The Green in the Grey

by TheBlack'sResurgence

A prophecy left unfulfilled, a family torn apart by repercussions of war and one child left to a life of neglect. But there were those not content to allow this to pass. Harry Potter may have been abandoned at the end of the war but he will rise to be more than any could have imagined. Minimal bashing, rated M for violence etc. Harry/Tonks, James/Lily Main plot begins GOF

22. Fall

Only the epilogue remaining…

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Please do also read the extended A/N at the bottom.

TBR

Chapter 22: Fall

Harry eyed the arranged pieces before him, contemplating his next move. He would never consider himself an adept player of chess, but he had played his fair share of games. Though seldom the victor, he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

The violet eyes of his opponent watched him intently, a smirk pulling at her lips. Like a shark smelling blood, she was ready to go in for the kill. Her smirk faded into a frown as a rook blocked her queen, leaving her with no other moves to be made.

"I'm getting tired of losing to you," she sighed.

She shivered as the grey orbs of her captor bored into her own. Never in her life had she felt so unnerved by another that was not the man she had pledged to serve. The new Lord Black was cut from the same cloth as her master. He was charismatic, gifted and oh so very dangerous. It had taken only a moment in the same room as the young man to feel it. It had terrified her and excited her equally. Here, she had no power of her own, magically or politically. She was at the mercy of the Lord of her first family.

Their first encounter had been an overwhelming one, stirring memories that had only ever existed in her mind during her incarceration, yet, when she first laid eyes on him, they felt so very real.

Flashback

Bellatrix was restless. She was grateful that she was no longer held on the cursed island under the effects of the cursed creatures, but she was not where she wanted to be. She was no fool. It was her master that had come for her the night she was taken from Azkaban by the unknown boy who had claimed to have ties to her family. His words had proven to be truthful. When she had awoken here, it was the image of her Aunt Cassiopeia that had greeted her, her visage more aged and worn than the last time she had seen the woman.

Truth be told, she had little to complain about. She was aware of the treatment bestowed upon those that found themselves captives of the Blacks. Many would argue that Azkaban was a kinder fate, less cruel and bearable. Fortunately, Bellatrix shared their blood and had been treated well, her aunt even taking the trouble to fix her rotten teeth so that she could eat without discomfort and her hair so that it was tameable once more. She was also given real food, something she had been deprived of since her imprisonment at the end of the war. She was not where she wished to be, but she was much better off than she had been.

Her aunt visited a few times a day to check on her and bring her the fare she was allowed. The conversations between the two were short and awkward at best, neither feeling that there was much to say. Cassiopeia saw her as a threat, a traitor to the family and Bellatrix felt nothing for the woman. There was only one that held her loyalty. Even her grandfather who had visited her only on one occasion had little to say, only to echo the thoughts of her aunt and vocalise his disappointment in her choices. She too had been disappointed. Arcturus Black had once stood proudly, his sharp eyes and wit stilling any that fell under his gaze. Now, he was nothing but an old man who was likely not long for this world.

The Blacks had fallen from grace during the prior decades and it seemed that had hit rock bottom. They remained but a shadow of the family they once were; wealthy, but their reputation in tatters.

She shook her head. She had been proud of her name, of the blood that flowed through her veins. Seeing how far her family had fallen had filled her with shame during her younger years. That was until she had met the Dark Lord and had been promised the name Black would once again be remembered, their sullied reputation restored to its former glory.

He had changed her life, this handsome and charismatic man. He had listened to her, appreciated her abilities and had, on many occasions, named her his most treasured follower. He had done more for her than those that dared call themselves her family.

What had they done?

They had arranged a marriage for her that was supposed to be pleasing. Rudolphus had once been a handsome man, but a halfwit and someone far below what she deserved. Her grandfather had stood by and allowed it and Andi had the gall to run off with a mudblood, tarnishing her fraying perception of those that had raised her further.

Thankfully, her Lord had come along soon after, and the rest was history.

The smile pulling at her lips faded into a frown as she heard footsteps descending the stairs outside her door. They were lighter than her aunts, slow, laboured ones. These were those of a person much younger, still nimble with youth.

She stood as the door opened and admitted a young man with an air of familiarity about him. It wasn't the look of the Blacks that caught her attention, though he had that in abundance, it was his presence, the somewhat stifling feel of his magic. It was almost intoxicating, pulling the breath from his lungs the closer he approached.

She glanced up and met the shimmering grey of his pools and shuddered slightly. She had been right in her assumption, he was young, barely standing before her a man. He was tall, but not overly so, his build lithe and the features of the Blacks prominent, though there was more to him. However, it was not his look that had enraptured her, it was all the things that could not be seen, the familiarity she had first felt. There was something of her master about him, the confidence in which he carried himself and even his demeanour. It was unnerving to say the least. That coupled with the suffocating magic he exuded, that of her family, that of her master and others she knew not, she could barely draw breath to greet him. She needn't have worried, it was he that broke the silence. Scrutinising her under his glare, she could have sworn his eyes flashed as green as one of her favourite spells. That green stilled her, her own violet orbs widening as she realised the boy that had plagued her during her incarceration was standing before her.

"Bellatrix," he greeted her.

She could only nod, her words dying on her tongue. In her less lucid moments, he had come to her, rescued her from her eventual fate, had been her saviour. She shook her head once more, reminding herself that what she had seen was but a figment of her addled mind. Even if the man was real, he had never come for her.

"And who might you be," she mocked. "Some bastard half-breed that has managed to worm your way into the house of Black?"

The man had the audacity to smirk at her before he chuckled.

"I heard you were rather sharp with your tongue. Do keep hold of it or you may find it no longer in your possession," he warned.

Bellatrix raised a delicate brow in his direction but was unable to respond, her lips having been sealed by an unseen spell. She reached up only to find that her lips were no longer where they should be. Instead, she felt skin as smooth as the rest of her face. She panicked. She had seen no wand nor felt anything change. She breathed in short bursts through her nose until the effects of a calming charm washed over her. Her breathing slowed to a steady rhythm and she glared at the man who was unconcerned by the underlying threat she promised.

"You will remain civil or I will leave you like that permanently, understood?"

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes but nodded, deciding that she would ponder her revenge when she was in a much more advantageous position. He gestured for her to take a seat and did so himself without waiting for her to comply. With another scowl, she sat on a chair a short distance away.

"My name is Harry Black, the new lord of the family," he introduced himself.

"Is my grandfather dead?" she questioned uncaringly.

Harry shook his head.

"Retired. He passed the headship down to me."

Bellatrix nodded. The man hadn't appeared well enough to lead the family from what she had seen. The Lord Black needed to be strong, unbreakable. Thus far, this Harry seem to be both.

"And just how is it that you became his heir?"

"I proved my worth," Harry responded. "I carry the blood of the Blacks and was raised Black. Truth be told, there was no other choice. Sirius was cast out and there was no other suitable heir."

"Cissy has a son," Bellatrix pointed out.

Harry snorted.

"A clone of his idiot father. This family would become nothing more than a new bank account for that scumbag. Well, he would need the funds. The wealth of the Malfoys is no more."

Bellatrix quirked her head questioningly.

"Lucius made stupid choices trying to climb above his station. It has not ended well for him," Harry offered with a dismissive shrug.

Bellatrix didn't fight the grin tugging at her lips. She had always despised Lucius. He had always been a pompous fool with only his galleons being anything of worth about the man.

"I suppose you have come to tell me of my fate?"

Harry shook his head.

"I've not truly decided what to do with you, yet. That depends on how helpful you prove to be."

"I will not turn traitor on my master," Bellatrix hissed.

Again, she was met with a shrug.

"I know your master better than any. I know all I need to know to put an end to him."

There was a moment of silence before Bellatrix broke down in peels of laughter. She had come across many that fancied themselves the hero that wold kill the Dark Lord, from all walks of life. Experts in every field had been tasked with such and they all had one thing in common. They had all fallen victim to the power her master wielded. Her laughter died as the boy before her remained stoic, his only giveaway to what he was feeling being another brief flash of emerald flaring in his orbs.

"You know nothing," she returned, a stab of jealousy making itself known.

No one knew her master, not the way she did. He had shared his hopes and dreams with her, had spent hours tutoring her in magic so that she would be only second to him with a wand in hand. They had conversed in depth during her formative years, both opening up about the lives they had led, the adversity they had overcome along with their respective successes and failures. He had done no such thing with any other.

"So, you willingly followed a half-blood?" Harry probed.

Bellatrix shot to her foot, her eyes bulging in fury.

"How dare you?" she spat. "The Dark Lord is the Heir of Slytherin, a greater family than our own."

Harry chuckled.

"A family that fell out of favour almost a millennium ago. Salazar helped find a school," he shrugged. "The family has done nothing of note since. They bred amongst themselves and practically became squibs. Tom is an exception. His mother was a Gaunt and his father a muggle."

"LIES," Bellatrix screeched as she launched herself at the boy.

She was frozen in place with a flick of his wand, his rebuttal calm, as though one of the most dangerous witches alive had not just attempted to attack him with her bare hands.

"His name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, son of Merope Gaunt and a muggle boy she absconded with. She died giving birth to him and he was raised in an orphanage. What do I have to gain from lying?"

Bellatrix panted heavily, her efforts trying to break free from his hold leaving her still recovering body exhausted. After a few moments, she calmed herself. This boy was lying, trying to manipulate her into helping him. She would not play into his hands.

"You will never beat him," she whispered breathily. "His magic is beyond any other. You cannot beat what you don't understand, Lord Black."

The boy grinned at her as he stood, his nose only an inch from her own.

"I have already bettered him. Twice he has fled from me like the coward he is. It is only a matter of time before he can no longer flee."

A shiver worked its way down her spine at the cold certainty in his voice, but she dismissed the words, reminding herself he was trying to get into her head. What he said could only be false. Even she had never come close to defeating the man in a duel.

