon kneeled on the ground before him, the Ravenstone Scepter's glow deadened and just about lifeless in his hand. He was breathing unevenly, and Harry could see the muscles in his neck stretched taut from Golradir's torment. His appearance was disheveled and Spiridon wore a number of cuts and bruises on his face. Though in the face of Golradir's fury and self-assurance, the General only exhibited the boldest defiance.

Golradir's mouth stretched into a villainous smirk, his triumph apparent. "You've got guts, stable-hand," he softly began, his fingers curling around the hilt of Hryczuk's blade in a calm dance of anticipatory victory. Spiridon remained quiet, his breaths now sharp and his brow soaking wet from the strain. The Bellotaur airily chuckled as he leaned close to the Celestial, leveling them eye to eye. Harry swallowed at the malice in his gaze.

The beast sneered. "You held him back, ruined his life, his childhood and happiness... All of that," his calm voice carried over the steamy air, "...for nothing. Way to go, dad." Golradir stood to his full height, smirk firmly in place as Spiridon glowered at him and twitched. The blade made a decisive 'whoosh' sound as Golradir raised it and hissed, "It's time to surrender; to say goodbye, pathetic victor o' mine."

Harry's eyes widened as the angry General's face split into a grin. Wasn't the man about to die? What could he possibly be smiling about? Movement from Spiridon made Harry's brow furrow as the Scepter appeared to have lost power and Spiridon's free hand was tangled in his robes. Across the way, Harry could see that Bellatrix, Mystikos and Voldemort were riveted to the scene, their wands lowered and their eyes cautiously narrowed.

"You fought a good fight, but not nearly good enough. Any last words, Spardonosos?" Golradir prompted, sword raised and expression annoyed, as if he grudgingly had to honor the General.

His mouth curling upward at one corner, Spiridon casually replied, "Yes." A slight crease formed between Golradir's beaded eyebrows as glittering gold eyes graced the dark-haired General with a skeptical look.

"Well?" The Bellotaur barked, his impatience evident as his fingers drummed restlessly on the hilt of the sword. "Get it over with, stable-hand, and say your goodbyes already."

Harry swallowed as the disturbing smile never faltered on the man's face. The wind rustled his heavy cloak and Harry could barely see his other hand dug deep into his robes, his hand grasping firmly at something, something unseen, something deadly.

With a slight nod of his head, Spiridon uttered, "Goodbye."

Faster than Harry could blink, Spiridon whipped out his black wand, pointed directly between the Bellotaur's eyes and shouted, "EXPULSUM PERVASOR!" before Golradir had even registered what had happened.

With a loud 'thud', Hryczuk's sword clattered to the ground and Golradir's hands grabbed tufts of his red hair as he violently shook his head and belted an earth-shattering cry, a beaten cry that shook the earth and caused the trees to flail as the wind whipped them.

"NO!" Harry whirled around and grabbed Ella before she dove into the brilliant shield of magic, desperately trying to keep a hold on her as she struggled to fight him off. "Don't kill him!"

"Ella! Ella, no!" Harry yelled, clawing at her clothes and careless as to whether he'd seized her so tight that she'd bruise.

"He's gonna kill him!"

But for some reason, Harry didn't think so. No matter how much deception and trickery Spiridon had done, he didn't think the man would have it in him to kill the Being. Somehow the Gryffindor knew Spiridon would die before he'd murder Kaltagonus, even if the Bellotaur possessed him.

"He's not," he breathlessly whispered into her ear, his arm thrown across her middle and pulling her tightly to his chest. "He won't." Soon after, the fight left her, but between the thundering noise from the wind and the roar of Golradir, Harry thought her dry sobs were the loudest.

Golradir's mouth stretched in his unnatural scream, and he fell to his knees; Harry could see the intense spasm of his muscles clenching and unclenching, his hands tensing so hard around his skull Harry was afraid he'd crack it with his bare hands. Spiridon held his wand on the golden-eyed beast, waves of refulgent light pulsing from his rod and seemingly swirling around the writhing Bellotaur in some sort of Containment Spell.

As Spiridon muttered a constant stream of Latin and Greek under his breath, Harry's eyes noted a shift from the other side of the clearing. The Dark Lord and Bellatrix were sneering at the display, his crimson eyes flashing with dark glee and her wild eyes darting around the area. Her behavior was skittish as usual, and she was clutching her wand in one hand and something bulky in the other.

Voldemort was scowling, probably displeased that he didn't get a shot at the Bellotaur himself, his pointy nostrils flaring and his ruby eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. He stared at Golradir's fit as if studying a chessboard to weigh his next move when his eyes finally met Harry's. If possible, they narrowed even further—Harry happily returned the look—before they unexpectedly widened and his old, familiar smirk began to unfold.

"Ouch!" Harry flinched as his scar gave a sharp flare, reviving his headache, and he pressed it against Ella's cool hair to relieve it slightly as his hands were full. Harry knew that smirk meant trouble; trouble for him, at least. Before he could read more into the dark sorcerer's look, Bellatrix ducked into the brush, Voldemort and his minions quickly following after. "Voldemort!" Not one to give them escape without chase, Harry released Ella and bolted after them, ignoring the witch's calls and darting around the sizeable dome a sweating Spiridon had created to surround the Bellotaur and tore into the bushes.

It wasn't hard to track them: the trees stirred with disturbance and Hryczuk's stench could make a skunk cry foul. Harry batted away the leafy claws and fought to keep them in sight, grateful for the intensifying orange glow lighting his path as they closed in on Hogsmeade village. "Voldemort!" He grunted, peevishly hoping the dark wizard would trip on his robes and fall face first into a thorny bush.

A blast of red light lit up the darkness and gave him pause. Harry ducked low to avoid being hit by the curse; Bellatrix's dry cackle was unmistakable. Gripping his wand tighter, Harry rose to full height and continued his pursuit. He had to dodge several more spells sent his way (some harmless, others unmentionably deadly) from both Bellatrix and Voldemort's throaty yells. They didn't seem to be slowing down at all as Harry continued his dodge and run tactics.

Unfortunately, the group only seemed to quicken their pace toward the ginger glow, and the dull sounds of their shoes hitting the dirt path forced Harry to run faster; they were practically in the village now. Harry sighed in relief as the trees thinned and he made it to the path leading to the Shrieking Shack. He could see Voldemort and the others making for the village, but Harry skidded to a halt on the trail, his eyes as wide as his lenses, horrified.

Hogsmeade was on fire.

