AN: And…we're back. I'm sorry it took so long, I got caught up in my other WIP. That story is finished now, so I can focus entirely on this. I don't know if I'll be able to keep to my original plan of one chapter a week, but I highly doubt there'll be another four month+ wait.

Thanks for your patience!


Chapter 9

"We made a mistake," Albus said, holding the Elder Wand up and allowing it to fill his entire field of vision. "We should not have done that, Gellert. The actions we took, the brutality we exhibited…many unintended consequences will strike at us. We crossed a line."

"Feh," Gellert spat, waving a hand irreverently, "you gave them nothing less than what they deserved. Leaving your enemies alive would have been foolishness of the highest order."

"Lucius certainly deserved to die. Narcissa may not have. What we did to them, however, was not an execution. It was an atrocity, nothing less."

Barking out a harsh laugh, Gellert rose and began to pace in front of Albus' chair with his hands flexing convulsively.

"Shall I tell you what an atrocity is, Albus? You know nothing of crossing lines, nothing of exhibiting brutality. I do. And I say that we acted appropriately."

"It was wrong," Albus said, lowering the wand and fixing his gaze upon Gellert's face. "And we should not have done it."

"It was necessary! Your enemies must learn to tremble at the very thought of you, they must know that death is preferable to crossing you! How do you plan to achieve that without giving them a symbol? Now, whenever they think to act against you, they will remember the Malfoys and they will falter. What we did was entirely needed."

Albus' eyes closed, a shudder shaking his body.

"I have never wanted to be an object of fear," he whispered. "I only ever wished to sway the people with my ideas, not with force."

His head rocked back suddenly, a burning pain shooting through his cheek.

He was on his feet before his eyes had even opened, his wand aimed at Gellert.

Defiance seemed to radiate from Gellert, a sneer twisting his lips as he rubbed life back into his hand.

"Wake up, Albus," he hissed. "You have decided to drag this country into morality. How did you possibly expect to do that without frightening them? Did you think your talk of love would inspire them to cast aside their greed? Did you think that Voldemort would surrender if he sees that you are willing to fight? Wake up, or you will receive far worse than a slap in the face."

His heart began to calm, the adrenaline that had momentarily flooded him beginning to recede.

"Threats, Gellert? I thought you better than that."

Gellert's eyes blazed with an inner fire, his nostrils flaring as he took a step toward Albus and spoke with a voice as cold as ice.

"Not a threat. A promise. If you are not willing to do whatever is necessary, you are going to lose, Albus. Do you even know what that means? Do you have any idea what it means to watch your work crumble around you? Yes, what you did to the Malfoys was unjust. But you do not have the luxury of relying on justice to take its course. You must do whatever is necessary to ensure that Voldemort falls to you."

The Elder Wand hummed in his hand, vibrating softly at the siren's call of justified violence.

"It is not necessary for me to adopt my enemies' tactics. Torture for the sake of inspiring fear is not-"

Growling something that sounded vaguely like a German insult, Gellert spun around, lashing out and punching the wall hard enough to make the whole shack rattle.

"Why did you break me out? So that you could ignore my advice and treat me like the devil on your shoulder? LISTEN TO ME, GODDAMNIT!"

"I did not free you so that I could become you at your worst-"

"You miserable, self-righteous bastard," Gellert hissed, his voice colder than Albus had ever heard it. "You are perfect in all ways, is that it? You could never become a monster, not the great Albus Dumbledore. That's what I'm for, so that you have someone else to blame for anything immoral that you do!"

"While you," Albus said, the anger he now felt making the wand vibrate harder in his hand, "are so egotistical that if I so much as express any self-doubt you can perceive it as nothing but a personal attack."

"Did you really believe that you would be able to take control of this miserable country of yours and defeat this upstart so-called dark lord without crossing any boundaries? Whatever happened to the man willing to conquer the world by my side?"

The anger draining out of him and leaving only fatigue and the full weight of his age, Albus shook his head and spoke softly.