"Lies," she returned once more.

"Why don't you see for yourself," he offered.

Her eyes were drawn to his as though she no longer had control of them. His magic washed over her and she immediately felt his presence in her mind, unsettling her. She could only watch as a series of memories played. When they ceased, she almost keeled over as his magic receded, her own having been dominated by the overwhelming force. She managed to remain on her feet, though her legs trembled as she digested what she had seen.

Had the memories been false, she would have known. Her skill in the mind arts had once been exceptional and was still beyond the average practitioner. She, however, felt no falsehood in what she had witnessed.

"You took him by surprise," she dismissed.

"Perhaps," Harry conceded, "but it was he that fled. Such a powerful Dark Lord that he runs from a teenager."

Bellatrix positively cackled.

"You truly believe he fears you? I have witnessed him take down much more powerful wizards than you could hope to ever be."

Her breath caught in her throat as she pulled upwards from her chair, the squeezing of her neck intensifying as she dangled helplessly a foot or so from the ground. She tried to fight off whatever force had gripped her so, choking as she struggled to draw breath, all the while the eerie emerald eyes stared into her own. What did surprise her, was the lack of wand in his hands and her final thoughts before she lost consciousness was that she had undoubtedly underestimated the new lord of her first family.

She came to shortly after in a crumpled heap on the floor, coughing uncontrollably as Harry watched, once more seated in his chair.

"You have a few tricks," she conceded hoarsely, pulling herself to her feet, "but my lord has more. The magic of the Blacks cannot compete with the magic of Slytherin."

The boy raised a brow in her direction and began hissing the same way the Dark Lord did when he was conversing with his familiar or particularly furious. She again found herself surprised as a black snake emerged from within his sleeve and began hissing in response.

"H-how?" she asked, dumbfounded by the latest development. The boy was proving to be more and more than she would ever have believed.

"Let's just say that Tom has sealed his own fate. Believe it or not, I didn't want any of this. I gave him the chance to walk away and he chose to act against me. For that, he will die the most painful death I can manage."

With his declaration ringing in her ears, he stood.

"You will be held here until Tom is dealt with. After that, who knows. I will not release you only for such a foolish act to work against me. You may as well accept it, because nothing will sway my mind. If you attempt to escape this room, you will die. The wards have been altered to be very unforgiving to any that carry his mark. Do I make myself clear?"

Bellatrix could only nod, displeased but not despondent. There would always be a way to escape. The boy would lapse somewhere, and she would take full advantage of it when the time was right.

"Good. Now is there anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable? You are still a Black after all, and it is my duty to ensure you are well kept."

"Will you come back?" she blurted. "I'd like someone to play chess with."

She couldn't be sure as to why she made the request. Perhaps she was curious or perhaps she was starved of company from her stint in Azkaban, but she found something about him enrapturing. He was an enigma, a conundrum, and she found herself wanting to solve him.

He merely nodded before leaving and Bellatrix did not expect to see him again. She, however, was proven wrong. As promised with the simple gesture, he had returned and on several occasions.

End Flashback

Strangely, the two had begun to cultivate a relationship of sorts. She couldn't be sure if they had grown to respect one another, if it was a familial bond or even a friendship, but things had developed and she found herself enjoying his company, despite him almost killing her during their first encounter.

They would whittle hours away playing chess, discussing magic or sharing a simple conversation. It was strange for the woman. The boy was determined to end her lord, but she enjoyed his company, nonetheless. She tried to dismiss her feelings, attributing them to little more than an escape from the monotony of her days, but it was more, and she steadily became aware of it.

Over the past three months, she had learned much about him, about the brilliance of his mind and the power he possessed. As much as she tried to deny it, there were many familiarities the boy shared with the Dark Lord, but there was more to him. Occasionally, she would see glimpses of humility, of the pain and sadness he had endured. She needed not to hear of his woes to see such. Truly, the minor differences between them is what made them stand apart.

They were both ruthless, stood above the average wizard in terms of ability and had overcome much adversity. Her master had chosen to turn against the world, to forge a path that would lead him to greatness at the expense of others.

Harry, though as dangerous, had chosen his family, to protect those he held in his heart and those that could not do what he could. He was a lord she would have been proud to call her own had things been different when she was younger.

She, however, had made her choices and she had no regrets. Her grandfather had not been as Harry is, had not been able to pull the seams together of the fraying ends that was her family. Between herself and the other Blacks, the fabric had been torn and what remained had been but tatters.

Over the days and weeks she had spent at Grimmauld Place, she learnt that there was no safer place for her to be. Were she to return to the service of the Dark Lord, Harry would prove to be true to his word and kill her or it was likely she would be returned to Azkaban. There was also the problem of the boy sat opposite her. In a very strange way, she had grown to care for him.

She worried for him when he ventured away from the house and could not relax until she knew he had returned safe. That was more than she could ever say about her fellow Death Eaters, and though she cared for the teen, the confliction she felt about the boy and her master, tore her apart.

Being where she was meant that she did not have to choose a side, that could remain somewhat ignorant to her internal struggle. She knew that if she were to be liberated, the choice she would have to make would be difficult. Being here meant such a choice was not necessary.

She was pulled from her thoughts by a hand waving in front of her face.

"Are you alright, Bella?" Harry questioned.

The woman nodded and offered a him a rare smile.

"I'm fine," she replied dismissively.

"Would you like another game?"

She shook her head.

"Losing to you does no good for my ego," she sighed.

Harry chuckled as he packed the board away with a flick of his wand.

"You've come close to beating me a few times."

Bellatrix snorted.

"I was never very good at chess. I prefer a battle of wands rather than minds."

"Do you think you could beat me?"

Bellatrix frowned as she considered her answer. He was gifted, that she couldn't deny, but she had much more experience.

"I don't know all of what you are capable of," she returned, the frown still firmly in place.

Harry grinned as he stood and stretched.

"Perhaps one day, when this is all over, we will find out. There must be a good reason that you are the most feared witch in the country."

The moniker would have once filled her with pride. Now, it barely stoked the embers of what remained of the fire inside her. She was tired, maybe a little wiser in her slowly advancing years. Regardless, the title did little for her.

"Perhaps," she returned. "That's if you don't cart me off back to Azkaban."

"I suppose only time will tell," he offered ominously, before taking his leave.

Bellatrix released a deep breath through her nose, the uncertainty of her future playing on her mind. Whatever her fate would be, depended solely on the boy that had just left. Were he to fail in his endeavour to put an end to the Dark Lord, the uncertainty would only increase.

She knew not what Sirius or Cassie would do if it were left to them to decide. The former would likely kill her and the latter, she couldn't be certain. All she knew was that her life would never be what it once was, even if the Dark Lord somehow managed to liberate her.

Things had changed for her. She had been enthralled by the man, his power and his charm. Now, she had experienced another just as powerful but different in his ways. She no longer knew exactly what it was she wanted, and again, the conflict within made itself known.

Doing all she could to occupy her mind elsewhere, she readied herself for bed, hoping that she would not be put in a position where she would have to choose between the two.

(BREAK)

The atmosphere of the previous year within the castle was all but absent, having been replaced with one of tension and uncertainty. Sirius had a keen sense of tension, having grown under the roof of his mother. Hogwarts was rife with it and had he not developed such a keen sense; it would still have been unmissable.

Students were oft seen amongst only their own peers, avoiding socialising with any other than those they were familiar. The castle had divided itself, predominantly into the houses they had been selected for upon arrival in their first year. It was commonplace to see pockets of the red and gold of Gryffindor, the silver and green of Slytherin, the blue and bronze of Ravenclaw and yellow of Hufflepuff, congregating amongst themselves. It was a sight reminiscent of Voldemort's first rise to power and it only served to unsettle the animagus.

With that aside, there was little else to redeem the school. His classes were progressing slowly, the calibre of previous professors shining through in the ineptitude of the students. Had they not been under the tutelage of Moody the previous year, he shuddered to think how much worse they could be. The students could not be blamed of course, it was them that had been let down in their education by those responsible for providing quality instructors. This simply had not been done for many years. Another failing of Dumbledore undoubtedly. If it weren't for the secondary reason he had taken the job, he would have written the whole thing off as a bad idea. Very few of the students would get the OWL or NEWT results needed even with the rigorous instruction he had them under. There just wasn't enough time to close such a gap.

No, although he would continue working with them as best he could, it was keeping an eye on Dumbledore that kept him here, or so he had initially thought.

The man disappeared for days at a time without Sirius any the wiser as to what he was doing. He suspected that it was work for the order or at least something towards putting an end to Voldemort. He would return to the castle exhausted from whatever efforts he had made, speaking to none as to his whereabouts. Sirius had accepted he would likely learn little of the man's movements. He was as secretive and elusive as he had always been.

What had caught his attention however, and had been his new focus, was one, Draco Malfoy. He didn't know the boy personally, but he could only imagine that the offspring of his cousin and Lucius would have been rotten. Thus far, he had proven it on several occasions.

Already, there had been a few unpleasant incidences, another student cursed here or there, and rather dangerous spell work being used in his own lessons. The spells had certainly been passed on by the boys' father and it left the wayward Black concerned for the safety of his charges.

To his own irritation, Dumbledore had been rather blasé towards Malfoy's conduct, dismissing the incidences out of hand. For the life of him, Sirius could not comprehend what the headmaster was thinking. Draco should have been expelled and should certainly not be free to roam around the castle unchecked. Something was happening with the Slytherin. Sirius could feel it, but any concern raised was falling on deaf ears.

Because of this, he vowed to keep a closer eye on him. At first, it had been difficult to do so. Draco was tetchy, on edge, as though he knew he was being watched. The paranoid behaviour only made Sirius more determined to find out what he was up to. He didn't think he had been marked, but he was not willing to risk Voldemort's unpredictability. Draco was up to something and it was unclear when he would strike next and who against.

