Summary of the previous chapter

Cornelius Fudge and Alastor Moody have been murdered by Lord Voldemort and his followers after they had broken into Azkaban to free the other Death eaters. Amelia has been elected as Minister for Magic and has been doing some major changes to the Ministry. Oswald Greengrass plans to lure Lord Voldemort into an open battle with them with the help of the Goblins. Harry learns of the prophecy and a possible way to remove Riddle's soul in him. The Heads plans to arrange a meeting with the Head of the Goblin nation, Ragnarok for a private meeting.


Chapter 49:The Beginning to an End

Blue flames set at even distance along both walls lighted the narrow corridor up. The two wizards and witches were quiet, following their host, a dignified-looking goblin. He was the assistant to the leader of the Goblin nation, sent specially to fetch them. The long hallway led to a massive concrete door at least two stories tall. It was ironic since goblins were shorter than wizards.

It was also tough to believe that they were at Gringotts—there was none of the splendour of the foyer. It was as if they had entered into another realm—it was dreary and bare. The corridor looked as if it was hollowed out from a gigantic boulder at least three stories high. Hermione squeezed her husband's hand when she noticed that they were not alone—she spotted several heavily armed goblins standing guard. They were barely noticeable as their dreary grey armour allowed them to blend in with the stones.

Deep in their jurisdiction, they had shed off their veneer of civility—their dignified suits for armours. Indeed, the goblins were warriors, rather than dignified bankers.

He is the leader of the Goblin nation, answered Harry through their mental connection. We have to put in this request personally. He cast a glance at her, returning the squeeze of her hand gently. He knew that she could feel his nervousness along with that hint of sadness. The death of their ex-professor affected them gravely.

She nodded her head, lacing their hands together. Amelia had decided that it was essential to meet with the goblins after the talk last night and arranged a meeting first thing in the morning. It was as if Amelia became more driven in their fight against Lord Voldemort. To their amazement, Director Ragnarok agreed to it.

Walking alongside them, Amelia and Oswald looked quite nervous—they were at the mercy of the goblins here since their authority did not reach here. They had to be careful about the way they approached the leader of the goblins.

The assistant announced the arrival of the guests. He looked completely out of place as he spoke to the guards quietly. The guards grunted their approval before throwing the two huge doors open. It revealed a large but bare office.

A wooden desk standing in the middle of the room caught their attention. A fierce-looking bronze axe was hung prominently above the desk, reminding the guests of the power and the strength of the leader of a warrior-cultured nation. Harry swore he could smell the faint rusty scent of blood from that weapon.

The leader of the goblins, Director Ragnarok sat behind his desk, watching them closely. There was a fierce and calculative expression on his face. Even though he was dressed in a business suit, it could not mask his savageness. Harry recognised that look on his face—it spoke of a hardened warrior rather than a businessman. Four guards flanked both of his side, prepared to protect their leader. They were all armed with weapons.

Instinctively, Harry and Hermione put their hands on their wands, feeling threatened by the displays of weapons. The wolves in them were prepared for a battle.

"It's fine," whispered Oswald, noticing their stiff stance. He approached the Director of the Gringotts with a polite smile on his face. Harry and Hermione relaxed instantly.

Ragnarok rose to his feet when he saw Oswald approaching. "Good morning, Lord Greengrass, it's a pleasure to meet you again." His voice was raspy but it held authority. Oswald gripped his hand in a handshake, careful of Ragnarok's sharp claws, while returning the pleasantry.

The gaze of the leader of the Goblins turned to focus on Amelia. "Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you, Minister Black. Congratulations. I'm honoured that you would actually meet me after you've been sworn into office. You're unlike your predecessor." There was a hint of respect in his eyes. The goblins respected Amelia for her feats as an Auror.

Amelia took his offered hand firmly. "I'm not Minister Fudge. I do not agree with some of his policies." The goblin smiled—a truly fearful thing as it exposed all his sharp teeth.

"Excellent, then we might get along very well, Minister." Finally, he shifted his attention to Harry and Hermione. Both teenagers greeted the leader of the goblins in their tongue fluently, using their customs.

Ragnarok's eyes widened, shocked. He caught himself staring at the young lord and his wife. Hastily, he returned the greetings, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "I'm impressed, young Lord and Lady Gryffindor. I'm glad that you are like your parents and grandparents—they were the only ones who took the time to be familiar with our customs and our language."

Oswald chuckled—the teenagers didn't need him around to communicate with the goblins as they were far better than him. Besides, he was quite sure that the goblins would get along with Harry and Amelia because they respected them as warriors—their exploits had earned their reverence.

The director gestured them to take their seats. "How can I help you? I admit I was curious when I received the request. It's rare that the four Heads of the Ancient Family would request for a meet." He was a plain-spoken goblin. His eyes fell on Amelia since she was the one who arranged the meeting.

Amelia leaned forward, prepared to talk to the leader of the goblin nation in her capacity as Minister. "The Ministry would appreciate your cooperation. We need the accounts of these families to be frozen as soon as possible." She handed a parchment to him and leaned back into her seat.

The goblin scanned the parchment thoughtfully. "These are prominent families. I noticed that they are also your political enemies, Minister. Gringotts will never be involved in the petty political squabbles of wizards. It will ruin our reputation."

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "Merely political enemies? I'll never put in such a request just to have an edge over my political enemies," retorted Amelia almost coldly. "These are known loyal followers of Lord Voldemort. They resurrected their master recently and are responsible for the deaths in the Ministry."

Ragnarok laced his clawed hands together, holding her gaze. "How would that affect the goblins? It's entirely a fight between the…"

"May I interrupt?" cut in Oswald, crossing his legs. "I recall that the goblins suffered at his hands when Lord Voldemort came into power previously. The previous administration refused to recognised his return even though we had given Fudge proof of his return—Lord Gryffindor was there-"

"What would you know about casualties from the previous war, Lord Greengrass?"accused Ragnarok, his gaze turned steely. "You are a businessman. You continued with your affairs as if nothing had happened. You would know the importance of reputation to a bank. The goblins depend on this bank to keep a semblance of tolerance from you, wizards and, naturally, for survival."

Amelia defended him immediately. "We do. The Ancient houses stand as one. We are a family in all but name. Do not presume. We lost a lot of our family to the war. Haven't you heard? We lost another of our friend last night." Her voice sounded choked for a moment but she persisted. "Lord Voldemort is on the move and he wants to complete what he has started before Harry destroyed his body. We need help to stop him. By freezing these accounts, Lord Voldemort and his followers have no choice but to come out to the open to fight with us."

The leader of the goblins drew a breath sharply. "His body? Not his spirit?" Ragnarok held her gaze. "No matter, what will you give us in return, Minister? We will not gain anything from this alliance and we have been trampled by your kind for ages. Why should we fight alongside with you?"