Several buildings including Gladrags, Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, Zonko's, and, to Harry's horror, Honeydukes and The Three Broomsticks were all up in smoke. He could see the dark shapes of the Death Eaters spewing fountains of flame from their wands and villagers and shop owners who were brave enough to face them countering their attacks with Aguamenti before they fell victim to the Avada Kedavra and other such nasty curses. Suddenly, the jovial Death Eaters halted their attacks at the sight of the Dark Lord and began abruptly vanishing, Disapparating away. Mystikos and Hryczuk followed, disappearing with a ripple.

"Voldemort!" Harry shouted, raising his wand, his head pounding and his hands clenched into fists upon hearing the despairing wails of the shop owners. The wizard in question calmly spun around to face Harry, his expression quietly pleased and his eyes reflecting the fire and damage he was proud to have caused. Bellatrix smirked condescendingly and lifted her wand at a sharp angle, ready to blast Harry to pieces but a pointed look from the Dark Lord had her all but cowering, as her dignity would not have her display her fear so openly. Then she, too, Disapparated with a sharp 'crack'.

Harry turned his wand on Voldemort, matching his stance, both of their wands at ready. "Tell me, Harry Potter," he began, his ruby eyes mirroring the inferno around them. Harry's mouth fixed in a vengeful line as the dark wizard leered, his bestial face even more unsightly in the firelight. "Does he mean everything to you?"

Harry paused at the unexpected query, but held his wand aloft. "After all that he has done, all the pain he's caused us—least of all you, his own blood," The Dark Lord idly questioned. "Can you still call him brother," Voldemort raised his eyes to Harry's challengingly and his scar throbbed, "when he is the very thing you despise, against the very principles you oppose, and the very person you detest … me?"

"He isn't you!" Harry spat, his green eyes narrowed and appalled that Voldemort would suggest such a thing. "He'll never be you."

Voldemort snorted. "Dear boy, you are blind. I know a valuable weapon when I see one, despite its shortcomings. Do you really think you can turn the beast from his ways and bring him to your side where his … talents," the Dark Lord drawled distastefully, "will fritter away to nothing?"

"Yes," Harry replied without hesitation. "I can. I'll keep him from going Dark like you."

"You waste your time. He'll kill you and your company of Muggle-loving idiots whether your back is turned or not. You cannot keep him from being me. He already is me."

"No!"

"Do tell that brother of yours, Potter," Voldemort's gaze lowered to something in his left hand that Harry couldn't make out, but his blackened smirk spoke volumes. "My offer still stands … and I'll be waiting. This … is just the beginning." Harry's breath came out roughly and his fingers tightened around his wand, the vibration of his magic sending waves of furious power through his body.

The Disarming Spell was halfway across his lips when Voldemort barked out, "Morsmordre!" and went after Bellatrix with a disappointing 'crack'. There were several screams from the Hogsmeade residents as their burning world was lit up with the sickly green glow of the Dark Mark.

Cursing inwardly, Harry lowered his wand and beat a hand on a nearby tree, fuming. They'd escaped again; and who was Voldemort to try to fill Harry's head with doubts? Golradir hadn't completely taken over Kaltagonus; he'd make sure that he wouldn't.

The smoke billowing from the buildings and the grating sound of wood succumbing to fire brought Harry out of his reverie and he was torn between helping the villagers and going back to check on the others. His decision, however, was made for him as he happened upon a very unusual sight.

Vaguely, it was still odd to see his Potions professor on a broomstick, despite the small number of Quidditch matches he'd refereed. Snape had come with Daedelus, who was riding Ensedius, both with determined looks on their faces. Harry wondered if he'd been spotted and confirmed it as Daedelus motioned in his direction and tugged the winged horse's reins toward him, Ensedius smoothly turning toward the tree line and giving one last powerful beat of his wings before he landed gracefully. Snape descended quite stiffly from his broom, giving Harry one of his patented death glares as he strode up to him.

"Potter!" he spat, the fury in his deadly tone evident. His sallow complexion looked especially wan in the Dark Mark's light. "By no stretch of the imagination—!"

"Where are the others? Where's Kaltag?" Daedelus urgently cut in, ignoring the dark look from the hook-nosed professor. Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry and feeling very tired and overwhelmed.

"In the forest," he replied, his voice winded and sounding of someone who had just run a marathon. Daedelus didn't let him finish and all but pushed him back into the wood, urging him to lead them as best as he could. Harry didn't think it'd be that difficult: all he had to do was follow the shining glow emanating from the trees, and if that didn't help, the gale-forced winds and sounds that closely resembled that of a snarling beast caught in a cyclone were definitely course enough. The Gryffindor, however, made to head for Hogsmeade. "But—"

"They can handle it, Harry," Daedelus briskly replied, driving Harry back into the trees. "The others will soon be here to help." Defeated, Harry had no choice but to take the Vice Admiral at his word and escort them to the clearing.

Harry led the men through the trees quickly and efficiently, suddenly finding himself eager to get back to Kaltagonus. He'd sincerely hoped Spiridon hadn't changed his mind and decided that the Being had known too much. But would the General be able to murder the boy he raised as his own? Harry couldn't let that happen; he quickened his pace.

The sounds of Golradir's incensed growling and cries steadily grew louder until Harry could see the outline of the dome, even more brilliant than before and felt the wind sweeping his hair in his eyes. Snape had a mildly astonished look on his face, while Daedelus gaped at the lashing, spitting Celestial, his pupils so small his eyes were entirely gold. His face contorted into barely-masked fury as his body trembled violently and the dome's glow began to recede. Golradir snapped his head in Spiridon's direction, pinning the General with his livid gaze.

"Don't think you're free of me yet, stable-hand!" He growled between his convulsions, his eyes bulging so large, Harry could easily trace the veins rising beneath the surface of his skin. Spiridon mutely continued to direct his wand at him, the Ravenstone Scepter swirling agitatedly in his hold, as his face remained grim.

"Let go of him." The General's icy voice demanded. Golradir released a gruff chuckle of dissent. "I said LET HIM GO!" Spiridon roared.

Golradir writhed on the ground, opened his livid eyes and bellowed, "NEVER!"

Daedelus' mouth remained hanging, his expression more perplexed than unnerved. "This explains a lot." He absently stated.

"Harry," said Gryffindor suddenly had an armful of Ella Burton, tears streaked in the dirt on her face making muddy trails. Though she appeared relieved to see him, her tone was hollow and deep, just like the time she had made the prediction about the Child of Phoenix, but this time it was much quieter, more burdened. She held his forearms in a vice-like grip, her eyes glued to the convulsing Celestial.