His worries had brought him once more to Dumbledore's office. Again, the man had returned shortly from one of his recent excursions and Sirius was determined that the man would hear about and act upon his concerns. If he did not, he would take it upon himself to do so.

After several minutes of waiting by the gargoyle, it sprung aside to admit him. Traversing the stairs, he entered through the open door to be greeted by the sight of a very tired headmaster and an agitated Snape.

"How is it I may help you, Sirius?" the older man questioned, the usual twinkle in his eyes dimmer than usual.

"We really need to discuss the Malfoy boy," Sirius replied without preamble.

The man visibly sunk in his chair as the potions master narrowed his eyes suspiciously in his direction.

"You may not want to admit it, but he is up to something. Twice in only a few days I have found him out of his common room during the early hours. He had no reasonable explanation as to why. He's up to something, Albus."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Mr Malfoy is just the person Severus and I were discussing. He too shares your concerns."

"If even Black can see it, surely you can no longer ignore the problem," Snape drawled, his lip curling into a sneer.

Sirius ignored the barb, pleased to have an ally after the past few months, even if it was in the form of the greasy man whom he had despised since the two had met so many years ago.

"What would you have me do? Without evidence, I cannot act. Unless you can implicate Draco without any doubt in a nefarious incident, little can be done. The boy does not deserve to suffer because of the actions of his father."

"He is the bloody same as his father," Sirius growled. "He is unpleasant, a bigot and you know as well as I do that he is responsible for many of the things happening here."

Dumbledore sighed as he shook his head.

"Be that as it may, it does not warrant expulsion."

Before Sirius could reply, he was cut off by the arrival of a cat patronus, speaking in the voice of his former head of house.

"Albus, something has happened. Miss Bell seems to have come into contact with a cursed necklace. She is in the hospital wing with Poppy and we are awaiting the arrival of a team from St Mungo's."

With much more energy than he appeared currently capable of, the headmaster shot to his feet and headed for the door.

"Come, both of you. I may need your assistance," he commanded, his stride not breaking as he headed towards his student in need.

Sirius followed with Snape in his wake, his mind contemplating what he had just heard. Miss Bell could only be one person and he could not help but think she had been targeted intentionally. There was only one person that would have motive to do such a thing, and judging by the pale visage of Severus Snape, he too had reached the same conclusion.

Hesitating for only a moment, he fired off a patronus of his own. For what good it would do, he did not know, but Leo would never forgive him if he did not tell him.

The duo arrived shortly after Dumbledore who had immediately began trying to discern just what had happened to the girl. She had been placed on a bed, was pale and unmoving, the only sign of life being the gentle rising and falling of her chest as she breathed shallowly.

"Severus," Dumbledore called. "The necklace."

Snape's only response was a nod as he set to work on a rather elaborate construct that had been placed upon a pillow. It seemed innocuous enough other than the grandeur of the piece. Sirius was no expert in jewellery, but even to the untrained eye, it was very high end and not something that could be purchased by those of average wealth.

"What happened?" he asked McGonagall who watched on helplessly as Dumbledore and Snape attempted to save the girl's life.

"She visited the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and emerged with the necklace wrapped in silk. Miss Johnson could get no sense from her and a scuffle ensued when she attempted to take it from her. She was wearing gloves but there was a hole in one and her skin must have brushed against it," the woman answered mechanically. "She apparently was not acting herself."

Sirius frowned as he pondered the information. None of his earlier assumptions made sense. If Katie had been the target, surely whomever gave her the necklace would have done so without the need of subterfuge. It could have simply been placed on her person at any time. Why all the effort if she was the intended?

"Was anything else said?" he pressed.

"Only that she was determined to deliver it to someone in the castle. She did not specify whom."

Sirius' frown deepened. There was much more to this. It appeared that Katie had either been in the wrong place at the wrong time or the necklace would kill both her and whomever she had been instructed to gift it to. Failing that, she would have been implicated in the attack at the very least and caused an inordinate amount of issues for the girl.

For the moment, it mattered not, and he switched his focus towards Snape who had evidently finished his work. Without addressing any other, he removed several vials from within his robes and administered them to Katie before drawing his wand and muttering under his breath inaudibly. This continued for several moments until he stopped suddenly and stumbled backwards into the arms of the headmaster.

If it was possible, the man had paled even more than his usual milky complexion and his already greasy hair was glistening with sweat from his efforts.

"She was fortunate," he declared breathlessly. "She made only minimal contact with the curse. Had it been anymore, it would have killed her before any could have helped."

"Will she be okay?" McGonagall asked worriedly.

"She will live," Snape returned ominously. "Until she wakes, there is no telling what lasting damage there will be."

"Thank you, Severus. Perhaps you should rest yourself."

Snape nodded before taking his leave, his legs unsteady under his own weight.

"Minerva, inform Alastor of what has happened here. The aurors will need to investigate this."

McGonagall pursed her lips as she too exited the hospital wing.

"Do you see it now, Albus?" Sirius questioned irritably.

The man bowed in acknowledgement, the guilt he felt evident.

"Indeed. This turn of events changes things. I can assure you, Sirius, should any evidence be found implicating any within this castle, they will be dealt with most harshly."

Sirius doubted the man. Not once had Sirius witnessed anything resembling harshness from Dumbledore. He had always proven to be forgiving and he could not believe this would be any different. No, it would be down to the Blacks to get to the bottom of this, if only to ensure Leo did not do something reckless in the pursuit of vengeance.

Sirius knew the boy would not let this stand. He would move the heavens themselves if they were preventing him getting to those responsible. Sirius wouldn't blame him, but another stint in a wizarding prison was the last thing the boy needed.

(BREAK)

For what could only have been days, he clung to her left hand, the right now marred with a blackened smudge of skin where the curse still resided. According to the mediwizard caring for her, it was no longer active, but the mark would likely remain.

Katie had been transferred to St Mungo's to recover, the Hospital Wing in the school unable to meet her needs any further than they had. He was grateful for the assistance of the potions master in saving her life, and that, he had done. All who had examined the girl had agreed that the quick work of Severus Snape had given her a fighting chance. Yet, she remained unmoving, her skin pallid as she slumbered.

Leo yawned as he rubbed at the scruff that had formed on his chin. Upon his arrival at the castle, he had been a mess. Seeing Katie in the state she was in had instilled a sense of fear and anger within him, the latter being pushed aside after hearing what had happened. Whomever was responsible would come to light soon enough, both Sirius and Harry had assured him of that. Whilst he bided his time, it was better spent where he was needed most. She would wake eventually and there was nowhere else he would be until that moment.

He was not alone in his vigil. Both Katie's parents refused to leave her side also. Though little was said between them, he could feel the accusing stares of the man attempting to immolate him. Was this his fault? He knew not. If it was indeed Malfoy responsible for what had happened, there would be nothing stopping him putting the man to rest for good.

For now, however, he could only wait. He was not a godly man, but he had silently prayed to every deity he knew of for her to wake, for her to be okay.

(BREAK)

The attack on Katie had become his new focus. Ever since the night in Diagon Alley, hide nor hair of Tom or the Death Eaters had been seen. Wizarding Britain had fallen into a lull of sorts, one that filled him with unease and left him restless. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the conflict resumed once more, that things were happening that he could not see. On his numerous checks of properties of known followers of the man, he had come up emptyhanded. They were still lying low and the uncertainty of what was to come plagued him at all hours.

The incident in Hogsmeade, though unwelcome, had given him a trail to follow, as minute as it was. He had no doubt that Tom had in someway orchestrated it, but to what end?

At first, he had believed Katie to be the intended target of a plan that had ultimately failed. Perhaps Lucius felt himself once more untouchable enough to take his chances against Leo, but a clear mind had put that theory to rest. As Leo did, he believed there was much more to it and that Katie had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Though he was certain in this, he refused to outright dismiss his first thoughts. There was always the possibility that she too had been a target along with whomever the package was destined for.

Only two people within the castle would be worth risking much for; his own father and Dumbledore, neither of whom would readily accept a mysterious package, even from one known to them.

The entire scheme reeked of amateurism, lack of thought and poor execution. If Lucius had overseen this, he had proven to be more foolish than first believed.

Harry shook his head.

Lucius was many things, a fool even, but even he was beyond such a poorly concocted effort. No, there was much more to this and Harry had taken it upon himself to investigate it further.

The aurors, though doing their utmost, were bound by regulations and such boundaries would serve only to inhibit their progress, the trail growing ever-colder the longer their own inquiries continued. That could not be allowed. To ensure that such a thing would not come to pass, he shouldered the responsibility of finding the guilty party.

The undertaking of this would have proven to be much more difficult had it not been for his father. Truly, Harry had not known where to even begin. Logically, Lucius would have been his first option, but the man had proven his elusiveness. It was Sirius that had informed him of the erratic behaviour the heir of the man had been displaying.

Had he had other suspects available, he likely would have dismissed the boy. He was undoubtedly a fool and equally repugnant as he that had sired him, but Harry doubted he was capable of even formulating a plot like this. However, without any other apparent, he decided to humour the adamant man, which had proven to be much more fruitful than he would have thought possible.

Sirius had explained his suspicions of the boy, his strange behaviours, his sickly appearance and nervous disposition. Taking the opportunity to put the cloak to use, the state of the boy was clear to see. No longer did he roam the castle as though he owned it. That typical Malfoy swagger was all but absent, replaced with what Harry could only describe as a lost boy.

He displayed little of the actions Sirius had described. It was seldom he could be seen away from his common room, seemingly only leaving to attend classes before returning there. It did not match the habits he had adopted up until the day of the attack and it made Harry suspect him all the more. Not once had Harry seen him during the small hours, nor did the boy do anything else to attract attention to himself other than send mail, a normal practice for students away from home. It was as though he was doing the opposite to what Sirius had observed, all seemingly in the effort of remaining undetected for a misdeed.