"Equality," responded Harry, clasping his hands together. His eyes were burning with determination. "For full and unwavering support."

All eyes swirled to him.

The room grew silent at the proclamation.

There was a fierce gleam in Ragnarok's eyes.

"Harry…" began Oswald quietly.

Harry held up his hand and Oswald became silent. "Hermione and I don't see Lord Voldemort as the root of our problem. I must admit that our society is at fault. Even if the Dark Lord dies tomorrow, another one would soon rise to take his place. Britain, at the moment, is a perfect breeding ground for bigot, egomaniacal wizards."

Her eyebrows winged upwards in amusement as Hermione crossed her legs.

Oswald frowned but said naught.

"It's possible. We can forge new treaties to give goblins the same right as wizards but we need your unwavering support. As members of the Wizengamot, we can fight to pass a new constitution after Lord Voldemort has been defeated. If we defeat Lord Voldemort as allies, no one would dare to question about the prowess of the goblins," added Amelia. It was not beyond her capacity as the Minister to do so.

"I know goblins yearned for two things—gold and blood of enemies. It's an honour to fight. Director Ragnarok, should you join us as allies; you will always be remembered and revered for this decision you make today," interjected Hermione, holding his gaze. "As you've said, your people have been trampled for far too long—it's time to prove that you're fearsome warriors."

Ragnarok appeared to be seduced by the idea of restoring the honour of the goblins. Hermione could see the faint gleam of excitement in his eyes. He lowered his gaze, staring at his clawed hands for a moment, organising his thoughts.

Ragnarok considered for a moment. "I must admit that I'm confused," began Ragnarok, looking at the two teenagers. "What is your purpose for being here, Lord and Lady Gryffindor? Surely, it's sufficient for Minister Black to conduct businesses for the Ministry. You've other businesses?"

Harry and Hermione shared a glance, wondering how much they should reveal. It was Harry who spoke. "It is related to our war against Lord Voldemort. We learnt that you might have a way to remove fragments of an unwanted soul from a living person."

The room became deathly silent suddenly. Ragnarok froze in his seat, looking like a stone statue. The warriors gripped their weapons firmly. No one dared to breathe. Amelia and Oswald had their wands in their hands, afraid that they might attack them.

Calmly, Harry held his gaze, waiting for him to respond. Mask had warned him of the goblins' reactions.

"H-How did you learnt of it?" The surprise in the director's eyes was replaced with a calculative look. "It is one of our most guarded secrets."

"A friend who specialised in soul magic told me so."

"Ha! There aren't many non-goblins who know this—Mask would be the only one alive to share that secret with you. She earned the right to know it. However, it would explain his return. So Lord Voldemort is immortal…"

"He is if the horcrux in Harry is not destroyed. We came here to seek the knowledge required to perform that feat without killing Harry since it is essential to winning this battle," added Hermione coolly.

"That puts the discussion on a different footing. Mask earned her right to that knowledge. I'll need to confer with the other elders," replied Ragnarok, returning his attention to the Minister. "If you would excuse me for an hour or so. Would you like refreshments while you wait?"

They nodded and Ragnarok sent his assistant away with instructions. Together with his entourage, he left the office. After a while, his assistant returned with refreshments. They were finally left alone to speak.

Automatically, they casted the usual spells to ensure their privacy.

Oswald glanced at Harry and Hermione. "Good job, both of you. It appears that you're quite familiar with the customs of the goblins. They didn't deny that they could do it, so there is hope. What possess you to offer that, Harry?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "They are a proud nation. It's time we give them a chance to prove themselves that they can stand as equals with us. It will make our proposition in the future easier. Besides, I believe it's the only way to transform Britain. I don't think we can handle a coup like Lord Hugues after Lord Voldemort is defeated. Constant civil war would weaken Britain considerably. The Wizengamot would throw our proposition out of the window if we do it immediately," replied Harry, crossing his ankles while leaning into his chair.

Amelia frowned slightly. "Talking about customs, I'm surprised that they haven't challenged us to a battle to prove our mettle. Our request sounds high-handed even though we are offering something as impossible as equality to them. They would want proof that we can be followed-"

"Through swordfights," added Hermione, fixing her eyes on Harry. "A fair fight between the champions. It is the only thing that will earn their undying respect as a nation of warriors." Harry took her hand and pressed a kiss on her knuckle, holding her gaze.

Hermione continued as if she was not distracted. "Should it boil down to that, I think only Harry is capable to hold his weight in their fights."

Harry lips stretched to form an eager smile.

"What? I forbid you," declared Amelia, glowering.

Hermione frowned, holding her glare." They don't allow magic in fights, only weapons. Harry is proficient with a blade. Am, you're good at battling with wizards, not melee warriors. Uncle Os, you're a good strategist and a businessman, not a fighter. I'm proficient at a gun."

Oswald chuckled at the accurate description of their abilities. "Well, I guess you would have to be our champion should we have to resort to that." It lightened the tension in the room slightly.

"My honour," quipped Harry playfully. "Are you going to wear my colour, my angel?" He pressed a feathery kiss on Hermione's wrist.

Hermione giggled. "That's usually done after a victory, Harry."

"Do you even doubt it?" demanded Harry playfully. He pressed a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"But…" Amelia was not convinced.

"I trust Harry and Hermione's judgement. Hermione wouldn't let Harry take unnecessary risks," interrupted Oswald calmly. "We won't lose another member of the Ancient Family to the war." He was correct at deducing her fears—he saw tears brimming in Amelia's eyes before she wiped them away. He knew that the death of her friends and her family members haunted her. "I think we need to talk about the conditions for the treaty." She took a moment to settle herself before agreeing.

The four Heads discussed about the clauses they wanted to add into the treaty while Hermione wrote the first draft. They had completed the first draft when the doors swung open again.

Ragnarok, accompanied with his entourage of warriors entered the room. He took his seat behind the desk regally. Two other goblins accompanied him. They looked old and they were whispering quietly between themselves when they entered the room.

"These are our Ancients. They are like your head healers, "introduced Ragnarok.

Harry shivered as they assessed him coolly. He could feel power emanating from them. The Ancients were no doubt proficient in Goblin magic. They nodded at Ragnarok when he shot a glance at them. Quietly, they excused themselves.

"I've a few clarifications. You're proposing a treaty with the Ancient family first. After we have proven our mettle, then you would encourage the Ministry to approve a new law establishing us as equals?"

"Yes," answered Amelia, nodding. "At the present moment, I'm quite sure at least half of the members of the Wizengamot support Lucius Malfoy. We can't pass the decree now. In fact, this is what we are proposing."