"He died along with his sister."

"Then what is your plan? How do you possibly think to achieve your goals if you will not do what is necessary?"

Albus dropped back into his chair, the Elder Wand disappearing up his sleeve.

"Originally," Albus said, "I was planning on fighting Voldemort while dealing with the corruption that so infects this country. But with the change of Minister, it may be that I will not have to simply take control."

"Why don't you? You could do a far better job than any of them."

Albus stared at the bare wall, remembering the arguments he'd had with himself so many times over so many decades.

"Men such as us, Gellert, possess far more intelligence and magical skill than the average witch and wizard. But we are still men. We are not gods; we are not infallible or omniscient. And the mistakes we make have far greater consequences."

"But-"

"It would be all too easy," Albus interrupted, "for me to simply rule over them. How many chances was I given to do just that? but if I were to seize that power, there would be nothing to keep me in check, no-one to call me to task if I were to become tyrannical."

"And so you will allow them to mire themselves deeper in their corruption and ruin this land even further."

"The Ministry is aware that I will no longer sit idly by the wayside," he said, forcing himself to be patient. "And they will assist me with Voldemort. If, however, they force me to do so, I will deal with them as well. But I will not continue with such actions as we have already committed. I will not carry out such atrocities."

In a flash, Gellert stepped forward and leaned over, resting his arms on the sides of Albus' chair.

"It was necessary," he spat. "Entirely and utterly needed. No, it was not just, it was not kind. Yes, the wife was a casualty of war. But sometimes, one must focus on the more important things."

"It is, after all," Albus said bitterly, "For the greater good."

Gellert reeled, looking like he was the one to have been slapped.

"Have you forgotten who came up with that phrase in the first place?"

"I was-"

"And tell me," Gellert continued, blotches of colour now standing out on his cheeks. "You've said that if need be, you will destroy the horcrux in the boy yourself. Is that not putting the needs of the many above the needs of an individual?"

"Peace, Gellert," Albus said softly, holding up a hand. "I will do what needs to be done. I am simply afraid of falling into the same trap as you did, once upon a time."

Gellert turned away from him with a snort, his hands balling themselves into fists again.

Still facing the wall, Gellert spoke, sounding like he wanted to scream.

"And so, now that your boring self-recriminations are over, what do you plan?"

"For now, it appears that the Ministry will remain on our side. However, I do not yet know how they will react to what we did to the Malfoys. It is possible, of course, that they will not put out a warrant for our arrests, but with Alastor taking the position that he has…"

Closing his eyes, Albus emptied his mind, banishing all the background noise of his thoughts and allowing himself to focus on the problem at hand.

"If the Ministry does not begin to cause problems," he said, "We will continue as we were. Our first order of business is the destruction of Voldemort's horcruxes."

"And finding them all," Gellert said snidely, "that's rather important as well."

"Of course, it is. I still believe that one of them is hidden somewhere in Hogwarts. Jeremy is, as you know, finding what I believe will be the key to another. And that simply leaves Nagini, the Cup in the Lestrange Vault, and Harry."

"Not to mention dealing with everything he will throw against us in the meanwhile."

Albus nodded, forcing himself to not give in to his fatigue.

"I believe," he said, standing up again. "That we have much to plan. But I meant what I said, Gellert. I will do what I must, but I will not condemn myself in the process."


Bleary-eyed, Harry stretched his hand out to his bedside table, searching for his glasses. After a few seconds of his hand closing on empty air, he rolled over, yawning as he looked around.

For a moment, confusion struck at the unfamiliar surroundings.

Then it all clicked back into place.

'Yeah. This is Sirius' place, the safehouse in Wales.'

Sirius was clearly awake and apparently had a visitor over; Harry could just make out the sounds of conversation from downstairs, too muted to actually hear any specific words.

He spent the next few minutes just lying there, allowing the events of the past day to play out through his mind.