The sudden press of his shirt against his throat as Snape seized the back of his robes and dragged him up momentarily brought Harry back to his presence. "Potter, what is the meaning of this?" Snape demanded, his black eyes glittering dangerously. "What have you idiot children been up to?"

Snape's interrogation was cut short and his grasp loosened as Golradir began to scream again, a yell so unbearable Harry thought it could've split his very soul in two. He strengthened his hold on Ella, clasping her wrists tightly as she made a move to stop Spiridon, but his eyes were locked on Golradir.

Gone was the gleaming bubble that kept him inside and instead, the gold runes were again racing over his skin. His eyes blazed white-hot in their sockets and he curled into a ball on his knees, his fists banging the dirt as his screams increased. Harry wondered what was afflicting him when he saw it.

A strange radiance like fire burned through Kaltag's shirt, but it was no spontaneous fire. Rather than engulf the clothes in flame, it remarkably burned quite slow and deliberately on the boy's arched back. Tendrils of gold from the runes seemed to bleed down the curve of Golradir's spine to manifest itself into an unknown shape, shielded by wisps of gold. Quite abruptly, Spiridon jerked his wand in the air, breaking the connection and thus, the spell. Golradir yelled and shook one last time before the blustery drafts ceased and the clearing fell eerily silent.

The symbols on the Bellotaur's skin still glittered with life, albeit faintly, as it appeared their magic was siphoned into the golden particles of radiance at the base of the beast's spine. Finally, the golden light brightened one last time before it, too, began to fade into a faintly glowing, red-hot, unrecognizable mark. Before Harry could get a closer look, Golradir unexpectedly straightened. Everyone but Daedelus and Ella had their wands up not a moment later, awaiting the Bellotaur's first move.

Golradir wavered on his knees, the fight seeming to have gone from him. His eyes were wide and stark white, staring directly down the barrel of Spiridon's wand. Harry tightened his hold around Ella's arm as she tried to pull away. He dared not speak for fear of calling unwanted attention to themselves and experiencing more of the murderous beast's wrath.

"Kaltagonus?" Spiridon tentatively croaked, his wand an inch from the boy's face.

But Golradir remained unspeaking on his knees, vacillating gently back and forth, shredded shirt hanging open, his hands loose at his sides, his expression utterly blank, white eyes wide and his lips slightly parted. He resembled the picture of complete innocence. It only caused Harry to grip his wand tighter.

And suddenly, milky white eyes softened into blank gold irises, and Harry heaved a great breath of relief when the gold gave way to normal, unfocused blue. Harry lowered his wand slightly, and distantly realized he was shaking.

Spiridon's shoulders slumped, relieved, an oppressive sigh leaving him as he clutched his forehead and swept a hand through his hair. He cast a brief glance at Harry and the others before he aimed his wand at the unresponsive Being and spoke a sharp spell in his native Greek. His wand let out a short burst of white and at once, a gleaming silver cuff encircled the Celestial boy's wrist, almost melding to it, seamless in design and engraved with more symbols.

When the General sighed again, a freeing sound this time, Harry found himself expectantly staring at the man. The dark-haired Being first looked at Ella, then Harry, before pointing his wand once more at the expressionless Paraffin.

"Evincio." He whispered. Blue light shot like a bullet from the General's wand and straight into the Being's eyes. The azure orbs livened, their pupils widening until only a rim of blue remained, before falling blank once more. Spiridon pursed his lips and dropped the faintly glowing Scepter to the forest floor. His eyes alighted on the small group waiting with breath bated, and he gave Harry's eager look a grim nod. "It's over. He's been exorcised for now."

Harry stared, dubious. "For now? You mean he'll be back?" The thought made his skin crawl.

"Not tonight." Spiridon resignedly assured, shaking his head. "Not tonight."

Harry shut his eyes and sighed, restraining the urge to laugh hysterically. Nightmare. That was the only word that could best describe the entire experience. God, what a terrible night: but it was over. For now, a niggling voice in the back of his head reminded. Completely, utterly, absolutely over: no Voldemort or Bellatrix or vampires to fight. Harry suddenly recognized his gaffe as the bushes crackled and he cursed himself. He really should learn not to speak so soon.

A sudden whoosh of air unsettled the trees and a large dark blur leapt out of the brush and wrapped itself around the impassive teenager. It was Mona, Harry realized, the Lamia with the serpent tail. Wands were aimed her way, and Harry was mentally flitting through the list of spells he'd learned about for use on vampires.

Mona twitched and molded her form to Kaltag's, her scaly tail coiling and flicking around his legs. Her purple eyes twinkled maliciously in the moonlight as her rotted bony fingers caressed the Being's face. Harry frowned as she lovingly nudged his cheek with her decayed nose, inhaling his scent and running her scaly hands over his exposed skin. "Let him go you foul beast!" Daedelus ordered, his fists clenching.

The hideous Lamia merely sneered, her long canines glinting in the moonlight, and answered his demand by abruptly sinking her fangs into the exact punctures left by Jojo Six. Kaltag finally reacted, his body tensing as his eyes squeezed shut and he gasped painfully. Mona's violet eyes seethed into angry red as she bit down hard, sure to leave a bruise. Just as suddenly as it began it was over, with Mona shoving Kaltag away from her, spitting and throwing over her shoulder as she blended into the evening, "Now we'll be able to find you wherever you run!"

Daedelus was there to catch Kaltag before he pitched forward into the dirt, frantically yelling, "He's been Marked!" The panicked soldier flipped the unconscious Kaltagonus on his back, his hand reaching for the piercing wound bubbling red and gold blood from his neck.

"No!" Spiridon yelled, moving swiftly to slap the Vice Admiral's hand away. Daedelus looked up at Spiridon, startled. "His blood is poisonous." Spiridon explained, leveling his wand at the redhead.

"But sir, he's been Marked." Daedelus repeated with urgency, standing to his feet.

Harry's brow furrowed, confused. "What does that mean?"

"Judging by the Lamia's attitude, I'd venture a guess as to say she certainly meant what she said," Snape silkily informed, ignoring the Gryffindor's question. His black eyes scrutinized the Celestial boy for a brief moment before he added, "Rest assured, she will make good on her promise: indeed she will be coming for him."