Hermione handed the first draft of the treaty for Ragnarok to peruse.

Ragnarok dipped his head in a nod. "Fair enough. The conditions are acceptable but you need to prove your worth for us to sign this treaty with you. We want this pact to be bound to the Ancient Families until we have achieved suffrage. As allies, we would be willing help Lord Gryffindor with his problem but it will not be easy. Do you accept these clauses? If you are willing to sign, then send out a champion to battle against our finest warrior. No wands, only melee weapon of your choice."

The assistant took the first draft from the hands of his leader.

As an answer, Harry unsheathed the Sword of Gryffindor. It gleamed as it caught the light. It had been a while since he used it. Silently, he placed a cutting spell on the two edges of the sword. The sword absorbed the spell into its blade becoming a lethal weapon. Hermione transfigured his robes into looser clothes. He ejected his wand and handed it to his wife. "I'll do it. Who do I need to fight?"

The assistant hurried off to add the new clauses and produce the final treaty.

The eyes of Ragnarok gleamed as if he approved of Harry. The young teenager looked like an experienced swordsman with his bulky torso. The way he wielded the sword comfortably showed his familiarity with the weapon. The fight would be exciting and his blood boiled with that excitement. Confidently, he strode to the wall where his large battle-axe was hung. Effortlessly, he picked it up as if the large axe weighted nothing. "I'll be your opponent." He shot a feral smile. "Follow me, Lord Gryffindor."

He led them to an empty room connected to his office. It was bigger than his office providing plenty of space for them to battle. A range of melee weapons were hung on the wall. Harry was quite sure they were more than just decorations.

There was a throne at the end of the room and several seats lining both sides of the room. These chairs were large and comfortable, with armrests. It was clear that important meetings were discussed here. The large ring drawn in the middle of the throne room caught Harry's eye. It almost took up the whole room. It suggested a culture in which problems were solved by fists.

"I'll be fine, Am," promised Harry when Amelia walked past him. She paused for a moment to hold his scrutiny—she saw only determination. She acknowledged with a nod before taking the seats by the sides.

Hermione pressed her lips against his cheek. For luck. Don't get too hurt.

Yes, milady. Your wish is my command. He sunk into a bow, inciting a smile from his wife.

Prat. She joined the rest of the family by the side.

Ragnarok gestured him to take his position in the middle of the circle. "We determine our leader through pitting our physical strength here. I earned my position that way. The rules of this battle are simple. No use of magic is allowed and we end the fight when one of us yields. Are you ready, Lord Gryffindor?"

Harry lifted an eyebrow—Ragnarok was so assured of his abilities that he chose not to wear armour. He whipped out his sword and swung it a few times to warm up his muscles. His sword cut through the air effortlessly. He took a few calming breaths, relaxing himself. He could do it. Toll made sure he could. The Sword of Gryffindor felt like a part of him as he wielded it. "I'm ready, Director."

"No armour, Lord Gryffindor?" There was a hint of astonishment in his voice.

"It wouldn't be fair," answered Harry, regulating his breathing. The goblin grinned, as if proud of his answer. The other goblin warriors began buzzing at his declaration of fighting without armour—they felt that it was foolhardy.

Without warning, Ragnarok charged at him, with his bronze axe swung above his head. His terrifying war cry thundered in the room, shaking the walls. Nimbly, Harry sidestepped him smoothly, shifting to his right so that he could strike him on his underside.

Ragnarok parried his blow with a loud 'clank' before swinging his axe towards his head. Their weapons sang a dangerous tune as they parried and danced around each other. Harry's arm trembled upon every contact of their weapons—Ragnarok was strong and his blows were powerful. His blows would have killed him if they hit their real target.

Harry twisted his blade slightly to deflect his blow and attempted to break through his defence by attacking his weak spots which were his legs. Then, he realised that goblins had the advantage of having a lower centre of gravity.

"You don't fence, I see," commented Ragnarok, grinning. He lunged again, striking Harry's feet. Harry parried the blow easily, leaping out of harm's way. "Your body is familiar to battles."

Harry charged at him, slashing his sword at his right shoulder. Ragnarok barely avoided that blow. There was an expression of shock on his face but Ragnarok replaced it with an emotionless mask. Then, all conversation ceased as they concentrated on fighting.

It was different fighting with a goblin because he had to get used to the difference of height. Besides, it posed a few problems. Due to the difference, Harry usually lost the element of surprise since his body had to adjust slightly to attack his opponent. That slight adjustment would reveal the direction of his next attack should his opponent paid close attention to it. Ragnarok was sensitive to his opponent therefore he would pick up the subtle signs and defend himself.

They were, however, soon engaged in a deadly dance for dominance, parrying, blocking, attacking, rolling and leaping. It was lethally beautiful. They were quick and well-experienced. It was difficult to see who was winning—they were almost equally skilled and strong. Their moves were efficient, swift and lethal, rather than spectacular.

Harry's abilities astounded the goblins who were watching the battle. Harry was young but he was able to pit against the strongest warrior in the goblin nation. He had a promising future as a warrior. In fact, he would be the successor of Ragnarok if he was a goblin. There was a gleam of excitement in the eyes of the goblins—it was rare to see such a high-level battle.

The observers were all drawn into the battle, awed by their skills, their creativity and their nimbleness. Amelia and Oswald were fascinated since they never knew that Harry could fight so well. It spoke of hard work and constant dedication. It made them wonder the capabilities of Hermione and the other teenagers that they were training.

Everyone held their breath as they moved swiftly across the room, trying to defeat each other. Occasionally, they would circle each other as they try to find an opening. It was obvious from their faces that they were enjoying the match.

Hermione bit her lips as she watched, concerned for her husband. Ragnarok was obviously not holding back and he was out for Harry's blood. However, she was proud of Harry—he was holding out very well.

They matched each other, blow for blow. Ragnarok's axe had nicked Harry at a few areas when the powerful goblin was able to surprise him. He reacted fast enough to ensure that they were only shallow cuts. The might of Ragnarok's blow could have maimed him if he was not careful. On the other hand, Harry had also caught him several times as he tried to out-move his opponent. Ragnarok appeared to be surprised when he first wounded him as if no one had ever done so.

Adrenaline pumped through them as they continue to combat against each other. Harry was grinning manically, enjoying every moment of the battle. They continued their dance of fury. Sounds of metal clashing against metal filled the large room.

The battle raged on, neither Ragnarok nor Harry showed signs of fatigue. His physical training was paying off well. Harry's clothes stuck firmly to his body, held by his perspiration. Sweat stung his eyes as Harry stayed focus on the battle. Ragnarok was a difficult opponent—he was so experienced that he could constantly change the manner of his fighting so that Harry couldn't grasp it. He had to be on his guard as he searched for an opening to deal the decisive blow.