Slowly, he processed it all, his mind waking up and casting off the confusion of sleep.

It was utterly insane how much had happened in such a short time. It seemed like he hadn't been given a chance to just think, from the moment when Dumbledore had arrived at Hogwarts and retaken the school, until Sirius had sat him down and explained about the Order's internal politics.

Of course, everything had been moving, one thing after another. But he'd allowed himself to be tossed around like a piece of driftwood, he'd allowed events to just pull him along.

He'd spent the whole of the previous day reacting to everything that was thrown at him, instead of acting in the first place.

Hell, he'd barely done anything during the fight at the Ministry. The Death Eaters had almost got him, multiple times.

If not for Sirius and Dumbledore, they would have gotten him.

An icy fist clenched at his heart, his stomach twisting.

He sat up, glancing over at the innocuous-looking orb on his bedside table.

It was still glowing softly, a misty blueish-white light emanating from it.

So small, to have been something of such importance. So small, for something that had affected the course of his life from before he was even born.

Voldemort believed the prophecy had power, that the prophecy decided what the future would be.

It didn't matter whether he was right or wrong about that. All that mattered was that Voldemort thought he was right, and so he'd never stop coming after Harry, not as long as they both were alive.

He wouldn't be able to avoid those types of situations in the future, couldn't stay away from fights. Voldemort, Harry knew, wanted him dead.

He couldn't rely on other people always being there to fight for and rescue him.

But what could he do?

Harry knew that he was good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, no question about that, but Voldemort had been a prodigy years before even Harry's parents were born. Voldemort had decades of experience under his belt, and far more knowledge than Harry could possibly hope to learn in a short time.

Especially after seeing Dumbledore and Voldemort duelling, even though he'd only caught glimpses of it, Harry was certain that he wouldn't be able to beat the dark wizard in that type of fight.

And yet…

Nearly a year ago, he'd duelled Voldemort and survived. True, that had been in great part due to the brother-wand effect and not to his prowess, but he'd done more than most people could have.

He could certainly do whatever he could to make sure that if, when, he faced Voldemort again, he'd have the greatest chance of survival.

'Don't forget the Death Eaters. Dumbledore and Voldemort might be in a league of their own, but most of the Death Eaters aren't.'

A strange warmth spread out in his stomach, a mixture of encouragement and determination.

By God, the Death Eaters wouldn't find him easy pickings.

Nor any of the DA either, if he could help it.

A muffled swear filtered in from the floor below, punctuated by a loud thump.

'It's already noon,' Harry realized with a glance at his watch. 'Damn, that was a long sleep. I needed it, but I wonder what's been going on in the meantime?'

A few minutes later, freshly dressed, Harry entered the kitchen to find Sirius and Lupin sitting at the small table with a mug in front of each of them.

Their conversation died as he walked in, both of them turning to face him. Lupin took advantage of the pause to take a sip of his drink, a grimace flashing across his face.

"The sleeper awakens!" Sirius announced, giving one of the empty chairs a few pats. "So, the bed wasn't too hard, was it?"

"Uh, no," Harry said, slightly thrown by Sirius' cheer. It felt frenetic and unnatural, like Sirius was trying to force some light-heartedness into a rough situation.

Lupin and Sirius both looked as if they were attempting to hide distress; Dark, heavy bags hung under Lupin's eyes, the lines on his face more pronounced than ever. The corner of Sirius' mouth was twitching restlessly, a shadow hanging on his face somehow belying the light streaming in through the drapes.

"What happened?" Harry asked, thick dread pooling in his intestines. "Voldemort did something, didn't he?"

Lupin nodded grimly, draining his mug.

"Yeah," Sirius sighed, his shoulders sagging as the frantic energy drained out of him. "He did. We knew he'd react, but we weren't prepared for this."

"What did he do?"

"Muggle attack," Sirius answered, "near Liverpool. Used a giant. The Obliviators are working overtime, but he hit Azkaban too, so lots of Aurors have been diverted to deal with that. And then…"

"Azkaban? But they broke out all the Death Eaters ages ago, didn't they?"