"Then we'll Cloak him," Spiridon resolutely supplied. "They'll find someone else to avenge their clan member on." Harry watched the men exchange tacit glances before Spiridon instructed, "Severus, you know the incantation." Snape's expression soured for a split second before he aimed his wand at the inert redhead.

"Very well, stand back."

"No, wait—use mine," Spiridon interrupted, handing him the long black rod. Snape's eyes gleamed with vague recognition before he accepted the proffered object, albeit stiffly. When Spiridon stretched his hand for the Potion Master's, Snape regarded him with a hard look. "The backlash of the spell will be forceful so you're going to need a bolster if you use my wand," he stated, his eyes drifting to Daedelus. "And we're going to need someone to bind him if it doesn't go as planned. You'll, ah, need a wand…"

Spiridon began searching the ground, whirling around as he struggled to see in the darkness. Harry vaguely wondered what he had been searching for when Spiridon bent over the Defense professor's body and began rifling through his pockets. "Should I even comment on your lack of respect for the dead?" Daedelus vacuously said. Spiridon leaned over to hand him what he'd obviously been looking for—Kenward's wand—and he said something to Daedelus that neither Harry nor Ella could hear.

"Stand back." He told Harry and Ella, motioning them to the sidelines. Harry wordlessly obeyed, grabbing Ella's shoulders and pulling her away when she didn't budge. The General turned to Daedelus, who had halfheartedly raised his wand to Kaltagonus and said, "If it doesn't work, I want you to throw the strongest Binding Spell you know at him." Though his brow creased and he looked ready to protest, Daedelus nodded. Spiridon pointed his wand behind Snape and motioned for him to begin.

Snape wrapped both of his hands around the long shaft, and aimed it directly at Kaltagonus. After a moment's pause he shouted, "Delitesco!"

A blast like gunfire sounded from the wand and threw Snape back at least ten feet in the air, but Spiridon had spoken a Cushioning Charm in time. The Potion Master landed on the invisible, pillowing shield and slid down to land on his bum with a sharp grunt. When Harry felt Ella's body tremble with suppressed laughter and saw Daedelus bowing his head as well, he couldn't help the snort that escaped his throat.

Luckily, Snape hadn't heard them and he swept gracefully back to his feet, brushing the leaves from his robes and handing Spiridon his wand back with an unreadable look. For all his movements were calculated and even-handed, Harry noticed the slight color spread thinly across his pallor cheeks. Snape brushed the long strands of hair from his face and silently demanded the return of his wand with an outstretched hand, holding it at ready as the men inched toward the heap known as Kaltag Smythe. The situation didn't seem quite as amusing anymore.

"Is he…?" Ella quietly trailed, freeing herself from Harry's embrace.

"He's Cloaked," Spiridon answered, sweeping his wand over Kaltag's body. "She won't be able to find him."

Daedelus broke from their arc and dropped to his knees, pressing a hand on the unwounded side of Kaltag's neck. He heaved a sigh of relief as he snatched Spiridon's wand and began to murmur diagnostic charms. "You didn't kill him."

Spiridon gave the Vice Admiral an annoyed look. "Of course not. Why would I kill my own son?"

Something reared in Harry at his words. All at once everything he'd learned that night came crashing back to his mind: the Quintessence, the memories, his mother. Harry felt the anger well up in him and he glared a hole in the back of the General's head.

"He's not."

The three black-haired men turned at Harry's whispered declaration. Spiridon gave him a warning look, but Harry didn't care. The bastard needed to be put in his place.

"What's that, Potter?" Snape snarled, striding up to him and seizing the front of his robes in his fist as he drew Harry close. "You had better come up with a damn good explanation as to why you had to throw yourself headfirst into danger yet again, I might add, without seeking the consultation of a qualified adult." Snape's voice had steadily risen in intensity until he was practically spitting into Harry's face. His black eyes found Ella and his glare turned even nastier. "What is it with you Gryffindors and needing to surpass the bounds of stupidity your bravery seeks to test?"

"Severus."

Harry scowled at the ranting professor. "Perhaps you all will finally learn when your cursed gallantry gets you killed!"

"Severus!" Spiridon admonished, prying the man's long fingers from Harry's clothes. "They've been through enough tonight. Back off." Snape frowned deeply at the command, throwing Harry one last glare before he glided away from the Gryffindors.

"Sir," Daedelus beckoned as the Celestial wand's tip flashed red. "I've detected the presence of foreign Essence in him—which, is to be expected, considering—but this Essence hasn't borrowed from his own force: it's … tampered with it."

The General's blue eyes widened and he regarded Kaltagonus in alarm. Quickly, he rounded on the Gryffindors. "Did either of you see this happen?"

Harry and Ella exchanged a bewildered look. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Spiridon exhaled urgently and pressed, "When you arrived here, what did you see?"

"Um," Ella began, sighing as she scratched her head anxiously. "I don't know, I mean … You-Know-Who was here with his Death Eaters and two … horrendous vampires," she burst out, riled at the memory, "and a few Hybrids and he was torturing information out of Kaltag." Her brown eyes fell on said Being with sympathy. "The next thing I know, we're being tortured by…" she trailed, looking away from Kaltag.

"Harry?" Daedelus encouraged, his eyes wide with expectation.

The dark-haired Gryffindor sighed, rubbing his pounding forehead. "It's like she said: we found Voldemort and Mystikos here torturing Kaltag, then Golradir, uh … came out." He finished lamely.

The Battalion soldiers' eyes flashed at the mention of the Dark Prince. "Mystikos was here?" Spiridon replied. "Did he do anything? Anything that made Kaltag slow down or acquiesce?"

Ella shook her head no, but the sudden memory of Kaltag being caught in the forest fluttered across Harry's mind. "Yeah," he began uncertainly. "He, uh … breathed, on him." Harry haltingly answered, shaking his head in puzzlement. "Mystikos said something about how he Compelled him and called him—"

"What? Is he mad?" Daedelus erupted, fuming. "He could've killed him!"

Harry couldn't imagine that being breathed on could cause sudden death, no matter how foul the person's breath was. Daedelus must've seen his confusion, because he explained, "Compulsion was used by Celestial fathers in earlier times to soothe and placate wayward children, but not anymore. Men and children were dropping like flies, dying, because Compulsion is an exchange of essences, of life force; everyone has a force and essence specific to themselves. To change or add to another's force, to tamper with it, could cause devastating results. If a father Compels their child and the child isn't strong enough magically for the internal battle, well..."