He reminded himself to be patient and calm so that he could pick up his weakness.

His opponent was having a difficult time reading his moves. Harry could see the frown on his face when they parried each other's blows.

They went at each other like aggressive rams, smashing their weapons against each other forcefully. Then Harry chose to back off, circling his opponent. He held his sword firmly before him as he moved around Ragnarok, watching him like a hawk.

He was starting to finally understand Ragnarok's fighting style.

Ragnarok was prone to be rash. He was slower when he swung his axe overhead and he had a weaker left arm.

Then, he began to devise a battle plan. If he forced him to exert his left arm, he could reduce the speed of his blows substantially for him to deal the final blow.

Aggressively, he lunged into his space, increasing the speed of blows, trying to force Ragnaork to use his left arm more. His speed increased substantially. He leaped and rolled nimbly as he rained attacks smoothly on his right side, forcing Ragnarok to defend.

Ragnaork frowned even more when he realised that Harry had not lost his strength. Harry's large reserve of energy worried him—it would not benefit him if he prolonged the battle.

Harry observed that he was growing weaker with every paralysing blow Ragnarok took from him. Harry left him no room to dodge so he had to take on the full force of the blow. It was tiring him at a fast rate and Harry knew that he was now prone to be reckless.

It was the perfect moment to carry his next part of his plan.

Deliberately, Harry slowed down as if he was tired of being so aggressive, creating an opening for Ragnarok to deal a fatal blow.

Perceiving it to be Harry's weak spot and anxious to end the fight, he swung his axe overhead, attempting to bring it down on Harry's head, his undefended spot.

It was the opportunity Harry needed to end the fight.

Quickly, he moved to Ragnarok's right, avoiding the blow. Ragnarok was quick enough to react to his change of direction and he brought his axe on his unguarded right leg.

Hastily, Harry feinted to the left but he was not fast enough to dodge the blow completely.

The blunt shaft of the axe crashed onto his thigh with an ugly crack. Scorching pain jolted his whole body as his bone cracked under the force of the blow.

He could hear his family yelling in panic. He paid no heed. He also noticed the slowing down of his next blow. It was exactly as he predicted.

It created the opening he needed.

Smoothly, he dipped and spun on his good leg so that he was on Ragnarok's left. Effortlessly, he pressed his blade on his neck.

Ragnarok's eyes widen open in shock, surprised that he had lost. His face broke into a smile. "I yield, Lord Gryffindor." He dropped his axe onto the floor, announcing his defeat.

Harry grinned, exhilarated that he had won.

The room broke into a loud applause. The goblins were shocked to see that Harry, a wizard, had defeated their leader in a battle of melee weapons.

Harry lowered his sword. His elation was fading away. His bad leg, unable to take his weight, went weak. Before he crashed, he felt a pair of arms holding him up. Her vanilla scent assaulted his sense, drugging him.

"Harry."

Harry wrapped his arms around his wife tightly. Quickly, Hermione healed his injuries. The most severe injury was his broken thigh bone and she healed it with a complex healing spell. The pain disappeared entirely. He tried his leg, putting weight on it and was glad that it was healed.

He won. He had actually beat Ragnarok.

Excitedly, he crushed his lips against hers in an ardent kiss. His blood roared with lust. Hermione held him close to her as they indulged themselves in a loving moment. The kiss ended hastily when Oswald coughed loudly.

Both teenagers leapt apart, blushing. It was rare that they forgot that they had an audience. The other goblins were looking away politely, as if they didn't want to interrupt this tender moment. Amelia and Oswald were chuckling.

Harry hastily lowered his mental shield. Her relief, with a hint of embarrassment flooded their connection. Harry sheathed his sword and shrunk it so that he could hide it in his robes. He snaked an arm around her waist, contented to be close to the person who owned his heart.

"That was a spectacular fight, Lord Gryffindor. I'm honoured to call such a fierce fighter an ally," exclaimed Ragnarok as his healers tended to his injuries. He hastily gulped down a goblet of potion, regaining his strength. Ragnarok ran his hand through the edge of his battle-axe, examining it. "Nicked the edges a bit. The Sword of Gryffindor is a splendid weapon."

A smile stretched across his lips. "It's Harry. I think you shouldn't call me by my title after clashing swords together. You're a brilliant fighter too."

That earned another smile from the leader of the goblins. He gestured them to follow him back to the office so that they could be done with the treaty. Oswald had a copy in his hand and he was examining the clauses carefully to ensure that it was exactly as they had discussed.

Three elders were in the office waiting for them so that they could bear witness to the signing of the treaty between the Ancient Families and the Goblins. They bowed their heads when Ragnarok entered the room with his axe. Almost tenderly, he hung his precious battle-axe on the wall.

When Harry entered the room, he noticed that the goblins warriors bowed in admiration for him. Even though he was an esteemed customer of the goblins, he had never received that much deference.

It's not surprising. You've just beaten their best warrior in a fair match and you are one of their wealthiest patrons, quipped Hermione, grinning.

Ragnarok perused the treaty after inviting them to take a seat. Satisfied that everything was okay, Ragnarok invited them to sign their names with blood quills. Taking the lead, Ragnarok signed his name with his blood before waiting for the rest to sign on the same parchment.

Amelia, Oswald and Harry did the same above their names. They filched when the quill cut into their hands. Their blood became the ink and their signature appearing in blood above their names.

When they were done, a blue light enveloped the leader of the goblin nation and the members of the Ancient Families, announcing the success of the treaty. The force of the magic exploding made the walls vibrate violently for a while.

It marked the dawning of a new era.

The goblins were now allies with the Ancient Families.

Harry wondered if his forefathers would be pleased that they were aligned with the goblins. He was the ally of one of the most powerful French families, the house elves and now the goblins. He wondered at the consequences of having so many allies.

Ragnarok grinned, pleased at the outcome. He began issuing orders to freeze the accounts of the families on the list.

"Perform a mandatory search first," suggested Amelia, frowning. "We believe that Lord Voldemort has created more than one horcrux. Though we have little information on where those horcrux might be, we should begin with his followers. He might have entrusted another to one of his followers. Detain them should they enter it is possible, we would like to have one horcrux intact so that we can trace the others."

With the treaty signed, they could be trusted with the information they had.

The leader of the goblin nation nodded. "We'll see to it." He gave his assistant instructions and he disappeared hastily to carry them out. "We'll inform you if we found any other horcruxes. Harry has proven himself. A group of healers will take you and your mate into another room so that the ritual can be conducted. Lord Greengrass and Lady Black would have to stay because it can be very dangerous."

"Would he be harmed?" asked Amelia worriedly.