"Death Eaters aren't the only people kept in Azkaban. Plenty of other scum for him to recruit, if that's what he's after. But more than that. The Dementors have abandoned the island. They're on the loose, free to do whatever they want."

It sounded like a nightmare; Dementors, spreading around England and attacking anyone they came across.

God, Muggles wouldn't even be able to see them. They wouldn't know why they were suddenly feeling hopeless and despondent, they wouldn't be able to see the creatures approaching them and lowering their hoods to use their most vile weapon.

He shivered, aware of the bizarre incongruity of sitting in the brightly-decorated kitchen with the sun warming his arms and talking about this.

"What can we do about that? The Order's doing something, right?"

Sirius and Lupin glanced at each other, some communication passing between them.

"The Order's in shambles, right now," Lupin finally said, his voice hoarse. "Harry...the Death Eaters were very busy last night. They went after us."

Harry's blood turned to ice, their faces flashing before his eyes.

'Not the Weasleys. At least not the Weasley, please.'

"Who?"

His question came out in a croak, his throat suddenly dry.

Sirius placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, his face growing softer.

"The Weasleys are all ok," he said, "but they were attacked. They're fine, Harry. The Burrow got burned down, but they all got out in time."

"Tonks' parents aren't," Lupin said. "Ted, her father, he...he's dead. And they kidnapped her mother."

Hot guilt flashed through him, burning self-disgust at his immediate thought of 'At least it wasn't someone I know well.'

'Fuck,' he thought, 'Poor Tonks.'

"Everyone's in shambles," Sirius continued, "They went for Hestia's mum, but she wasn't home. No-one's heard from Mundungus, but we don't know if that means something or not, with him. There's some talk about something that happened in Knockturn Alley, but no-one's sure what it was. And…"

Sirius paused for a moment, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze.

"Harry," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle, "they took your aunt and uncle too. At least, they've vanished, and Arabella Figg has as well."

Harry sat there, stunned, his eyes locking onto the wallpaper's cheerful dancing pixies.

A part of him felt like laughing gleefully; after all of Vernon's rants about the Wizarding World, Harry was quite sure he'd be more than glad to have some wizards come and rescue him now.

That part was immediately crowded out as shame, guilt, and fear stepped in to wave their flags in Harry's head. He may have hated his aunt and uncle sometimes, but he'd never have wished Voldemort's attention on them.

They'd never exactly treated him well, but they'd taken him in. They were still family, no matter how much he often wished they weren't.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying, without much success, to carry out Snape's instructions for Occlumency.

'Don't think about it now. You'll have time to deal with this later.'

"Harry? Do you-"

'I'm fine," he said, opening his eyes again. "I'm fine, Sirius."

Lupin looked as if he were about to speak, a concerned expression appearing on his face.

"Ok," Sirius said, giving Harry's shoulder another squeeze, "But you know, you can talk to us about it."

"I know."

Sirius' eyes searched Harry's, intent and deep.

Abruptly, he nodded and spoke again.

"Dumbledore sent us a message. He'll be coming in a few hours, said we're to just sit tight till then. If you want-"

Harry opened his mouth, not exactly sure what he was about to say until the words tripped out.

"Will you practice duelling with me? While we wait?"

Sirius grinned.


Rufus ran his hands through his head, feeling wearier than he had thought possible.

His thoughts kept circling back to the bottle of Ogden's in his desk drawer. It belonged to Fudge, as did most of the geegaws littering the comfortable office, but he didn't think anyone could blame him for taking the edge off of things a bit.

Merlin, what a mess.

He'd never wanted the Ministerial position. He'd have been more than happy to just remain head of the Auror department, to do his part from there to make England a better place.

Nevertheless, it was far better for him to be Minister than Fudge, or for Dumbledore to simply take over.