Harry nodded, the unsaid thought understood. To meddle with someone's life was to possibly destroy it; why had Mystikos taken that chance?

"Did Kaltag react?" Spiridon asked.

Harry nodded, skeptical. "Yeah. He went lax for a moment, but then he was fine. Fighting, a second later."

The General sighed, relieved, dragging a hand wearily through his hair. "Then he'll be fine. As Daedelus said, it's just a way parents used to discipline their children. Very dangerous, practically outlawed, now."

"Then why'd he do it?" Ella questioned.

"It's his way of recognizing his young: by smothering him in his scent, his essence," Spiridon unpleasantly informed. "In his sick mind, he believes himself to be Kaltag's father."

Harry's face scrunched in confusion. "But … Mystikos isn't his … " Ella started, shaking her head in incomprehension, turning her look on Harry. But the Gryffindor was busy thinking, thinking about other things. About red hair, a narrow nose, and bold emerald eyes.

Lily's eyes.

Flashes of his mother's determined face and her defiance in the children's nursery flicked across Harry's mind one after the other. His brow lowered over his narrowed eyes and he accusingly finished among the silence, spearing the General with his glare, "And neither are you."

Spiridon's gaze was hard, steely at best, and he threw Harry the most infuriating look he could muster. "That's a very serious accusation, Mr. Potter." His furious eyes betrayed his calm voice. "Perhaps you hit your head harder than you realized."

"I DID NOT—"

"Clearly," the General coolly stated over Harry's yell, piercing him with a withering look, "the boy is delusional. He's in shock and he hasn't a clue what he's saying."

Harry was furious, his magic fraying at the edges and his breath coming in shallow puffs. He wasn't going to let him twist this. Not this time. "You bastard, you—!"

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for vulgar language." Snape disrupted, glowering at him.

Harry huffed, scowling at the ill-tempered professor. "But you don't understand, he—"

"But I understand perfectly, Mr. Potter," Snape sneered, standing toe to toe with the Gryffindor. "You are grasping at anything to lay the blame on for your stupid mistakes. Rest assured, you will not win me over by regaling me with tales of your awe-inspiring acts of heroism. Another twenty points for false accusations and failure to take responsibility for your actions."

"Professor Snape!" Ella protested, scandalized. "You're being completely unreasonable about this—"

"And you can't even begin to fathom the amount of points you'll lose for being in the Dark Forest without supervision and cavorting about Hogsmeade village when you clearly are not supposed to!" He rounded on her.

"Severus, leave them alone."

"Don't try to defend me!" Harry snarled, knocking Spiridon's hand off his shoulder.

"Mr. Potter!"

"Excuse me!" Everyone's objections died on their lips as Daedelus broke through the group, beside himself with disbelief. "In case you hadn't noticed, we're in the middle of one of the most dangerous forests this side of the Northern Hemisphere, surrounded by dead bodies, no less," his voice rose angrily as he gestured to the corpses, "we've got an injured boy here, and I'm not a Mender. Can we take our angry accusations and pathetic tirades to the school where we won't get mauled by some ravenous creature?" Everyone stared at the red-faced second-in-command, some gaping. "Please?" Daedelus crossly added.

He had a point, Harry conceded. They weren't out of danger yet: this was still the Forbidden Forest, after all. Not to mention Hogsmeade was probably still burning; Harry hoped they put out most of the fires, but still knew the village was more than likely destroyed.

They had to get back to the school to patch themselves up (he'd only realized his ribs were aching from being bound so firmly) and let Dumbledore and the others know about the Death Eaters and Kenward. Upon thinking of Kenward, Harry's hand instinctively fingered the smooth outline of Amenophus in his pocket.

Snape narrowed his eyes at Daedelus, then nodded once. "To the school," Spiridon voiced, his eyes lingering on Harry for a moment. "The Infirmary."

"You don't say?" Daedelus tartly replied, pulling off his coat to drape over Ella's shoulders. She gratefully thanked him and wrapped her arms around herself. Daedelus bent down to scoop the limp Being up and throw him over his shoulder. Harry winced at the sight of Kaltagonus flopping around like a rag doll. "I can't believe you still have this," Daedelus grumbled as he handed Spiridon the black wand. He accused, "You told me you'd gotten rid of it."

"Never mind, Daedelus; help them." Spiridon insisted, glaring.

The Battalion soldier grunted, indicating that Ella should lead the way back to Hogsmeade. "Right! Right, right, right!" He grumbled, pushing a branch down so Harry and Ella could pass. "I just witnessed my protégé nearly murdered by a vampire and exorcised by his father. Yeah, I'll forget all about that!"

For as wild as the evening had been, the walk through Hogsmeade to Hogwarts was uneventful. Except for Ensedius whinnying wildly at their appearance and refusing to go anywhere near Daedelus and his quarry, it seemed their excitement was over for the night. Harry was pleased to note that most of the fires had been contained and put out by Aurors and some of the Hogwarts staff he recognized. But the damage was done: Hogsmeade was in ruins. Even if the residents and shop owners rebuilt, the quiet, lively parish would never be the same.

Harry sighed, glad to reach the front steps of the school. The front was emptied of thestrals and carriages, a sign that the guests had long departed from the grounds. They were met with equally frightening silence at the entrance halls, and the torches along the walls were dimly lit. Harry expected panic and frenzy at the realization of events, but it seemed Dumbledore had seen to it that everything would go as smoothly as possible. Still, it was very unusual for them not to have run into anyone, not a prefect, or a professor.

The Infirmary was still as sterile and disquieting as always, the bedclothes starchy and the floors polished and white, the beds casting blue and gray shadows on the moonlit floor. The Gryffindors followed Daedelus to the bed most distant from the doors and they quietly watched him deposit Kaltagonus on the cot, his expression troubled. In comparison to the sheets, Kaltag looked even paler and more ill.

"Why don't you two grab a bed? I'll … I'll get Madam Pomfrey." Daedelus offered, marching toward the Mediwitch's office. The Gryffindors stood by Kaltag's bed as he left, silently keeping guard of the unconscious Being instead. Although Harry didn't think it would do much good: how could they protect someone from themselves?

The moment Madam Pomfrey rounded the corner Harry knew the watch was over. She frowned at the sight of them and immediately dragged them into separate beds, much further down from Kaltag's, and forced them to lie down as she bustled over them. As she was checking Ella for any ailments, Harry noticed Mender Magus appear over Kaltag's still form, a frown marring her face. With Daedelus' help, Kenward's wand still in his possession, she dragged the curtains around the bed and they disappeared from sight.