"He isn't the first person who had a horcrux in him. We had a witch who had a horcrux removed from her and she survived it. Besides, I think we have other things to discuss. I'm quite sure you have a plan to force Lord Voldemort's hand? Otherwise, you wouldn't want to cut off his finance at this point of time."

Hermione noticed that he did not answer Amelia's question. It did not bode well.

Oswald nodded. "We do. We have reduced a large number of his allies. Most of the werewolves have chosen to join our side. They are willing to fight with us. Some of the giants have chosen to remain neutral. Our representatives were nearly killed by those giants who have already been swayed over to Lord Voldemort's side. "

Harry became excited. He did not know that Moony, Dumbledore and Hagrid had succeeded in their mission.

"Harry, you need to follow the healers," added Ragnarok when he noticed that the two teenagers were still in the room. The healers were outside the door, waiting impatiently for them.

Oswald rose to his feet and embraced him. "We'll see you soon." Oswald was also worried for him but they had no choice but to trust their new ally.

Amelia embraced him. Reluctantly, she let him go. "Take care. Be safe." He nodded.

He felt Hermione grasped his hand. I'll always be by your side, Harry. It was a battle they had to fight and triumphed. It would kick-start the downfall of Lord Voldemort.

Harry nodded, lacing their hands together. Gathering his courage, he followed the healers. They took him upstairs into a larger area. The goblins greeted him politely as they had heard of his victory over Ragnarok. Politely, they took him into a small room where other healers were waiting.

A large circle was drawn in chalk in the middle of the room. A metal chair with restraints stood in the middle of that circle. It was identical to the one in the courtroom of the Ministry. The goblins were dressed in loose robes of white and they were creating a nasty smelling concoction.

Since Harry and Hermione could understand them, they knew that they were preparing a concoction to reduce the pain when they began exorcizing the spirit. Hermione squeezed Harry's hand in worry. Harry could not imagine how much pain he had to endure if he needed to be restrained.

An Ancient greeted them solemnly in the goblin's tongue. Harry and Hermione returned their greetings. He was different from other goblins—he had a long white beard. A small smile appeared on his face when the two teenagers greeted in his tongue. He indicated that Harry could change into looser robes before they could begin. He handed Harry the robes and send him to another room to change.

Hermione lowered his mental shield to stop Harry from overhearing.

"Would it harm us? We are a soul-bonded couple," asked Hermione, expressing her concern. "I know it's going to be a painful process for Harry. Is there any other way to alleviate the pain?"

He shook his head. "We have done all we can. Yes, it will hurt him badly. The spirit will not leave willingly. We will need you to be mildly sedated too. His pain will be too intense for you to bear."

Fear began to pour through her in thick waves. "And Harry?" asked Hermione, trembling. She knew the answer.

His gaze turned emotionless. "He will not. He has to be conscious throughout the whole procedure. He would have to master his will to expel the errant soul."

Hermione gasped. "No, I would rather not be sedated then. We're a couple. I want to fight this battle with him."

Her response surprised him. The Ancient held her gaze. "Are you very sure about this, young lady? There is no point sharing this burden with your mate because the pain will cripple you. There's no reason why both of you have to go through the same pain."

Edmund told them that they were always stronger together. She could not let him go through it alone. Hermione dipped her head into a nod, certain of her decision.

He sighed upon seeing the determination in her eyes. "You're a good mate." He gave instructions to add another chair into the middle of the circle. It was met with a lot of protest since it meant that they had to spend more time in preparation. Reluctantly, the other goblins relented.

The Ancient handed her similar robes to change into. Hurriedly, she went to change her clothes.

Harry was surprised to find Hermione missing when he returned back to the room. The Ancient saw the question in his eyes. "She has chosen to be with you so she is preparing for the ritual."

He froze. "No, she shouldn't." He tried to speak to her through their mental connection but realised that she had blocked him out of his mind. Livid, he began pacing up and down the room like a caged wolf. He hated putting Hermione in any pain or danger.

The Ancient shook his head. "You should accept it, youngling. Be thankful that the Creator gave you such a strong and faithful mate. She is determined to do so. She doesn't want you to be put in any pain too."

Harry paused mid-stride, turning to stare at the Ancient. He knew that he was correct. Harry assumed an impassive face. The Ancient left him to his thoughts as he helped out with the final preparations. When Hermione had returned to the room, Harry was sitting on the chair, his head resting on his hand. He appeared to be weary.

"Harry, are you alright?" asked Hermione, taking the seat next to him.

He lifted his head from his hand, meeting her worried gaze. "I'm not alright with you choosing to go through this with me." He gestured to the two chairs, frowning. He halted her when she began to protest. "However, I'll accept your decision and appreciate it." He sighed, running his hand through his hair, his gaze turning tender. "Don't you know how much I detest putting you in unnecessary pain?" He took her hand, kissing the back of her hand sweetly.

She nodded her head. "As I hate seeing you in pain." The corners of her lips lifted in a small smile. "What would you do in my case, love, if it was mandatory to go through this pain?"

Harry breathed another sigh. "I'd chosen to go through it with you." He had no other options. He chuckled lightly. "Oh, how I love you, Angel."

They grasped each other's hands, lacing their fingers together.

They were offered a goblet of the nasty and smoking potion and they drank it hastily. It tasted worse that the polyjuice they had taken on their second year.

Two goblins physically strapped them in as the other older goblins began the chanting in their tongue. They could feel the surging of magic around them as the Ancients joined in to create a strange song. The waves of magic grew more powerful, swirling around the room.

The ritual had just begun. They could tell from the words that it was a ritual for purification of the soul.

The chalked circle that surrounded them burst into blinding white flames. Unaffected, the goblins continued singing and chanting in their raspy voices. The white flames began to sway and dance violently as their chants and song grew louder.

The flames appeared as if they were made up of spirits dancing to the song of the goblins. Harry swore he could see an outline of a person in the fire when he stared hard into the flames.

Concentrate.

He felt thick waves of serenity flooding through him via their mental link. Hermione, instead of paying attention to her surroundings, had chosen to mediate. It allowed the magic evoked by the chanting to wash smoothly through her, like streams of water. Then, Harry remembered.

Master Chengtze had always reminded them to be one with their environment so that they could ride on the waves of the magic that surrounded them. It was more efficient. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to calm down to become one with the magic that was swirling around the room.

Almost instantly, his scar burnt him.

A scream tore out of him. He strained against the straps, shaking violently. It felt as if someone had pressed a scalding hot iron on his forehead. He released her hand, screaming out of agony. Intense pain struck him, paralysing him. He couldn't focus on anything besides the torment.

Hermione was also screaming from pure anguish. Their screams intertwined and echoed throughout the room, mixing with the solemn chants and song of the goblins. It brought tears to the observers with gentle souls.