By God, if he had to do this job, he'd at least make sure that it was done to the best of his abilities.

If only Dumbledore wouldn't be going out of his way to make it as bloody difficult for Rufus as possible.

As soon as word got out of what Dumbledore had done to the Malfoys, the Wizengamot would be up in arms.

Too many of them were friends with the Malfoys, too many of them believed, on some level, in Voldemort's ideology.

They'd be furious and demanding, at the very least, Dumbledore's arrest.

Rufus wasn't sure if they would be wrong to do so.

They couldn't just sit back and allow Dumbledore to do whatever they wanted. Merlin, what was the point of having a government in the first place if they simply bent to the whims of anyone powerful enough?

The whole purpose of the Ministry was for there to be law and order, for there to be a force of stability and civilization in Britain.

If they just ignored it whenever Dumbledore broke the law, what message did that send? That the law only applied to certain individuals?

How different was that to what Voldemort wanted?

Obviously, Dumbledore's intentions were far better than Voldemort's were. Dumbledore, Rufus believed, truly did want to improve life for all. If Dumbledore was given free rein, it would probably lead to a vast betterment of the state of life in Britain.

But if the Ministry didn't apply its laws equally, what the hell was the point of its existence?

"Going around in circles," Rufus muttered, "and I'm getting nowhere. What can I do?"

He wouldn't be able to ignore the Wizengamot, that was for sure. If he tried, they'd just unseat him and name someone else Minister. Whoever it would be, Rufus was quite sure they wouldn't care for Britain in the same way as he did.

He wouldn't be able to ignore them, but maybe, if he was careful and smart enough, he'd be able to prevent them being too stupid.

Dumbledore, Rufus thought, wouldn't bother with attacking the Ministry unless he was provoked.

His main fight was with Voldemort, as indeed the Ministry's should have been as well.

Once Voldemort was dealt with, it would be far easier to work things out with Dumbledore. If Rufus could just show Dumbledore that his intervention wasn't needed in the government, the old wizard would back off.

And if he didn't, then at least the Ministry wouldn't have to worry about fighting him and Voldemort at the same time.

"But if Dumbledore keeps pulling this type of shit, I won't be able to just ignore him."

Rufus shook his head, an ache beginning to form behind his temples.

He wouldn't be able to just ignore Dumbledore, but he might be able to focus the Wizengamot on Voldemort. Moody, Rufus knew, might prove a problem. An excellent Auror though he had been, Moody simply had no head for politics, no ability to put aside his ideals. Especially not with Grindelwald involved.

While Moody might be a problem, Voldemort's pals certainly would be. All those old-fashioned purebloods, the ones who were too cowardly to actually join the Death Eaters but would happily laugh about their actions while giving whatever financial support they could.

They had power and money and enough savvy to understand that Dumbledore was threatening their entire way of life.

The only question was whether they would support the Ministry or Voldemort.

"If I don't react to the Malfoy's murders," he muttered, "they'll go to You Know Who. But if they think that the Ministry cares about them, they might not throw their weight behind him."

If Grindelwald wasn't in the picture, it wouldn't be quite so difficult. Unfortunately, he was very much a part of events.

Somehow, Rufus needed to figure out a way to placate the traditionalist purebloods and call Dumbledore to task, all without pushing too hard against the man and while fighting Voldemort.

"I need someone I can talk this out with. Someone who isn't a part of Dumbledore's Order and who isn't one of those old school wankers. Someone who knows how to wrangle politicians."

Up until then, Robards had been the only one Rufus had been confiding in. Rufus trusted him, and Gareth had a good head on his shoulders, but the man was no politician.

Rufus hadn't wanted to be one, either. Still, no-one could spend ten years as head of the Auror Department without learning how the system worked, and how to manipulate it to their advantage.

An idea occurred to him, a name popping into the forefront of his mind.

He thought about it for a bit, absently drumming his fingers on his desk as he did so.