It, however, was not enough and Harry knew it. He could simply take the boy if he so wished but even he could not justify the kidnap of an heir to a family such as the Malfoys. Despite the misdeeds of his father, Draco could not be categorically proven to be guilty. It would do nothing but turn many against him and until Tom was dealt with, he needed the support of the Wizengamot.

He banged his fist on his desk in frustration. Being the lord of the family was proving to be as much a boon as it was a hindrance. Though the title opened many doors to him, many others were closed. He had to be calculated, cunning enough to not provoke others beyond what could be assuaged later if required. Leaning too heavily on Draco could tip the balance against him.

He frowned as one of the many wards he had placed around the country suddenly notified him of a disturbance. He had been waiting for three months for it to happen and had all but given up hope that any would be triggered.

Retrieving his cloak, he placed it over him before vanishing with a gentle pop, following the trail of his own magic. He arrived just outside of Hogsmeade and released a sigh of annoyance. He had only placed one such ward here and it was more likely than not, a student out of bounds had been caught in his trap within the Shrieking Shack.

Debating whether he should simply leave them to stew a while, he pushed open the door, his eyes widening in surprise as he spotted a familiar shade of platinum hair protruding from beneath a hood.

"Well, I didn't expect you to fall so easily within my reach, Lucius."

The man was struggling frantically against the magic that held him, his wand having been removed from his person upon falling into the trap. He froze at the sound of Harry's voice before the struggling began once more with renewed vigour, to no avail. After several moments, he slumped defeatedly, his head shaking.

"I suppose you have come to help your son out of the mess he has made. You certainly wouldn't be here unless it was absolutely necessary. Tell me, Lucius, who was the target?"

Malfoy merely narrowed his eyes in an act of defiance, his lips firmly sealed. He did not look at all well, his usually sleek hair dry and skin a soured milky colour. The bags under his narrowed eyes were prominent, the product of a lack of sleep and stress.

"Very well. I suppose I will have to loosen your tongue myself."

Harry raised the elder wand and aimed towards the fidgeting man. Over the past weeks, he had become very familiar with it, the results of his magic proving to be more than he had expected. Initially, they had been on par with his own wand, but the more he used it, the better it became. Although it continued to feel cold to the touch, it was a coldness he was becoming accustomed to.

"Crucio," he growled, the silencing charm in place doing its' job of ensuring none could hear the screams of Lucius Malfoy.

(BREAK)

The Dark Lord stared at his reflection in the mirror in the rooms that had been allocated to him within Malfoy Manor, the Lord's Chambers of course. Taking in his own scarlet gaze and hairless head, he released a deep breath through his nose. It was not the looks of his former body he missed, but the comfort, something he was lacking with the recent developments he had become aware of. Ever since the fateful night of his resurrection, he'd been plagued with a feeling of discomfort, something akin to wearing shoes on the wrong feet, a feeling not only in his extremities but in every fibre of his being.

At first, the Restorative Potions he had been given by Severus had assisted him greatly and he had been able to ignore it. This, however, was no longer the case. The feeling followed him now always and he could no longer pretend that it was not ailing him. Physically, he felt fine for the most part. The ritual had worked, and the body created was strong, just not his own. Something had gone awry that night, something that left him questioning his decisions and actions of the past. Had he pushed the boundaries of magic too far? He knew not. All he knew for certain was that he didn't feel entirely like himself, he felt as though a part of him was missing.

He shuddered as he corrected himself. He felt as though several parts of him were missing.

He couldn't be certain, but he believed his wand was aware of it too. Oh, it worked for him just as well as it always had, but it was as though there was the briefest of hesitation when he was performing magic, as though the wand needed time to recognise the master that held it.

This was the reason he had sought out Ollivander in the first place. There were few others that were held in such esteem when it came to wandlore and it was he that had crafted his own. If his wand was malfunctioning, it would be he that held the answers. Lord Voldemort had his suspicions of what the issue could be, but he wanted to eliminate any other possibility before confronting that issue. Such thoughts took him back to a few days after the wandmaker had been retrieved and the conversation that had been shared between them.

FLASHBACK

The Dark Lord was still in a rage at how many men his foray into Diagon Alley had cost him. Usually, such a thing would bother him little but, his position was precarious. Since Potter had been elected Minister and all but nullified his network of spies, recruiters and key people in positions to assist the movement, those joining him had all but come to a standstill. He'd wanted nothing more than to kill the man as he laid eyes upon him amongst the aurors and even more so his son and the fool Dumbledore as they had arrived. He would not have hesitated had he felt he would prevail. His current condition, however, had raised doubts that he could handle all three at once. Had he not been disposed of for well over a decade, such doubts would not have crossed his mind and the trio would be dead.

His reverie was interrupted by a gentle tapping on his door. It opened to reveal a middle-aged man charged with the day to day care of the Death Eaters, and more recently, the wandmaker.

"My Lord," the man greeted with a bow. "Ollivander is awake."

"Then bring him in," Voldemort ordered, dismissing the former healer with an irritated wave.

He took a seat behind the desk and waited until he heard approaching footsteps, one set more laboured than the other.

"Leave us," he commanded once more when the duo arrived, the man that had provided his wand looking considerably older and worse for wear than when they had first met. "I do not suppose you remember me."

The wandmaker coughed before composing himself.

"Tom Riddle," he croaked. "I told you upon your first visit to my shop that you could be great."

Voldemort smirked slightly at the curious man. Even the professors that had spent years in his company had not been so astute. Other than Dumbledore.

"Have I not become so?" he asked.

"You have," Ollivander agreed, "just not in the way I hoped."

The smirk of the Dark Lord vanished as he stood, revelling in the flinch the simple gesture elicited in the man before him.

"Your opinion on what I have achieved matters not," he hissed gently. "You are here because I have need of you. For now, you are no enemy of mine. It would be in your best interest to keep it that way."

Ollivander nodded.

"Then how is it I may serve you?"

"I need nothing from you other than for you to check my wand, the very same one you gave me so many years ago."

"Of course," Ollivander agreed. "What appears to be the problem?"

"There appears to be what I can only describe, a hesitation from it when in use. I would like you to tell me why."

The wandmaker said nothing but held his hand out expectantly. Reluctantly, the Dark Lord handed it to the man, trusting him to not do anything foolish. The Ollivander's had never chosen sides in any conflict and he hoped that were to remain.

He looked on as the man placed the wand to his ear, felt along the shaft of the wood and hummed to himself in appreciation.

"The wand is in excellent condition, particularly for its' age. There appears to be, no damage internally or externally. You have cared for it well."

"Then why the problem?" Voldemort bit back.

Ollivander sighed as he shook his head.

"It could be a number of things. Your magic may have changed significantly over the years or…" he coughed again, this time out of nervousness before schooling his features. "Or you have dabbled in magic that has changed things about you. Ritualistic magic can have a detrimental effect on a relationship between a wizard and his wand."

The Dark Lord's heart sunk as he snatched his wand back from the man. His wand was the one thing he had always been able to rely on, but no longer. The ominous words of the man rung in his ears as he contemplated all the things he had done on his path to greatness and immortality.

"What can be done about it?" he asked after pondering his predicament for a while.

"A new wand may be necessary," Ollivander answered, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Other than that, I am at a loss as to how it can be helped. However, I must warn you that there is no promise that even a new wand will work and certainly not as well as the one you have bonded with over so many decades. My advice would be to find a way to undo some of what you have done, if it is possible."

The Dark Lord frowned. His wand had responded well to the rituals he had undertaken to improve his physical abilities during his younger years. Even with the creation of his horcruxes, the wand had not once skipped a beat, not until he had been resurrected. Was it possible that the failed attempt at creating a horcrux had proven to be a step too far? Had the night he attacked the Potters changed him just that bit too much?

"What of the soul and the relationship to a wand? How significant is it?" he questioned.

The man frowned as he thought on what he had been asked and nodded almost satisfactorily after a few moments.

"I would not pretend to be well versed in such magic, but the soul is the very essence of a being, both man and creature alike. If a soul were to be damaged, there is quite the chance it would affect the relationship between a man and his wand. Two bonded beings, one remaining whole and the other not, the balance no longer exists."

Voldemort nodded his understanding. It was not the news he wanted.

"Then I need you to craft me a new one. If your efforts prove to be successful, you will be released with only your memories modified."

"Very well," Ollivander agreed. "I will require the contents of my shop."

END FLASHBACK

The wandmaker had spent weeks crafting wand upon wand for the Dark Lord, eventually creating one that somewhat resembled what his own once had, though it was not perfect, far from it in truth. Ollivander had been proven correct in his assumption that he would not bond so well with another wand. Even venom taken from his own familiar had done little to remedy the issue.

The failures of the past months are what had him staring at his reflection. Having contemplated the warnings about ritualistic magic from the wandmaker, he had made a decision. His own wand was the only one that would work for him as it should and for that to happen, he knew he would have to make a sacrifice.

Ever since their conversation, he had perused tome after tome from his and the Malfoy library for answers, in case of this eventuality. Though considerable, the Malfoys held nothing on soul magic and his own collection was not as complete as he would have liked. However, he believed he had concocted a way to reverse the process of creating a horcrux, but he would need one of the first he had created. According to his own Arithmancy, the more horcruxes he created, the weaker they became, something he had dismissed as unimportant at first. However, for his newest experiment to have a chance at success, he would need the strongest of his collection. That meant he would need either the diary or the ring, the former the closest to hand. Or so he had believed.

Upon mentioning the diary, he had charged Lucius with caring for, the man had crumbled, fell to his knees and admitted that it was no longer in his possession. The fool had given it to the Weasley girl during a spat with the family. He learnt the girl had died at Hogwarts and that the horcrux had not been retrieved. That meant that it could only be in one of two places; within the chamber that the girl allegedly accessed or in the possession of Dumbledore.