"Willed it to leave, youngling. Concentrate and will the spirit to leave now!" yelled the Ancient. He was desperate. "Concentrate. Please concentrate."

Harry was struggling violently against his restraints, yelling. The straps cut into his flesh. Pain wrecked his body in torrent. It hurt. It hurt everywhere. His body felt as if it was on fire. It burnt and scorched him. The concoction did nothing to reduce the pain. The torture intensified and he was now begging internally.

Please. Please stop. Please let me die.

He would do anything to stop the pain, even if it meant giving up his life. It overwhelmed him, reducing him to a small child. It was far more than physical pain, he was hurting inside too.

He never felt so alone. He found himself in complete darkness.

Gripping his armrest, he cried in agony.

It was like getting whipped by his uncle all over again. Then, images appeared. He saw his uncle whipping him recklessly with a belt. It was like pouring bleach into a deep open wound. He saw himself pouring bleach into his wound to disinfect that deep wound so that he could save his leg. He saw himself being abused by his relatives again. He was a child again, at the mercy of his cruel relatives.

"You're freak."

Pain.

"You're the cause of your parent's death. You'll cause your loved ones to die."

Agony.

The accusations tore his soul apart. It was not true. It was not true. It was not true. He sobbed, crying out for mercy. He fell to his knees. The pain was too much to bear.

He couldn't take it anymore.

Kill me. Please.

Then, he saw a faint tendril of white light trying to penetrate through the darkness. He appeared to be trapped in a translucent black bubble. It appeared like a dim beam of light but it felt like a tendril of serenity. The attempt was weak but it was working.

He stopped sobbing.

Pain appeared to be letting up.

Slowly, it tried to pierce through that bubble of pain that enveloped him like thick black armour. It looked stretchable but firm. That faint tendril was getting brighter and more solid. It was almost as sharp as a spear, penetrating the skin of the bubble.

Images from his past were reduced to soundless moving images. They flickered at the back of his mind. He was more focus on that sole beam of light that was reaching out for him. The accusations were muted.

Realisation struck him. It was reaching for him, determined to make that connection.

He wasn't alone.

His spirits lifted up slightly at the thought. He wasn't alone.

The pain did not let up.

Harry tried to muster all his will, reaching out to connect with that strain of tranquillity. However, it was slow and tedious. It was like trying to push against a concrete wall. The bubble of pain stretched, clinging to his mind like a fearful child. It neutralised his attempts at reaching out.

He was getting desperate.

It was too excruciating and slow. He was too weary to reach for it but he persisted with his will. The thought that it was Hermione's way of trying to reach him, kept him fighting to break out of the bubble. He thought of the effort she was putting and her love; he felt strengthened again. With that sudden burst of energy, he leapt to reach out for that tendril.

And, they made the connection.

There was no mistake it was Hermione.

Relief and love poured through him in the form of white light. The white light filled up the bubble of pain, pushing the black surface away from him. The warmth of their love enveloped him; renewing him, strengthening him and giving him hope that he could triumph.

He felt her acceptance and her affirmation.

I'm here, Harry. We can do it.

He trusted their love. He trusted the partner of his soul.

Their love swept away the images of his past and the accusations. He felt appreciated and loved. His best friend and his wife adored and admired him.

The bubble began to expand. Harry felt the pain lessening considerably as he focused only on the warmth of their love. He felt her joy and that made him smile. He remembered their first kiss in her backyard. He remembered the first time watching his bride walking towards him.

Joy overwhelmed him.

Physically, she grasped his hand gently.

The bubble struggled violently against the white light.

Harry remembered the first time they made love. He remembered how right and wonderful it felt. He had never felt so completed and whole.

Suddenly, the white light burst, completely decimating the bubble. It felt as if a large boulder had been lifted from his soul. Then, the strange sensation of freedom filled him. He was free! He was free!

He never felt so alive and so free!

Harry opened his eyes to look at his wife. Hermione met his gaze, smiling. It communicated her adoration for him. He squeezed her hand tightly, too overwhelmed to speak.

Harry knew not the words to express how he felt. He wasn't too sure if "I love you" was sufficient to express the feelings that were surging him in thick waves.

She nodded as if she understood what he meant and he returned a smile.

Hermione was truly his soul-bond mate.

The chanting and the haunting song of the goblins had faded. Two goblins released them from their physical restraints. Immediately, he leapt out of his seat to kiss her, hoping to convey his love through that action.

They held each other close, letting their love to cleanse and wash through them. A white light surged from them and enveloped them.

The magic from them lifted the spirits of the goblins. It washed them like water from the gentle streams, filling them with joy and peace.

While the teenagers were conveying their gratitude to each other, the Ancient trapped the dark mist in an unbreakable bottle. He smiled at the level of devotion they had shown to each other. He had never seen such powerful love.

"Heavenly couple," murmured the ancient goblin in awe. The wounds on both of their body healed magically.

The teenagers broke apart after a while. The light dissipated immediately. Both Hermione and Harry felt refreshed and whole even though they had gone through a gruelling psychological battle. The ancient goblin handed them the jar which consist Riddle's soul. "Here you go. Well done, young ones."

Harry and Hermione smiled at each other. Together, they took the jar. "We'll hand it to Amelia. She'll be able to pass it to Mask."

Their eyes gleamed with hope. They could beat Lord Voldemort soon.


Miles away, a dark figure sitting on his concrete throne started writhing and yelling in agony. He dropped onto the ground, as if he was having a fit. It was a dark cellar and there were many followers before him.

His masked followers were in a panic—they did not know what to do. "Send for Snape. He'll have a potion, "yelled one of the followers. Hastily, someone followed his order.

The Dark Lord was having spasms, screaming in pain. Froth appeared at the side of his mouth. The followers cleared the area so that he would not be injured while having a fit.

It was minutes later when the pain completely subsided. It felt almost like ages for the followers. They were afraid of the aftermath. Lord Voldemort gained back his consciousness after a few moments. There was panic in his eyes as he climbed onto his feet, weakened by the assault. He leaned heavily into his throne.

He closed his eyes, trying to organise his thoughts.

"Send for Bella. I have some questions for her. Lucius, I need you to accompany me on a trip." There was urgency in his voice that made the followers worried. Their master was always confident. They didn't know what made him so fearful.

A death eater hastily scurried away to fetch her. He could tell that his master was in a terrible mood. He would soon explode in anger.

Lucius fell onto his knees. "Milord, is it prudent? You just…"

"Crucio! Crucio!"

Lucius collapsed onto the ground, yelling in agony. He was left to writhe in pain until the pain completely subsided. Finally, he opened his eyes, panting. Breathing heavily, he slowly climbed onto his knees. It was excruciating but he had no choice. Weakly, he used his cane for support.