He'd worked with her a lot, over the years. He'd never really liked her, but her heart was definitely in the right place.

He didn't have to like her. All that mattered was that he could trust her.

Sighing, the firewhisky calling to him with its promise of sweet oblivion and release from responsibility, Rufus summoned a piece of memo paper and began to quill a letter to Amelia.


'So,' Gellert thought, 'This is the famous prophesied child.'

A wry grin pulled at his lips as he gazed upon the boy. He fancied that he could almost see the swirls of fate spinning around his head, the faint aura that promised great importance.

He wouldn't bother arguing with Albus about the Prophecy. Albus was not a Seer, he could not understand as Gellert did. Besides, his old friend could be absurdly stubborn once he'd made up his mind.

The boy was nodding, biting at his lip and looking serious as Albus explained what had happened to his relatives. He didn't look too beaten up by the news.

'Perhaps he has some strength of character. Hopefully he has more of that than he does the ability to duel.'

He and Albus had arrived in time to catch the tail end of the boy facing off with one of the men who were present.

'Black, that's his name. The boy's godfather, Albus said.'

The duel was not entirely disappointing; if Gellert were to judge, he would assume the boy was more talented than the average youth of his age. Oh, he was certainly passable, but he was simply not what Gellert would imagine fate to have chosen to combat this Voldemort. He was certainly not, as many seemed to believe him, worthy of being Albus' apprentice.

Perhaps, with enough time and effort, the boy would prove to have hidden talents; perhaps he had some secret brilliance which would shine through.

A shame, therefore, that the boy would be denied the opportunity. If Albus proved unable to do the deed himself, if his compassion and kindness prevented him from doing what needed to be done…

Well, if that was the case, then Gellert would destroy Voldemort's accidental Horcrux himself.

Did the boy know? Did he even have an inkling of what he was?

Surely he must, regardless of what Albus said. Surely he at least suspected that his connection to Voldemort's mind and his ability to speak the serpent's tongue spoke of something more than just a mysterious magical connection.

Albus was still talking, going on about the information his pet Death Eater had given him.

Gellert wanted to laugh. For a spy, the man knew far less than he should have. Oh, he had confirmed that Voldemort was turning all of his captives into Inferi, but he claimed no knowledge of where and when they would strike.

Gellert hoped it would be soon. He itched to test his skills against this Voldemort, to see if he could succeed in stealing the man's dead army from his control.

It would not stop there. He would fight this pretender dark lord with everything he had, he would show why people still trembled at the sound of his name.

Nurmengard may have stolen decades of practice, but it had not taken his knowledge.

As a gust of wind blew the curtains open, a bird flew past the window. It was a sparrow, if Gellert were to guess. It swept down, the sunlight shimmering off of the crimson patches on its wings.

Gellert's breath caught in his throat, the sheer beauty of it blinding him.

His decades of imprisonment had robbed him of this; he had forgotten, almost, the sheer wonder the world possessed. Locked away in his tower prison, he had drifted into a colourless world where he could no longer marvel at the sights of nature.

But now he was free. Free, and once again marching to war alongside the man he had loved more than any other.

The gust of wind ended, the curtains settling back into place and blocking the window from sight.

Gellert returned to his vigil, his attention focusing back on the boy's scar.

The boy kept darting his eyes toward Gellert, clearly noticing his constant gaze.

At least he was attentive.

Black was currently watching Gellert, with the other man by his side mimicking him. They both seemed slightly wary.

Frankly, it was good to know that they feared him. Allies though they might be, but Gellert had long known fear to be a more honest emotion than admiration.

He ignored them, continuing to stare at the boy, only pausing to occasionally gaze upon Albus.

His friend was pulling the kindly grandfather act again, emotionally connecting with the boy and somehow simultaneously giving him terrible news and reassuring him.

In truth, it was not an act. As much as Albus was a powerful, deadly warrior, he was also a gentle, kind-hearted man.