"Really, Mr. Potter," Harry was startled from his thoughts as the formidable nurse stood over him with a puckered brow. A quick glance at Ella showed she was already passed out, asleep. "Why am I not surprised to see you?"

"Wouldn't be a normal school year if you didn't," Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes as she pushed him further into the pillows.

"Well, be that as it may," she sniffed, waving her wand in circles down his frame, "I expected you quite sooner: a new batch of antiseptic especially for magical creature injuries arrived just the other day and I thought of you. Dragons," she groused in an undertone, obviously remembering the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year. "But you're in here entirely too often as it is."

"I'm going for a record, you know," he moodily returned with a tight smile, his eyes still on the unmoving curtains surrounding Kaltagonus. "It'd be a shame to mess it up by giving in now."

"Be careful Mr. Potter, or I might think you're deliberately injuring yourself to be in my company."

Harry exaggerated a defeated cluck of his tongue and dryly replied, "Caught me. My dastardly plot—revealed. Was I that obvious?"

"Really." Madam Pomfrey harrumphed again, though Harry would later swear that he'd seen her lips curve upward at his words, and cleaned him off with a spell before she applied salves to soothe and disinfect the cuts on his face and body.

"The best medicine for these bruises is time," she enlightened after she'd wrapped them with a creased, sympathetic brow. "So if you're planning to participate in water sports this summer and are, ahem … sensitive about your appearance," Harry rolled his eyes skyward. "Until they fade, I would advise leaving your shirt on, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed affectedly, shaking his head. "There goes the world tour. I was so hoping to get my kit off for the ladies…"

"I'm sure your lady-killing can withstand taking a backseat to your health."

"It seems to be doing just fine on you."

"Pity there isn't a cure for excessive wit."

"Pity." Mimed Harry.

She smirked and Summoned a vial of green potion from her stores. "Headache Potion." When Harry's eyebrows fell in bemusement she huffed. "Really, do you think I wouldn't know you by now?"

"Still, it's a bit disconcerting."

"Then keep yourself out of trouble next time," she sternly countered, pointing her wand in the direction of the wardrobe. A pair of striped pajamas landed in a neat pile at the foot of his bed. "Change into those and drink the potion slowly—all of it, and I mean that, Mr. Potter—as it has a mild sleep aid laced in. I expect to return here in ten minutes to find you counting unicorns in your sleep."

Harry gave her a cynical look and unblinkingly deadpanned, "Unicorns."

Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow in challenge but Harry decided to stay quiet. She threw him a small, victorious smile and pointed her wand at the drape, which snapped shut around him. With a deep sigh, Harry began the arduous task of peeling off the rest of his muddy clothes. He'd almost forgotten about Amenophus until the amber jewel fell out of his pocket and onto the floor. As Harry picked it up and shoved it back in, he tried not to remember Kenward throwing it at him before he was hit with the Killing Curse. It took a bit longer to undress than he'd expected with his sore chest and ribs and memories, and Madam Pomfrey must have known because after ten minutes, she hadn't returned.

When at last Harry fastened the last button on his shirt and settled beneath the sheets with a grateful sigh, closing his eyes, he heard the screen rustle. "I know, take the potion, I was just—you!"

Harry's eyes opened a fraction before they widened and he lunged for his wand, which he'd unwisely left in his jeans. Suddenly, his arms snapped to his sides and he was thrown back against his cot in a form of the Body-Binding Curse, only with black tendrils of smoke weaving around his body like a light, makeshift rope, strong enough to hold him down and gag him.

"Now, now, Mr. Potter: don't do anything foolish." Spiridon stoically reproved, his wand held casually in his hand, piloting the black rope. Harry felt the weight of Silencing and Privacy Charms spring around his cot and narrowed his eyes as the man sat a chair beside his bed, sinking onto it. "You're rash and impetuous, just like your father."

Harry tried to fly at him again, but the smoke kept him pinned to the bed. Surprisingly, the thick cloud muzzling him peeled back to let him talk. "You bastard." He ground out. "I stood up for you when he said bad things about you," Harry heatedly replied, disregarding the man's words. He couldn't believe he had the nerve to show up and attack him after all that he had done! "I defended you!"

"I never asked you to," the General unflappably responded. "So you'll excuse me if I don't thank you." Harry scoffed, throwing everything he had into a death glare for the Being. The man barely blinked. "There are things you don't understand, Mr. Potter," the dark-haired Celestial quietly stated. "You didn't see the whole story; that's why I'm here."

"I don't care!" Harry hissed, struggling against his bonds. "This is all your fault!"

Spiridon bowed forward, his wand still trained on the Gryffindor. "I am not the enemy, Harry." He quietly declared.

"Oh, and my mum and dad were?" Harry growled, desperately willing the smoke to let him free so he could punch the General square in the face. "What'd my mum ever do to you?"

Spiridon paused, his dark blue eyes gleaming with thought, seeming to examine Harry's words and he sat back, just slightly. "Nothing, really. It wasn't her fault. On the other hand, had it not been for your idiot of a father, Golradir would have never made it out of that orb."

Harry fumed. "Shut up! If it wasn't for you, I would have known my brother."

"And had it not been for my wife," Spiridon sneered, "your brother would have never survived."

"But if it hadn't been for my parents," Spat Harry, fighting the swarthy wisps, "you would have no son!"

The Being's eyes glittered, unreadable, before he softly acknowledged, "You're right." Harry blinked, suspicion creeping up his spine. "You're absolutely right."

"Then you admit you caused this!"

Spiridon regarded him distantly. "You're forgetting: I wasn't the one who tortured Lily Potter into losing her child."

"But you might as well have! You made her into that overprotective witch," Harry growled, realization suddenly dawning on him. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You frightened her so much, that she used Love Magic to protect me not only from Voldemort … but from you," he whispered, revolted at the thought. "Didn't she?"

Dark eyes considered Harry coldly, Spiridon's long fingers rubbing at his wand as he calculated his next answer. "I did what I had to do."

"You did this for yourself, you selfish git!"

"Yes," Spiridon tipped forward in his chair, looming over Harry with a scowl. "If you're asking me if I don't regret your mother losing the child, then yes," he breathed, his face screwed up in aggravation. Harry felt sick to his stomach. He didn't think he could hear any more of this. "I don't regret it, not at all … because I gained mine back."