The latter did not bear thinking about. If the man had become aware of his constructs, he would need to be eliminated before he could divulge that information to any. Not that he likely would, the man was as cunning and secretive as he himself, but it was not a risk the Dark Lord was willing to take.

Lucius had been punished harshly for his actions.

Cursing the ineptitude of the man, the Dark Lord had then attempted to retrieve the ring of his family, only to find it missing, much to his chagrin. Such a thing had confused him, and it could only be concluded that Albus had somehow discovered that one also. Frantically, he had searched the cave for the necklace, the only other available to him other than Nagini. Finding that missing also had created a panic within him.

Desperately, he pondered the others. One was safely in Gringotts within the LeStange vault, unobtainable by any other than himself or Bellatrix and the other within the walls of Hogwarts, in a room that would likely never be found. That, however, did not sit well with him. The location of the cup gave him comfort but the diadem was in danger and he needed to retrieve it quickly.

Thankfully, he had an agent within the castle do to do so, and though he was reluctant to trust a Malfoy again, he had no other choice but to do so. He himself could not breach such old wards without alerting Dumbledore and the man would be ready and waiting for such a thing to occur. No, that would not do.

Instead of taking such a risk, Lucius had been tasked with contacting his son to pass on very strict instructions on what he needed to do. So long as the habit of ineptitude was broken, the Dark Lord should have the horcrux he required soon enough, and when the necessary work was complete, he would be able to retrieve the other that remained.

Nagini would of course have to be kept safe, no longer allowed to roam freely, but it was a necessary sacrifice if he were to be as powerful as he had once been and what remained of his most precious creations, safe once more.

(BREAK)

"So, that is all you have to tell me, Lucius? I must say, I'm disappointed."

The man wheezed as he pushed himself on to his knees, the onslaught of curses he had suffered having taken their toll. It had been a methodical breaking down of his mind, body and spirit before he had given up what little he had been made privy to, but he had eventually succumbed.

"I have fallen far from grace, Black. Need I remind you of my own failings this past year?"

Harry shook his head as he grinned malevolently.

"No. Your failings are because of your own choices. I, however, am going to give you one chance at redemption and it will be Draco's life that depends on it."

Lucius tried to push himself to his feet in panic but fell back to his knees panting.

"I can't," he pleaded. "He will kill me."

Harry shrugged uncaringly.

"If you don't, I will kill your son and ensure the Malfoy line is brought to an end."

He felt no guilt for the plight of the man. The life he had chosen to lead, the corruption, the supporting of Tom and all his other misdeeds had led him to this point. It was never going to end well for Lucius Malfoy. There was only one thing left for Harry to exploit; his pride in his family name. Lucius would not risk the survival of his line, not even for the Dark Lord.

"What is it I must do?" he sighed defeatedly.

(BREAK)

It was a downtrodden Lucius Malfoy that returned to his lavish home, the realisation that he ultimately had to choose between his own life, or that of his son's weighing him down. There was simply no way that both would survive what was to come, Black and the Dark Lord had seen to that.

Reaching his temporary rooms, he poured himself a generous measure of scotch and washed it down with a pain reliever to see him through the next encounter with his master. Before exiting, he straightened his robes and fixed his dishevelled appearance in the mirror. Physically, he appeared to be no worse for wear than when he had left only a few hours prior, but in this case, looks were deceiving. Black had broken him down systematically, the same way the Dark Lord had on many occasions. The difference being, the younger of the pair had offered him a reprieve, just not one he was relishing.

Though he had escaped the encounter, it would truly have been a mercy to kill him. He would have much preferred that than the undoubtedly fatal task he had been given. Had he refused, however, he had no reason to believe that Black would not kill Draco. One thing he had learnt of them very early in life, was that their word was as good as the gold his own family was known for.

He smashed his fist against the table the mirror rested on before turning sharply and exiting the room. Making his way through the halls of his home, it was plain to see how far he had fallen. His wealth was gone, the wards no longer under his control and the fate of his son, in the hands of a family that loathed him. Nothing had gone right for him and if he did not remedy it soon, it would not only be his son, but the entire Malfoy family left in ruin.

Reaching the quarters that by rights should be his own, he knocked and waited to be bid entry, his legs still unsteady despite the pain momentarily being gone.

"Enter," the voice of his master instructed.

Lucius did so and bowed respectfully in front of the man as expected.

"My Lord," he greeted, "I have given Draco the instructions and he has assured me that it will be done. It may take a few days as security is tight within the castle."

Voldemort nodded distractedly.

"Very well, Lucius. It will take a few days to prepare. See to it that Draco is successful and not a word to Severus. If I wished for him to be involved, I would have given him this task."

"Of course, My Lord," Lucius complied before taking his leave.

The Dark Lord paid the man no heed, so lost in his own thoughts. The worry of his horcruxes plagued him so. It would have been much easier to have Severus retrieve the diadem, but it was another risk he would not take. The man knew nothing of his creations, and he wanted to keep it that way. His knowledge of the Dark Arts was perhaps only second to his own and if anyone were to be able to recognise a horcrux, it would be Severus Snape.

He had no reason to doubt the man's loyalty other than the considerable amount of time he had spent around Dumbledore. However, his skill in the Mind Arts was exceptional, likely to match his own. Though he had proven himself time and again to be of great assistance, he could never fully trust one so versed in such magic.

"Hunt, Nagini. Eat your fill. You must be kept safe from now on," he hissed.

He watched the serpent slither away fondly before turning his attention to his task. He knew not the difficulty of what he faced or how long it would take to recover, but it had proven to be necessary. With a significant piece of his souls reunited, his wand would once again be as it had and Potter and Dumbledore could be dealt with once and for all, paving the way for his inevitable triumph over wizarding Britain.

(BREAK)

Leo watched with bated breath, his eyes firmly on Katies right hand. It could have merely been a trick of the light or his sleep deprived brain, but he was almost certain that he had seen a twitch in one of her fingers. His watching continued as he silently encouraged her, hoping beyond hope that he had not been fooled.

It was not a further twitching of the finger that gave him the next indication she was waking, but a deep inhale from the girl that pulled her waiting parents from their thoughts.

"Katie," her mother whispered as she approached the bed and began gently caressing the dark hair away from her eyes. With a little more, gentle pressing, they fluttered open and darted around confusedly. "How're you feeling?" Sarah questioned.

"Tired," Katie answered breathily. "What happened?"

"You were cursed, little one," Robert interjected. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Katie shook her head and swallowed.

"I went to the toilet in the Three Broomsticks and then I woke up here."

A tear silently escaped her, and all Leo could do was squeeze her hand softly. She turned and offered him a watery smile, squeezing back as best she could.

"I must look a state," she muttered embarrassedly.

"No, lass. Just as beautiful as ever," he croaked, his voice hoarse from lack of use. "I'll find out who did this. Mark my words, they won't get away with it."

Katie shook her head.

"No, please just leave it. I don't want you to get into more trouble."

Before he could argue, Robert shot him a warning look as he shook his head.

"Listen to her, boy. I will not have you putting her life in danger anymore. If you can't let this go, then you'd better leave and not come back. Hasn't she already suffered enough?"

Leo looked between the father and daughter, every instinct that had been drilled into him screaming for him to defy the man and not respect the wishes of the girl. Meeting her gaze, however, he couldn't do such a thing.

"Aye. You're more important to me than that," he sighed.

Katie offered him a weak smile as her father nodded approvingly.

"Good. Now go home and get yourself cleaned up. You look as though it has you that has been cursed," the man chastised. "We will stay with her."

Leo nodded gratefully and kissed the girl on the forehead who wrinkled her nose.

"Ergh, you smell worse than me after quidditch training," she complained.

"Now you know what I have to put up with," he quipped as he took his leave.

He felt lighter than he had in days, most of his worries lifted with Katie's waking. Passing the reception desk on his way to the exit, he notified the woman of the latest development before stepping into muggle London and apparating back to Grimmauld Place. There was little more he wanted right now than a good meal, a shower and perhaps some sleep. It had been days since he'd had any of the three.

His first stop when he arrived was the bathroom. Whilst there, he cleaned off the accumulated grime of the past days before dressing and heading to the kitchen. It was when he was seated at the table with a sizable plate of eggs and bacon that Harry arrived.

"She's awake," he announced happily.

"Good," Harry answered, pleased for the boy. "I have an update for you. I just need you to promise me that you will let me handle it, for now."

Leo nodded.

"Malfoy," Harry huffed. "Draco has been given a rather impossible task and Katie got caught up in it."

"How did you find out?"

"Lucius. I came across him in Hogsmeade and he told me everything. Now he is the one with the impossible task. If all goes well, both will be dead within the week."

Leo shook his head in confusion.

"Nah. Lucius wouldn't do something for nothing," he denied.

"I promised that I wouldn't kill his son if he does as he's told." He held up a hand as Leo was about to protest. "I didn't promise that I would save the boy if needed. Chances are that the idiot will get himself killed."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then he's all yours," Harry shrugged.

Leo muttered under his breath incoherently.

"I promised I wouldn't," he admitted to a curious Harry. "I promised Katie I would leave it."

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Come off it. If Tonks told you to do the same, you would."

Harry frowned but nodded.

"She wouldn't. She wouldn't ask me to choose between her and killing him."

"She's more likely to bloody help you," Leo chuckled before sobering. "Katie isn't like us, nor Tonks. She's a damned good quidditch player but she's no fighter, lad."

"Maybe she is exactly what you need," Harry replied with a warm smile.

"Aye, someone to keep me calm and not act the eejit."

Harry laughed as he made his way towards the door.