He was both, and so much more. A conundrum, a mystifying, bedazzling creature who belonged in legend, whose name, like Gellert's, deserved to be emblazoned across the earth. Unlike what had been the case for Gellert until now, Albus would not live forever in notoriety and infamy. No, once he would acknowledgewho and what he truly was, he would finally do what Gellert had dreamed of all those decades before.

He would transform the world into a paradise, and Gellert would be by his side.

Once, Gellert had hoped for Albus to be by his side. Ah, but that was many years ago, before Nurmengard and its endless loneliness had stolen so much from him.

Now, he would be content to play second fiddle to Albus, to take the role of the right-hand wizard.

They would destroy this upstart dark lord, and then...and then Albus would see the truth, would realize that his moral compunctions were nothing beside the corruption and evil that would claim lesser men.

They would destroy this Voldemort, and would then take control of Britain, claiming the right to rule that men such as them deserved.

And after that…

"Alastor will," Albus continued, "unless I am very much mistaken, no longer be fighting alongside us. Unfortunately, I do not believe he will simply ally with the Ministry and battle Voldemort under their auspices."

Black and his companion, the werewolf, exchanged glances. The boy, meanwhile, continued to watch Albus.

"You think he'll push them to fight you?"

Albus bowed his head, his piercing eyes closing momentarily.

"Much as Salazar Slytherin was unable to look past his fear and hatred of muggles, even for the good of Hogwarts, Alastor is unable to forget what happened to his father. Although, I doubt he would appreciate my comparison."

The men both looked at Gellert at that, the werewolf immediately staring back into his mug.

Black, however, met Gellert's eyes.

'Yes. This is a man who will follow us. Imprisoned unjustly, Albus said. Oh, how he must burn for vengeance. Raw, unshaped vengeance, directed at the society which so wronged him. Wonderful. But, if Albus is correct regarding how much he cares for the boy…'

"What will you do about him?" The boy asked.

"I will try to reason with him. And when that fails, I will do everything in my power not to hurt him if he does not force me to do so."

The werewolf swallowed, not raising his eyes to meet Albus. Black, on the other hand, nodded grimly.

"And what of you, Sirius? And you, Remus? Can I trust you? Will you stand with me? Will you help me, not merely to vanquish Voldemort, but to heal the society which birthed him?"

For a moment, neither of them answered him, although, Gellert was pleased to see, neither of them flinched at that foolish name.

"I don't want needless bloodshed, Albus," the werewolf finally said. "But I know that you don't either. You can count on me. God help me, you can count on me."

Gellert almost let a sneer form on his lips.

In war, there was no such thing as needless bloodshed. Even if a death accomplished nothing but to strike fear into one's enemies' hearts, it was not needless.

"And you know that I'd do anything to keep Harry safe," Black said smoothly, giving Albus a cocky grin and tapping the boy in question on the back of the head. "Not to mention, I'm happy to help tear down the shitty system my family helped create. I'm in, Albus. As if it was even a question."

'Ah. How that must stab Albus. He will see what he needs to do as a betrayal of this man. Perhaps I should prepare for him to be removed along with the boy.'

"My dear friends," Albus. "Your loyalty astounds me. Thank you. The world will thank you too, one day. For now, we must begin to plan. I believe that Voldemort-"

Of course, it had to happen right then. A silvery, shapeless ball of mist shot through the wall as if it wasn't there, forming into a glistening doe Patronus.

"He is starting an attack in several minutes," the doe said, speaking in the voice of Albus' pet Death Eater. "A Muggle village, one where several wizarding families live as well. Somewhere in Devon. I will inform you once I know more."

The Patronus hovered in place for a moment before dissipating.

Gellert's heart began to race, his fingers tightening around his wand.

'No leaving me behind this time. Oh yes, it all begins again now. Those… Malfoys, they were just a warm-up. This is it.'

He felt a smile appear on his face, his teeth poking through the crack in his lips.

And in Albus' eyes, he could see his own bloodlust smiling back at him.