Harry's brow was drawn in bafflement as the General sighed heavily, slumping back into the stiff hospital wing chair and rubbing his eyes. "I have few regrets in my life, Mr. Potter." A troubled look passed his face before Athena's husband lifted his head and stared into Harry's defiant, livid eyes. "One thing I regret is how everything played out for your mother … but I can't regret the gift she'd given me. It's … not my fault, nor hers, nor yours. Like you, like … your mother," he faintly began, fiddling with the sheets on Harry's bed, "And like Kaltagonus, I am a victim of Golradir.

"You … heard his words in the forest," Spiridon smiled, a somber smile, as Harry's urge to resist the bindings lessened. "The words he used: stable-hand, victor … Spardonosos," Spiridon shook his head, pursing his lips. "I haven't been called that in nearly four millennia." Harry's eyebrows shot into his hairline. Spiridon nodded with a grim smile. "Yes, that's right. When I killed Golradir the first time, I had a life, and I was hardly older than you are now."

Harry sagged into his cot, rolling his eyes. "Spare me the sob story." He griped, scowling at the General when the cloud of black smoke wrapped around his mouth again, shutting him up. The urge to cuff Spiridon in the head increased tenfold.

"I'll wager a guess that you don't yet know what it's like," Spiridon darkly resumed, "to come home from a hard day's work, twenty or so tasks under your belt while the rest of your people are off warring over a lover's quarrel." Spiridon bitterly explained.

"To rush to market before it's closed, because your wife failed to remember the food for the sacrifice; to come back from the agora to dead silence from a town that once bustled with life; to walk into your home to see your parents' bodies, their blood painting the walls and the beautiful frescoes you'd spent your entire life admiring," Harry swallowed, but the tightening in his chest hindered its progress with every despairing word from Spiridon's mouth.

"To run into the fields to find your wife, murdered, her life staining the harvest red," the General's eyes were empty and distant. "To turn to only discover your son, your only boy, who had just learned to ride a horse, mangled in an awful heap.

"To happen upon the soulless wretch that caused the deaths of your people, your family, and to pick up that sword and slay him in a rage: only to find that he had indeed got the last laugh and his wretched blood poisoned your own, sentencing you to a painful death..." Harry forced himself not to think of such images, but his mind couldn't avoid them.

"Then to be saved from death, wooed by promises of threefold blessings from the men and women to whom you now owe a life debt, only to be cursed, coerced to guard the very filth that shattered your world," Spiridon's emotionless gaze made Harry's breath catch in his throat.

"And then to finally realize the one who destroyed countless civilizations and massacred your family, your wife, your son … lives in the very boy that I call my own, whom love so … fiercely, that I condemned him … to save him?" Spiridon finished in a strained whisper, the challenge in his tone present. Harry could only swallow, his mouth dry as the smoke choked him and he suddenly felt cold and helpless.

The General's eyes hardened, then narrowed as he shook his head slowly. Harry tensed as he was lanced with a spiteful glare. "You don't know pain. You don't know suffering. You don't know me, Mr. Potter. Do not presume anything."

An edgy silence followed Spiridon's confession and Harry looked away to allow him some semblance of privacy as the man bowed his head to compose himself. Though Harry still thought the man was a git for everything he'd done, he was beginning to understand quite the quandary that Spiridon Smythe found himself in.

Rather soon, Spiridon's mask of cool indifference returned to his face. "Now, Mr. Potter," he sullenly began. "Have you anything else to say? Perhaps more accusations to hurl at me?"

When the cloud lifted from Harry's face, the young wizard swallowed, sorting his thoughts carefully before he spoke. "Even though I'm beginning to understand why you did it," he cautiously chose, "I still hate you for what you've done to my parents."

Spiridon shrugged dismissively. "Understandable."

"What you did was selfish … and barbaric."

"Yes," Spiridon agreed, his gaze piercing Harry's. "But it was also necessary."

"Was it also necessary for me to know all of this?" Harry brought up, curious. "The Quintessence told Kaltag to keep this from me—"

"Until the right time, yes," Spiridon nodded, expression pinched. "For all the intelligence they possess, they still rely on superstition and Fate."

"Won't they know?" Harry asked. "That I know?"

"I'll take care of it."

The memory of the Quintessence reminded Harry of another niggling discovery. "My mother," he hesitantly prompted. "Why was she there?"

Spiridon's brow arched. "I would think that was obvious," he drawled. "She's part of the council; she's filled in as Mercy."

"So does that mean my dad's Morality?" Harry asked, hopeful.

His face fell when Spiridon shook his head. "No. I'm afraid the search for a new Morality doesn't take precedence over Golradir."

Harry stared at the smoky coil keeping him restrained, thoughtful. "But my mum, why did she appear at the end? Why wasn't she there while Kaltag was around?"

The Celestial graced Harry with a serious look. "It was at your mother's behest," he stated, but Harry knew there was more to the story than he was being told. "And for Kaltagonus' sanity. If he knew Lily was there, ohh, the things he'd do; his reaction would be violent, and we could not have that happen. If he had seen Lily, then he would have been more readily acceptable to Golradir, and I would not have gotten him back so easily. Kaltagonus cannot know everything, not this conversation and certainly not Lily's involvement with the Quintessence. The knowledge that you two are brothers should never have even come to light."

"But … then why are you even bothering?" Harry pushed, angered that this was kept from him. "Why was I even told? Why did we even meet? Isn't it fate or destiny or luck that we even met each other? That this year, the year the Celestials and Wizards reunite, we'd find each other?"

Spiridon frowned, his thumb tapping the end of his wand, pensive. His blue eyes met Harry's persistent stare head on, and he finally answered, "As I said before, there are few things that I regret. Unsurprisingly enough, your mother is one of the selected few." Harry felt the sourness rear up in him again. "I made a promise to your mother the night she discovered who Kaltagonus really was. I promised that I would do everything in my power for the two of you to know each other."

Harry nodded, miffed by the smoke that still pressed him down. "That was the easy part, getting us together."

Spiridon smirked grimly, chuckling to himself. "In order for me to make good on my promise, I had to find a way to get you two together. Now, I could not have sent Kaltagonus to Hogwarts: besides having an unfair advantage over the students, an early exposure to magical interference would have brought the latent Bellotaur out too early. Not to mention, Celestial and Wizard ties were severed. No," Spiridon shook his head, "Kaltagonus needed to go to Aripedes, ground himself for a while."

"Right," Harry nodded, though it was difficult and awkward from his position. "And by chance, Aripedes was attacked and the old laws went into effect."