"I'm happy for you. With a bit of luck, this will all be over soon enough, and you can have whatever life you decide. Just don't forget about us."

Leo snorted.

"Never. I'll always be around so long as you can put up with me. I've got you all and Cass. I might not be a Black but you're the only family I've got."

Harry nodded appreciatively.

"Aye," he mocked, "I'd do the same for you as I would any of the others."

Leo smiled gratefully.

"So, what's next?"

Harry sighed in frustration.

"Another meeting with Dumbledore. I need to have a discussion with him about Malfoy and explain my latest plan. He won't like it, but he can lump it as far as I'm concerned. It's my way or he can keep out of it."

"Aye. He's a damned liability that one. If you need me for anything, let me know."

"I will," Harry assured him before leaving the room.

Leo yawned as he cleared his plate with a wave of his wand and levitated it towards the sink. Today had been a good day overall. Katie had woken and if what Harry said was true, the war could soon be at an end. He knew not exactly what his friend had planned, but the boy was meticulous if nothing else. He had no doubt that he would be successful and if he was fortunate, both Malfoys would also be dealt with.

With that final thought warming him, he climbed into bed for a well-needed rest, his eyes closing only seconds after he head hit the pillow.

(BREAK)

Once again, Harry found himself within the office of the headmaster, sat opposite the man himself. It was a strange feeling to be associating with Dumbledore, someone whom he had done all he could the previous year to avoid. Now, the two had become somewhat allies in the pursuit of putting an end to Tom though both had differing opinions on just how that should be done.

Dumbledore believed that patience was required lest mistakes were made on their part, potentially but inadvertently extending the conflict. Harry, believed the opposite to be the better option, particularly now with the knowledge he had gather from Lucius Malfoy.

"It makes sense to strike sooner. He knows that the horcruxes are missing. Lucius said himself, he had been furious when he learnt of what had happened to the diary and he certainly wouldn't choose one of the riskiest to achieve unless it was necessary. I'm certain he knows that the ring and necklace are missing and without Bellatrix, and the LeStrange brother's incapable, he can't get to the cup."

Dumbledore sighed as he nodded.

"I suspect that you are right, Harry," he conceded. "What is it you intend on doing?"

"That is for me to know, Dumbledore," Harry replied firmly. "I came only to inform you that I intended to put an end to this sooner rather than later."

Dumbledore could only nod his understanding.

"Then I wish you well in your endeavour. The fate of wizarding Britain depends on it."

Harry snorted, ignoring the reference to the prophecy. He'd accepted that there may be a kernel of truth to it, but he refused to acknowledge anything further.

"Did you know that Draco had been tasked with killing you?"

"Severus did bring it to my attention."

"And you did nothing to prevent the attempt?"

Dumbledore deflated.

"I had hoped the boy would see the error of his ways. I know that were he to fail, Tom would punish him most harshly."

"So, instead, you allowed him to try? Katie was almost killed because of your reluctance to deal with him. Had she have done, Draco would have been the least of your worries. Where is he anyway?"

"Severus will arrive with him shortly. I ask that you do not attempt to harm him. As headmaster of this school, I will be compelled to offer what protection I can to him."

Harry chuckled.

"If I do not fear Tom, who truly wants me dead, I certainly do not fear you, Dumbledore. Draco will not be harmed, that I can promise you. He still has a purpose to serve, one that may just save his life."

"I truly wish it had not come to this," Dumbledore lamented. "Being a pawn in a war is no place for a boy."

"Neither is attempted murder, but he we are. Had Draco not been so keen to join Tom, he could have escaped all this unscathed. You reap what you sow, Dumbledore. You should know that by now. I am making full use of an advantage I hold. Nothing more."

The headmaster had no reply for the words spoken and the two waited in silence until a knock on the door sounded. At Dumbledore's bidding, it opened to reveal the potions master and a very nervous Draco Malfoy who paled even further when he spotted the Lord Black seated only a short distance away.

"Draco, Lord Black has requested the chance to speak with you," Dumbledore announced to the now shaking boy.

The boy nodded nervously, trying to conceal his apprehension behind a look of indifference.

"I know what you have been up to, Draco," Harry declared. "Voldemort has given you the task of killing Dumbledore.

Malfoy paled but Harry continued before he could deny the accusations.

"Unfortunately for you, you have failed and someone close to me was caught up and almost killed by your efforts."

"I haven't done anything," Malfoy denied. "You can't prove it."

"Are you calling your father a liar?"

"My father?"

"We had quite a productive discussion recently and he has agreed to help me."

Draco shook his head in denial.

"You're lying. My father would never help you."

"Ordinarily, no," Harry agreed, "but when I told him that I would kill you, he became rather compliant. As we speak, he is carrying out a task for me and you will do the same. If you refuse, I will kill your mother, your father and will burn your home to ground and then I will let Lord Whelan decide your fate. He knows that it was you that almost killed Katie. What kind of punishment do you think he would demand?"

"I've done nothing wrong," Draco almost wailed desperately. "Leave my mother and father alone."

"Denying it will not help. Do so again and I will tear through your mind and get a confession that way. The fate of your mother and father, is up to you. If you help me then perhaps one or both will survive."

"No, you're lying to me," Malfoy denied once more.

Harry removed a small object and held it out to Draco.

"Is this not your family ring, the one that sits on your father's finger?"

Draco snatched it from Harry's grip and stared at it wide-eyed.

"How did you get this?" he demanded.

"From Lucius, of course. He wasn't willing to part with it, but he understood your need to see the truth. So, will you help me, Draco, or would you like to begin planning the funeral of both your parents?"

Malfoy looked helplessly between Snape and Dumbledore, the latter not meeting his stare and a look of discomfort marring his features. The former remained as impassive as ever and Draco addressed him furiously.

"You're a traitor!" he accused. "You've turned your back on the Dark Lord."

"Only after he turned on me," Snape spat. "Can you not see, boy, the Dark Lord is finished. He is nothing but a shadow of what he once was. He relies on potions that cannot repair the damage he has done to himself. He has lost. Don't be a fool all your life, Draco."

Malfoy shook his head as he backed away.

"I didn't want this," he sobbed. "I only wanted to make my father proud. I thought I could do it, but it just got harder and harder."

"Then do the right thing," Harry interjected. "Help me put an end to him and then you may be able to salvage something of your family."

"He'll kill me. He'll kill my mother and father."

Harry sighed as he stepped towards the boy.

"You have proven to be a spoilt, vile little shit and your father much, much worse. I cannot promise I will save him, but I will do what I can for your mother. She is a Black after all."

"My mother?"

Harry nodded.

"It is the best I can do for you, Draco. Take the opportunity I am giving you and be grateful. By rights I should be killing you all. I am giving you the chance to live."

"Is he telling the truth?" Draco questioned Snape.

"He is," he confirmed.

Draco released a deep breath before nodding his agreement.

"Good," Harry declared, "your part in this is the easiest."

(BREAK)

James Potter shifted the pile of parchment on his desk, cursing that he had accepted Arcturus Black's idea of becoming the Minister of Magic. For the most part, he spent his days cooped up in his office dealing with mundane things his subordinates should be capable. He despised this aspect of his job, but it would only be temporary. When Voldemort was dealt with and any wayward Death Eaters brought to justice, he would leave the post, content with what had been achieved.

Until then, he could tolerate monotony of the paperwork, the people trying to kiss arse to elevate their own positions and the endless wizengamot meetings being called.

It had been three months since the Dark Lord or any of his followers had been spotted, three months of paper pushing and running the country, something he was not enjoying. Occasionally, when the chance arose, he would join the aurors on their patrols, somewhere he was much more comfortable. When it was the right time, he would re-join the ranks. He missed some of his colleagues and he missed being in the thick of the action. Being Minister came with a lot of prestige, but such a thing was frivolous to James Potter. It truly meant nothing to the man.

He paused his task as he spotted a letter with a familiar scrawl, one that had only become so recently. Since Charlie had been killed, Harry had kept his word to the boy and had been a frequent guest for dinner and had given himself and Lily the chance to get to know him. It had been quite strange and awkward at first, but progress was being made, even if it was slowly.

Along with the dinners, he would write, to Lily mostly, but he had written to James also. Such a gesture had warmed the couple and it felt as though they had their son back in a way.

He opened the envelope of the latest missive and began to read. It was a short and simple note, one that filled him with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

It will come to an end soon. Be ready.

H

James nodded, his mind whirring with the implications of the letter and just what it meant. Harry was not one to share specifics and all James could do was as he had been advised.

Gathering his cloak, he exited the office via the floo to do just that, though he didn't know exactly what it was he needed to do to be ready. With a frown, he sent off a patronus to one of the very few people he trusted. If Harry had instructed him to be ready, he meant ensure the aurors would be too. For that, he needed to speak to Bones and Moody also and then play the waiting game. Harry would let him know when he was needed.

(BREAK)

"Are you sure about this plan, Harry?"

Harry released a deep breath.

"It's the best chance we have. I know it's risky, but what choice do we have? I saw an opportunity and took it."

Arcturus nodded slowly.

"You did well. I don't trust Malfoy, however. The man is a coward and will likely get cold feet."

"It's a possibility," Harry agreed. "At worst, it will only be the snake left, and Tom as he is, will not be drawn into an open fight, not until he is certain he has a chance."

"No, he will not," Arcturus sighed. "Have you thought everything through?"

"I have. If everything goes to plan, he will be gone within the week and then it is just a case of rounding up the Death Eaters. James will have the aurors nearby to do just that."

"It's a good plan," Arcturus murmured. "Are you certain it will not be detected?"

"Positive," Harry declared. "The magic is too similar to that of both the diadem and the horcrux. He will not be aware of it until it is too late."

"Okay," Arcturus relented. "I do wish you would reconsider yourself going. Too many things can go wrong."