A smile of glee appeared on Lord Voldemort's face. "Do not ever question me, my slippery friend. I'm fine. I need to check. Assemble some of our men. I want to prepare a surprise for Harry Potter soon."

The other followers sunk to their knees and intoned. "Yes, milord."

"Very good." Despite their preparations, Riddle felt nervous. He needed to check on his horcruxes soon.


Ancient arches of solid white marked the threshold of the old cathedral by the river Thames. State funerals were usually held at the Ministry; however, they decided to make an exception for Alastor Moody who wanted his final journey to be done on the river like the famous painting of Ophelia.

As a sign of unity, all the members of the four Ancient families and their allies chose to attend the funeral together: the Potters, the Grangers, the Greengrasses, the Blacks, the Bones, the Diggories, the Weasleys, the Longbottoms, the Lovegoods. In pairs or threes, they exited out of the apparition point into the side chamber. The teenagers huddled together as a group as if seeking solace in their unison. The Aurors recognised their faces instantly and they bowed at the sight of their new Minister for Magic. She hastily stopped them since she knew them personally.

Quietly, she spoke to them individually since she knew them, offering words of comfort. Alastor was a well-respected mentor to almost all the Aurors and his sudden death was a blow to them. Sirius hovered patiently by her side, a faint frown of concern on his face.

The tiff they had in the afternoon was still fresh in his mind. Their argument played in his head like a recording as he watched her offer comfort to her men almost as if she owed them. His eyebrows furrowed deeply.

He lifted a brow when he felt someone placing his or her hand on his shoulder. He couldn't believe his eyes when he realised it was Oswald. Sirius was astonished to see understanding and grief in the older Lord's eyes but Sirius nodded gratefully. It was rare that Oswald would tacitly support him.

He expelled a sigh, relaxing his shoulders slightly. He wasn't the only one who thought that way. Oswald stepped back into his place, next to his wife, when Amelia glanced fleetingly at them. She held Sirius's gaze for a moment. Noticing nothing amiss, she returned her attention back to her men.

Following the lead of the Minister for Magic, the Ancient Families and their allies entered the cathedral where the funeral was held. The hallowed cathedral was a sea of black. The solemnness was enhanced by the cold concrete and panelled wood walls. There was an archaic church organ built at the front of the church, constructed so that its massive pipes blend with the majestic chamber, with its intricate designs of cherubic angels playing with their golden harps. It was as high as the ceiling of the church—almost three stories tall.

Soft and grave music was played in the background, befitting the mood.

Eyes swirled to fix on them when the Ancient Families and their allies entered. Almost instantly, everyone rose to their feet at the sight of the new Minister for Magic.

Her eyes were fixed on the coffin at the front of the stage. Quietly, she made her way forward so that she could pay respects to her mentor. Harry, Hermione and Susan trailed behind them, with solemn looks on their faces. Harry had his arms around Hermione. Both of them were more concern about paying respects to their teacher rather than the media attention they might get from their attendance as a couple.

There was a look of disbelief on Jean's face as she gazed at the coffin. It was a physical reminder of the war that her children were involved in—they had already lost someone close to them.

The members of the Order nodded respectfully at them when the Ancient Families and their allies walked past. The sight of the Grangers in formal non-magical clothes did not arouse the interest of the crowd.

Alastor Moody looked completely at rest, lying in the satin interior of the mahogany coffin. The age lines on his face had faded away, making him look younger and peaceful. Hermione turned into Harry's embrace and sobbed silently when she caught sight of him—his death had finally struck home. Harry wrapped his arms helplessly around her, knowing that there was nothing he could do to alleviate her pain. Her anguish echoed his feelings.

Luna, with tears in her eyes, enveloped the couple in an embrace. She was joined by Neville, who had tears clinging onto his eyes. Sirius directed them to the side so that the others could step forward to see Alastor for the final time.

The sight of her mentor lying in his coffin filled her with regret—she could only stare stonily at his body. She felt responsible. He wouldn't have died if they were so bloody concern about playing safe. Sirius gently led her to a seat so that she could have some time to compose herself for the eulogy.

The Greengrasses were visibly upset when they paid their last respect to Alastor. He was a teacher to both Astoria and Daphne. He was also a close friend of Oswald and Felicia. Oswald respected his dedication as an Auror. Cedric wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, distressed that they had lost an outstanding professor.

Fred had a comforting arm around Susan as she grieved. Gently, he led her to the side so that she could cry her heart out.

Remus had managed to rush back for the funeral. Tonks, upon catching sight of him, dived into his embrace to sob. Remus gently led her aside to comfort her, away from prying eyes. Dumbledore was shell-shocked to know that his friend had passed away. There were tears in his eyes when he approached the coffin to pay his respects—he had known him for decades and worked closely with him. For a moment, he looked exactly an old man, grieving.

The service promptly began with Amelia's eulogy. After the crowd had settled in, she climbed up the platform to address the crowd in a eulogy.

Her attire suitably conveyed grief but her body posture hinted of strength and fortitude. There were tear-streaks on her face but her voice was steady and firm when she spoke. "We gather here tonight to bid farewell to one of the most amazing I had the opportunity to meet, Alastor Moody. He was quite charming then and a very dedicated Auror. He took me under his care when I was still a tenderfoot, an Auror, just fresh out from training." Her lips curled to form a smile. "I can't remember the number of times we saved each other's lives while I was under his tutelage. I knew I could always count on him to cover my back and he never let me down."

Tears were brimming in her eyes when she looked at the peaceful face of her mentor. "He was a wonderful Auror and he was unmatchable in terms of skills. However, I know the DMLE will always think of him fondly when they have to undergo training. His training was harsh and almost hellish. I mean they were honestly horrid. Many of the Aurors can testify to it. I'm not too sure if anyone would be able to think up of such difficult and painful training now that he's in a better place." She searched the crowd and noticed that most of the Aurors were laughing.

The members of the Order were sitting on the second row, joined them in their laughter since he was their instructor for magical re-training.

"Of course, we will always remember the lessons that Alastor had taught us—constant vigilance and persistence. Even though I'm no longer in the DMLE, I'll always live to fulfil the promise that I made when I was first sworn as a Director of DMLE—We'll create a DMLE that Magical Britain can be proud of—a force to be reckoned with. I'll fight to maintain the peace that Britain enjoys after the end of the previous war. Thank you, Alastor, for making this world a better place. It's too soon for us to say goodbye to you but it is really time for you to rest. Farewell, my mentor and friend. You'll always be sorely missed." She turned to face her mentor for the last time and took a short bow. Carefully, she placed a white rose in his coffin. Silently, she made a promise that she would make sure that his death was not in vain, even if she had to sacrifice her life.