A wide grin split Spiridon's face, and Harry suddenly felt the ever present cold chill run down his spine again. It was a grin that Harry had only seen on those who had just wrought havoc. Those like Malfoy, Bellatrix, Snape, and—dare he say it—Voldemort. He gulped.

"Yes, but in order for those laws to take effect a valid reason had to have emerged. A reason, for instance, like one of Youngblood's weapons being found."

Harry froze, his eyes as round as saucers.

"And let's imagine this information reaches the wrong ears … say, for example, a Death Eater's ears."

Harry gaped. Unbelievable.

"And say the sniveling minion went to his master to share the good news," Spiridon wryly continued. "And then said Dark Lord realizes the caliber of this discovery and decides to call on an old friend for help once he realizes the origins of the weaponry. Let's imagine, perhaps," Spiridon leaned on his knees again, his voice dropping to a furtive whisper, "that the same person who informed the Death Eater—unwittingly, of course—now drops the hint to the Dark Lord's old friend that Youngblood's weapon resides at the world-famous Aripedes Academy."

Harry swallowed, his eyes still bulging. He couldn't believe it...

"It was you." Harry exhaled sharply, incredulous.

Spiridon nodded once. "It was I who secretly alerted Mystikos to the Scepter being possibly hidden at the school. I knew if there was anyone who could catalyze this plan into action it would be trigger-happy Mystikos. One can always bank on his penchant for destruction. In his demolition of the school, he all but hand delivered Kaltagonus to you. So yes, gathering both of you face to face was my doing, as to honor the oath I made to your mother. Add to that the Scepter, which is by rights his anyway, and your appetite for adventure, and the rest wrote itself.

"However, I do admit that I did think Hogwarts was a much better-equipped place to handle Golradir once the Scepter was found out," Spiridon ponderingly considered. "The wards here are much stronger, and you, being his balance, could ground him." Harry made a face at the words, still unsure of what they meant. "Had Golradir surfaced while at Academy, it's safe to say there would be no more school, no more island, and no more student body left to fill a teaspoon. Better earth and stone, than innocent lives." Harry nodded, agreeing. "It was just better this way, and I don't regret it."

The silence following Spiridon's revelation was deafening. To think that this entire year had been orchestrated from the very beginning was quite a distressing feeling. Worse yet, being kept from the truth, as the Quintessence had demanded was downright alarming. That those deceased prats, that anyone would allow his mother to suffer—to lie to both him and his parents, just to keep the Cosmos in order, rubbed Harry the wrong way.

"If that is all, Mr. Potter," Harry started at the General's deep tone, "I have some business to attend to." Just as Spiridon rose from his chair and grasped a handful of white curtain, a dangerous thought bubbled to life in Harry's mind.

"Wait," he called, the tight feeling in his chest intensifying and constricting his breath even more if possible. Spiridon paused, eyebrow arched in question. "I have one more question." The General bodily turned toward Harry, nodding for him to continue. Harry felt as if he couldn't breathe.

"Did … did Dumbledore know?" It was as if a hand was squeezing his heart, destroying him little by little as he awaited an answer. If the headmaster had known: about Aripedes, about Lily, about Kaltagonus, and kept the truth from him... It felt as though a troll were sitting on his chest.

Finally, Spiridon answered, "No," with a shake of his head. "We took special measures to make sure our operations were devised to circumvent his awareness. Honorable though he is," Spiridon expressed, "Dumbledore is too inquisitive for his own good."

The tight feeling eased in his chest, but not completely. "Good night, Mr. Potter," Spiridon threw over his shoulder as he made to exit. "Oh, and one more thing." Harry's eyes narrowed as the General held his wand at his side. "Breathe a word of this conversation to Kaltagonus and I'll make sure you'll regret my upholding your mother's request." Harry scowled, his hatred for the man returning full force.

With an upward flick of his wand, the smoky tendrils came back to life, slithering over Harry's form and winding their way toward the startled wizard's face. Harry's resistance was futile as he still couldn't move, and he had no choice but to breathe in the smoke that blacked his vision. He felt a sudden wave of dizziness as the dark cloud wormed its way down his throat and nostrils, tasting of burnt rubber and blearing his sight for a few moments.

Spiridon motioned to the vial sitting on the bedside table and it immediately levitated into the air, the vial unstopping itself and moving to hover over Harry's mouth. Without control over his muscles, Harry's jaw instantly snapped open, and he tried not to gag on the cool potion that tasted faintly of mint and chocolate and lemon.

As the empty vial plugged itself up and settled back on the table under Spiridon's steady hand, Harry's glasses slipped off his face and folded themselves, floating down to rest beside the drained potion vial. The wizard felt the immediate effects as his pounding headache ebbed, his eyes drooping as the sleep aid wrapped itself around his mind, relaxing his body. He felt Spiridon drop the paralyzing control he'd had on him.

The General's whisper drifted across his sleep-fogged brain. "Not a word, Potter. Kaltagonus has enough on his mind now, than to worry about Lily. Now," Spiridon's pitch went up an octave as he straightened his robes and smiled tightly at Harry. "If you'll excuse me, I need to see my son." Spiridon's eyes bore into the sluggish green eyes of the Boy-Who-Lived before he swept the curtain aside and ended the spells around his cot.

Harry turned on his side, fighting against sleep to think about what Spiridon had just confessed, but it was a losing battle. The last thing he was too see before he fell into a fitful rest was Spiridon's dark and fuzzy form rounding the blocked off cot that held Kaltagonus, the tormented man's charge.

Spiridon's ward. Lily's heartache. Harry's brother.

oooooooooo

A/N: That concludes part one of the three part conclusion. Tell me what you think!

A/N 2: The secondary title comes from Shakespeare's comedy, Much Ado About Nothing. Expulsum means to drive out, expel, force out, banish and pervasor means invader. Evincio means to tie up, bind, meaning to hold Golradir back and keep Tag in control. Delitesco means to hide away; I put it as the charm that Cloaks Marked persons. Mona Marked Kaltag for killing Jojo, one of her clan members, and to avenge her death, she Marked him for death. Comprende?

A/N 3: If you're confused about any Celestial aspects or just COP in general, visit the Messageboard on the site (check the profile for the link) with your question. If it's not a major plot point in the next stories, you'll get your answer. Also, can anyone guess what the threefold blessing was in Spiridon's little rant that would've made Wiglaf proud? The next chapter might be up by tomorrow, so look out for it.