"It has to be me. The only people I trust enough are not one's I would put in this position. He is mine to kill, anyway."

Arcturus smirked at the stubbornness of the boy. There was that Black determination shining through. Harry had made his decision and there would be no changing his mind.

"Very well. I will coordinate with Potter and be there should you need it."

"Thank you," Harry returned gratefully, offering the man a bow before taking his leave.

The events to come and possible setbacks had been plaguing his mind the past few days and he needed the reassurance of his grandfather that it was not a foolish endeavour or that he had missed anything vital. As ever, he had been as precise as possible, leaving room for error if such a thing were to occur. With the blessing of his grandfather, he was ready. All that was needed now was a message from Lucius Malfoy to inform him that his part had been done. Then, he could finally put this chapter of his life behind him and the spirit of his brother could rest peacefully knowing that Tom had paid for his crimes against them.

(BREAK)

"Mother?" Draco greeted in surprise as he arrived at the Shrieking Shack to find her waiting for him. "Where is father?"

"He is waiting for me to bring him the item. Lord Black was very firmly against the two of you seeing each other until all of this is over."

Draco nodded as he pulled the woman into a tight embrace.

"What are we going to do?" he questioned.

Narcissa gave a teary smile as her son held her tight to him. He had been but a boy the last time he had shown any affection towards her.

"We do as Lord Black has asked of us. Your father is in agreement, Draco, I can promise you that. Our priority is to keep you safe, my son."

"And then what? We get our revenge later?"

Narcissa shook her head.

"It would be foolish to try. To our detriment, your father didn't allow you to learn much of your other family. The Malfoys cannot hope to stand against the might of the Blacks, Draco. Even your father can see that through his own pride."

"So, we let them win?" the teen questioned angrily.

"We've already lost," Narcissa corrected. "Our wealth, our influence and our power are all gone."

"Father wouldn't allow it," Draco denied.

"He has already conceded, but he wanted me to pass on a message to you. He says that his final wish is that you listen and do as he asks."

Draco swallowed deeply as he nodded.

"He says that when the time is right, sell the house and the items of worth within. It will give you enough money to begin replenishing the family fortune. Borgin and the goblins will be able to help you with that. He wishes for you to find a pureblood girl to continue the line and to learn from the mistakes that he has made. He suggests you read the journals of your grandfather, Abraxus, and become a better man than he did."

"Is father going to die?"

Narcissa could only shrug in response.

"We can only hope not. He has been put in a difficult position, Draco. He just wants to be certain that everything has been covered in the event of that eventuality."

As the tears began to fall, Narcissa pulled her son close to her once more, running her fingers through his hair as she had done when he was a babe.

"I don't want him to die," the boy choked.

"Neither do I, Draco," Narcissa whispered. "He loves you so very much. He has doted on you since you came into this world. He's likely never said it, but you are the thing he is most proud of."

Draco nodded into her chest.

"I need to take it to him, Draco. I want you to return to the school and stay there until you hear from myself or your father, is that understood?"

"Yes, mother," the boy responded uneasily.

"Good. I will be in touch as soon as possible."

With her parting words, Narcissa retrieved the box her son had brought and exited the shack, fighting back the sob that threatened to break free before apparating away.

(BREAK)

The Dark Lord was losing patience. It seemed like hours ago that Lucius had informed him that Draco had retrieved the diadem successfully from the room of hidden things within the castle. He had immediately sent the man to fetch it, his own preparations having been completed for some time.

"Enter," he barked as a tapping at the door interrupted his thoughts.

A very nervous Lucius crossed the threshold with a small box in hand. He cleared the distance between himself and his master quickly and fell to one knee.

"My Lord, as promised, Draco has acquired what you asked for."

"And he did not touch it?"

"He assures me, he did not, my lord."

Voldemort nodded.

"I am inclined to believe you, Lucius. Had he done, your weak son would likely not have survived the night."

"My son listens to me, my lord. He would not defy an order from you."

"I am pleased to hear it, Lucius. Perhaps you and your offspring are not as useless as I had begun to believe. Now, leave me. Ensure that I am not disturbed. I will send for you when needed."

"Of course, my lord," Malfoy complied with a bow before scrambling from the room.

After the man had fled, the Dark Lord placed the box upon the desk and opened the lid to reveal something he had not seen in over five decades. The diadem itself was valuable for the materials used to craft it, but it was what it housed that made it more so. There was no amount of gold in existence that could entice him to part with it, though even if he did, it would undoubtedly return to his possession one way or the other.

Levitating it from the box, he placed it into the centre of the floor where he had been meticulously carving the required runes over the past few days. It had been dull, laborious work but would prove to be fruitful.

He began by drawing out a quart of blood from his arm before filling the runes with the viscous liquid and with a sigh, sealed the wound.

"Now, it begins," he muttered as he sat, gripped the diadem and activated the array of symbols surrounding him.

(BREAK)

"You're certain it's going to be tonight, aren't you?" Tonks asked worriedly.

"I can feel it," Harry replied, his mind already focused on the enormity of the task before him. "Draco has delivered what he needs. It's only a matter of time."

Tonks nodded.

"I don't like this, Harry. Please, at least take someone with you."

"No one else will fit under the cloak. Taking someone else only doubles the risk of being caught before I can get to him, Dora. It has to be me alone. If anything goes wrong, I couldn't have that on my conscience."

"And what about mine?" the woman bit back. "Do you think I could live knowing I let you go?"

"Let me?" Harry replied with a raised brow.

Tonks stood confidently, staring him in the eyes for a moment before speaking once more.

"If you felt for me even close to what I do for you, you wouldn't this if I asked you. I know you wouldn't."

Harry smirked at the woman, proud she was standing up to him but also amused.

"But you wouldn't ask me not to," he pointed out. "You know how much killing him means to me." He sighed as he took her hand in his own. "But you're right. If you did ask me not to, I wouldn't. For you."

Tonks smiled as she shook her head at him.

"No, I wouldn't ask you, but I'm scared, Harry. I'm scared of losing you and I'm scared of being alone again."

Harry gave her a chaste kiss as he cupped her cheek.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Then trust me when I tell you that I will come back to you. Trust me when I tell you I have every intention of marrying you when this is over with."

Tonks raised an amused eyebrow in his direction.

"So, you have no interest in seeing what other matches are out there?"

Harry recoiled dramatically and grabbed his chest.

"I'm offended you think so little of me," he chuckled.

Tonks hummed as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"And what makes you so sure I'd want to marry a git like you?"

"You said yourself, you wouldn't want to be without me," he pointed out.

"I suppose that is true," she conceded. "If you mean it, then a lot of people will not be happy."

"And why would I care about anyone else? I care about you and me. If anyone has a problem with it, then they can take it up with me."

Tonks laughed at his defiance and stubbornness. For many, such traits would be infuriating, but she liked that about him. When he set his mind to it, there was nothing he couldn't achieve, and his stubbornness was a big part of that.

"That is, if you'll have me," he continued, the vulnerable side of him rarely seen showing through.

Tonks pulled him into an embrace.

"Of course, I'll have you, you idiot. There's no one that could ever be what you are to me, Harry."

She felt him smile against her neck and it warmed her heart. Recently, any smile from him had been absent, his mind occupied by the events of the past year. For many, it would have broken them. But Harry had proven to be stronger than most, his resilience, his determination and his need of closure pushing him on. She was proud of him, prouder than she had ever been of anyone. After all the adversity he had faced and overcome, he had grown into a great young man, one that would continue to do so.

He suddenly stiffened in her arms and gently pushed her away.

"It's time," he whispered as he waved his wand and summoned all that he would need this night.

For a minute or so, he busied himself with sending off the necessary messages to ensure all those that were required would be there, waiting for their own opportunity to strike. For now, however, he would be alone. It would be just him and Tom, the way it was always supposed to be.

"James will send for you, Dora," he explained hurriedly. "You will be kept out of the property until I manage to destroy the wards and put up my own."

"Can I please come with you? I can disguise myself as a Death Eater."

Harry shook his head as he took her hand.

"I can't have that distraction. I know you're more than capable of handling yourself, but there could be hundreds of them in there. I can't risk you being in there with me."

Tonks nodded reluctantly.

"Have I never kept a promise to you?" he asked.

"No. You've always kept them."

"And I will keep this one."

She released a deep breath before replying.

"I don't doubt you, Harry. Just make sure this isn't one the first and only that you do break."

"I will," he declared before giving her a final kiss and vanishing with a gentle pop.

He arrived in the Wiltshire countryside with the taste and scent of the girl still on his lips. It served only to steel his resolve. Perhaps he had been preoccupied with what had happened to his brother, but he was here now and here to put an end to the cause of his misery. Tonks understood that he needed to do it and why. She understood him better than any ever had.

Shaking the thoughts of the girl away, he pressed forward, doing his best to not disturb the undergrowth on the approach to the manor a short distance away. There would be little reason for Tom to have sentries, but Harry was not willing to risk it. It would be foolish to do so and be caught out by something so trivial after all.

Reaching the ward line, he checked to ensure that the cloak was covering every part of him before stepping through and pausing. None of the other manors he had breached had been protected by such an extent of wards and this was the first time he had not been completely certain in the capabilities of it. Lucius had told him himself that the wards here were old, powerful and none had ever successfully gotten through and lived to tell the tale.

The cloak, however, seemingly proved once more that no ward could detect it. Still, he did not understand the magic fully imbued into the fabric, but he would not question the advantage he it gave him.

Seeing that none had been alerted to his presence, he approached the western wall of the building and tapped his wand three times against the brick closest the bay window, as indicated by the lord of the lands. He was relieved when an opening formed revealing a servant's passage no longer in use since the Malfoys had begun to use elves instead.

The inside was full of dust and cobwebs as one would expect, but Harry ignored them only removing the debris with a wave of his wand as he reached the top of the passage that should take into a disused room on the second floor of the large house. He braced himself and held his wand aloft after tapping another brick that caused a small door to pop open in front of him with a click.