They were already making progress and she hoped that he could really rest in peace.

Someone fielded a question. "How did Alastor Moody and Cornelius Fudge died? The Ministry hasn't even made a statement even though two prominent members of the society have passed away."

Her eyes fell upon the speaker. It was a young upstart reporter from the Daily Prophet—she knew his type, anxious for news so that he could make his break. Carefully, she scanned the crowd, noticing that they were waiting anxiously for her response.

There was a frown on Oswald's face.

"Senior Auror Moody was accompanying ex-Minister Fudge into his cell when there was a breakout. They were presently murdered. The case is still under investigation. The DMLE will get to the bottom of this," concluded Amelia briskly. She stepped off the stage to join with her family members. She smiled in appreciation when she felt Sirius putting an arm around her.

The crowd moved forward to put a flower into his coffin and say their final goodbyes in a stream. His empty coffin began to fill up with beautiful and bright flowers of every kind. When the crowd had finally returned to their seats, Kingsley shut the cover of the coffin.

Eight coffin bearers, who were students of Alastor, lifted the coffin onto their shoulders instead of just using magic to levitate it. Two lines of Aurors in their uniforms created a path for the coffin-bearers to take. They spaced themselves evenly, forming two lines that reached the river bank.

When Alastor was carried past them, the Aurors lifted their wands in respect for the Auror. The crowds followed quietly along and watched as they set the coffin on the surface of the waters so that it could drift away.

Dumbledore's phoenix soared above them. It was a sight to behold—the splendid fiery bird cut through the air like a sharp knife. He sang as he lingered around the crowd. Dumbledore cast a fire phoenix to the air, in honour of Moody's contributions to the Order.

Solemnly, Harry cast waterproof flames on his body. The crowd watched as the coffin drifted down the river until it completely disappeared from their sight.

His ashes would rest in the Thames as he wished for.


The adults chose to bury themselves in their work after the funeral, leaving the teenagers alone. Sirius, together with Mask and Moony had taken charge of the project to create an object to search for Riddle's horcruxes. They had started work immediately since they had a horcrux.

Amelia had thought of a way to solve two of her biggest problems—the weakness of the Ministry's offensive forces and employment of the werewolves.

Amelia had offered a job to all of them—she offered to create an offensive force with them. The Ministry's attack force relied primarily on magic to deal with their adversaries. They would have problems if they had dealt with creatures which were resistant to magic like the giants. Werewolves were physically superior to normal witches and wizards and they could be a force to be reckoned with if they had the right training.

Oswald, on the other hand, had to deal with overseeing the building of facilities for the werewolves. Together, the teenagers headed over to Florean Fortescue's ice-cream parlour for some sundaes. It was the last day of their holiday, so they wanted to spend some time enjoying the last few hours of their holiday.

They were unusually quiet even though it was a while since they last saw one another. Luna was holding onto Neville for support. Fred hovered worriedly over Susan since she was so upset. Their sundaes were left largely forgotten.

"It was Riddle's work, isn't it?" asked George, breaking the silence.

Harry dipped his head. "He was dead when we arrived." He felt sombre, after attending the funeral of his ex-professor.

"How did you know it was his work then?" questioned Fred, lifting a brow.

Harry tapped onto his scar.

"Oh." Fred did not ask any more questions, choosing to eat his ice-cream. His eyes continued to shift to Susan once a while to check that she was fine.

"Harry! What happened to your scar?" demanded Daphne, surprised. The rest of the teenagers stared at him and realised what was wrong—the scar had faded away, leaving a faint shadow.

"Oh, it has disappeared," announced Hermione excitedly. "So, it worked. Harry is no longer a horcrux."

There was silence around the table for a while. Then, they burst out cheering.

"How? How did you do it?" demanded Luna excitedly, grabbing Harry's hand. He had to wait for them to calm down before he could explain.

"The goblins had a ritual." He shuddered at the memory of it. It felt as if he was going through hell. Hermione squeezed his hand comfortingly. "We had a meeting with the goblins this morning and we signed a treaty with them. They will be assisting us in the war."

He allowed his gaze to wander to the crowds swirling around Diagon alley. Diagon alley was filled with families since the semester in Hogwarts was starting the next day. They looked so cheerful and excited, so oblivious of the impending battle that was on their doorstep. The exhilaration from the removal of the horcrux faded away.

All of a sudden, the temperature plunged drastically.

Fear gripped their hearts. It couldn't be.

Then, screams of fright filled the air. It shattered the peaceful moment. People were now running away in panic, like tiny alarmed ants. They were fleeing in different directions and they could not tell what the source of panic was.

"Dementors."

The teenagers leapt to their feet, their wands in their hands. Susan hastily created a portkey and sent Astoria back since she was not trained for battle.

The sky darkened and they saw them.

Hundreds of Dementors were flying towards them. They looked like a black cloud with their numbers. Hastily, the teenagers concentrated on a happy thought and shot their patronus. It was difficult to maintain such powerful patronus for long periods of time. They formed a giant net, under the direction of their masters, to drive the cloud away from the crowd. Harry's stag led the attack, charging at the bulk of the masses.

"Net them. We have to destroy them!" commanded Harry loudly. His patronus responded to his command.

"No, there's just too many," protested Hermione when she realised what Harry was going to do. "You will tire yourself."

Harry ignored her protest because he was going to use the heat energy present to assist him. Pointing his hand towards the cloud, he set the whole cloud on fire. Their screams of anguish filled the place as the spirits were completely burnt by Harry's element. Soon, the sky began to rain flaming ashes. Now, they had another problem on their hands. They faced the possibility of being burnt.

Instantly, Hermione gathered the water droplets in the sky to create a thin layer of water barrier. The flaming ashes were doused as they pass through the layer, falling like black autumn leaves on the ground and buildings in Diagon alley.

Healers appeared to tend to the injured. It appeared as if many people were injured from the stampede. Then, they heard the screams and they turned to that direction.

Then, they saw.

Most of the teenagers paled.

A man in a suit was lynched at a tree. It looked as if his neck was going to break anything from the weight it had to support. The non-magical was obviously dead. He noticed a parchment pined on his chest.

As he approached to look at the parchment, Harry's knee buckled and he collapsed onto the ground.

"No. No. No."

It was his uncle.

The parchment was written in blood.

My special gift to you, Lord Gryffindor.

Hell broke loose when people took note of the Dark Mark floating above that tree. It symbolised the beginning of a new war.


A/N: Thank you for reading. I appreciate the feedback from the previous chapters. I've made the appropiate changes to the previous chapter. I'm planning to complete this story before I begin a new semester, but with the plan I have, I'm not too sure if I'm able to accomplish it. Blessed day, everyone.