True to the word of the Malfoy patriarch, the room was not in use, any furniture within having been covered with white sheets that had too accumulated a layer of dust during the years they had been left. Doubling the silencing and scent marking charms on himself, he crossed the room and cracked the door just open that he could hear any sounds from within the hall on the side.

This would be the riskiest part of the evening; making his way to the other side of the manor without being detected. Lucius had not been able to give a definitive answer as to how many Death Eaters and followers of the Dark Lord were here at one time. The only thing the man could be certain of, was that there was a considerable number. Wizards and witches would not be his only problem. Tom indeed had not been idle in his absence. Recruitment had been slow for the man, but he had managed to convince a number of werewolves to join him.

Hearing nothing concerning, he exited the room and pulled the door gently closed, his eyes darting around the long hall he found himself in. It was no secret that the Malfoys had been a wealthy family and the décor did nothing to detract from that notion.

The floor was constructed entirely of marble and the pillars reaching all the way to the ceiling far above had been crafted in the same vain. Portraits and landscapes lined the walls as far as the eye could see and the furniture was made of only the finest woods and metals available. If style and elegance denoted power, the Malfoys would be at the top of the list of the very best.

Harry had no time for such pomp. He had been raised amongst the grandeur and luxury of the Blacks and that was more than enough for him. He couldn't imagine living somewhere like this and certainly would find no joy in it. For the most part, he was of a simpler disposition. He had once resided in a damned cupboard so frivolities such as what was on display did nothing for him.

With a shake of his head, he continued on his way carefully navigating the twisting and turning halls of the home. By the time he had reached only a quarter of the way to his destination, he'd had to avoid being walked into twice by oncoming Death Eaters, one a large group of unpleasant looking men and women. He managed to duck into a narrow crevice that was thankfully devoid of anything within. Had it not been, he would have been discovered. He released a deep breath he had held as they passed him by, none of them wise to the danger that lurked so close to them.

When they had left the vicinity, he pressed on, glad that Lucius had the foresight to deliver the diadem later in the evening. Had he not, the task before him would be that more daunting.

Again, he found himself having to press himself flat against the wall as this time, a lone death eater approached him coming the opposite way, muttering under his breath about the cramped conditions they had to endure. So lost in his own thoughts, he too did not realise the potential danger he was in as he passed but a few inches away from the teen who was ready to put the man down if needed.

Once more, Harry continued towards his destination, thankful that the others within the house were seemingly occupied elsewhere. After more close calls than he was comfortable with, he arrived at a large oak door inscribed with the Malfoy coat of arms.

This, Lucius explained, was the family wing, the set of rooms that he'd vacated for the Dark Lord to occupy. Housed within the next corridor should be six rooms, the furthest away being where he would hopefully find Tom, alone.

He gave a cursory glance around before entering the hall and closing and locking the door behind him with a gentle hiss. None would come beyond this point without him knowing.

Thankfully, the hall had no guards. Evidently, Tom felt secure enough within the home to have no need of them, a mistake that would cost him. As he reached the door that separated him from his foe, he braced himself once more before pushing it open, grinning at the sight that he was met with.

For all intents and purposes, it appeared that his plan had worked. Doubled over and wincing in pain was the man that had caused much of his own.

"Hello, Tom," he greeted as he removed his cloak and pushed the door closed, sealing it with a hiss, just as he had the other.

The Dark Lord glared at him in return and reached for the wand just out of his reach.

(BREAK)

The runes began to fade, and he fell on all fours, gasping for breath. At some point during the ritual, he had been hoisted to his feet, though he had been unaware of the development. His knees hurt from where they had collided with the marble floor and it took him several moments to catch his bearings, his head spinning as the magic pumped through his veins.

After what must have been several minutes, his equilibrium righted itself and he managed to pull himself to his feet without relieving himself of the contents of his stomach. Overall, the experience had not been as debilitating as he had expected and he felt invigorated, better than he ever had these past fourteen years. He could feel his magic more clearly, a fog that he did not know existed lifted from within his mind. He felt, more like he once had, the successful returning of his soul fragment tempering him. It was serene almost, calming the thoughts and worries that had plagued him. Once again, he felt untouchable.

He retrieved his first wand from the desk where it rested, the warmth of it reminiscent of the very first time he held it when he was eleven years old and preparing to enter his first year at Hogwarts.

With a flick, the tip illuminated brightly without hesitation and it brought the first genuine smile to his lips for many years. Even when he had regained a body after such an absence, it had not filled him with such joy.

The joy, however, was short-lived.

The first indication that something had gone awry was with a sudden tightness in his chest, excruciating enough for him to lose grip on his wand as he clutched at his heart. Only a few seconds later, he once again found himself on his knees, fighting to simply breathe as the constriction increased causing his breaths to become desperate.

Knowing he needed assistance, he began crawling towards his wand to send for help, only to be stopped in his tracks by an unwelcome and familiar voice. It could only be one persona capable enough of entering the property as he had many others and only one of two that had the audacity to address him by the filthy name his mother had given him.

"Hello, Tom."

The Dark Lord glared at the teen, equally furious as he was fearful in his vulnerable state. It was then that his world began crashing down around him, the realisation of what had been done set in.

This had been orchestrated by the smug boy stood before him. He had made no error in his work; it had been sabotaged.

"Coward," he managed to wheeze through pained breaths as he lunged for the wand still a foot away.

He never reached it but a scream of his own rent the air as his hand was pulverised by a curse courtesy of the boy.

"I don't think you are one to throw that word around lightly, Tom," Harry chastised. "Twice you had the opportunity to face me and twice it was you that fled."

Voldemort coughed as he laughed.

"A true hero," he snarked.

"I have no intention of being a hero. I want you dead. It doesn't matter to me how, so long as I get to do it."

"So, you choose the most cowardly way, by killing a defenceless man."

"I like to think I got my inspiration from you, Tom. I doubt you've ever given anyone a fair fight in your life. Why do you deserve one?"

The Dark Lord had no response. Instead, he tried to immolate the boy with his scarlet eyes.

"Tell me, what do I have to gain from engaging in a duel with you? I might win or I might lose. Why would I risk my family legacy by being so foolish? You have more than five decades of experience on me. You have undergone may rituals and I have no shame in admitting you are an excellent wizard. Why do something so stupid when I have much to live for?"

"You would be revered above all others should you beat me," Voldemort offered.

Harry snorted.

"I see no value in such a thing," he shrugged. "I am the Lord Black. The continuation of my line means more than my own legacy. I have a beautiful woman waiting for me to return to her and people that need me. I will not risk their safety and their happiness by allowing you a chance to kill me. That is the one thing you underestimated, Tom. Purebloods will always do what is needed for the sake of their line. Lucius did and that is why you are where you are now."

Voldemort hissed furiously as the level of deception was revealed to him. Harry ignored the man as he approached and kicked him onto his back.

"What did you do to me?" the Dark Lord panted.

Harry smirked, revelling in the pain and misery of the man before answering.

"When you demanded the return of one of your horcruxes, I gathered that you would likely try to reincorporate back with yourself. Even if you didn't, my own work would have made the one I gave you useless. It was quite a stroke of genius if I do say so myself. I imbued the diadem with a series of binding curses, spells that you would have overlooked had you checked them. They were almost identical to the ones you yourself placed on it to house your soul within. What you are feeling now is what I did until my own magic was unbound. Your magic is no longer available to you, unless I was to die. I took that little bit of inspiration from the curse Crouch used on Dora when she was under the lake. Though, I suspect he learnt such a curse from yourself."

Voldemort gritted his teeth as another wave of agony washed over him.

"And I wouldn't worry about your other horcruxes, Tom. The ring, the diary, the cup, the necklace, the snake and even the one you left in me have all been dealt with. I think the world will be a much better place without you in it."

Voldemort's eyes widened as his remaining safeguards were listed, the fear within him increasing tenfold.

"Anyway, I have nothing else to say to you, Tom. I gave you the chance to allow myself and my brother to walk away and you chose the other option. Now all that's left is for me to fulfil my promise to you."

"What promise?" Voldemort asked fearfully.

"Oh, didn't any of your followers pass on the message?" Harry questioned as he drew a dagger from within his sleeve. "My first day in the Wizengamot, I told them that I was coming for you, that you would suffer and that I would carve your heart out before you die. I think I might keep it in a jar. That seems rather suitable for a Black, don't you think?"

Any fight the man may have been able to muster was subdued as the blade sunk into his chest to the hilt, the scream dying in his throat as it filled with blood.

(BREAK)

"He's been in there a while," the voice of Moody growled in the darkness.

"He's fine," Tonks whispered. "If he wasn't, we'd know. He wouldn't go down quietly."

"Aye," Moody agreed.

The group fell silent once more, the entire auror force and every able member of the Order of the Phoenix waiting for the signal to begin mopping up the death eaters within the manor.

Harry had been firm in his instructions. None were to attempt to enter without his signal. It would be his life at risk in there were they not to comply.

James had firm control over the Ministry forces, none daring to disobey the orders he had given. He may now be the Minister, but there were few willing to put themselves in the wrong end of the man's wand.

The silence became deafening as it stretched on, those lying in wait growing restless during their vigil. Such peace, however, came to a loud and abrupt end.

A strange whistling sound could be heard from around them, causing the mem ad women to be on high alert. The intensity of the noise increased until it screeched, causing many to cover their ears in discomfort. When it appeared that it couldn't possibly get any louder, the ground beneath their feet trembled and the sound ceased. A split second later found them scrambling to their feet, the shockwave of the collapsing wards having sent them sprawling.

"THE SIGNAL," an auror shouted, pointing towards the manor in the distance.

"WITH ME," James roared. "LET NONE ESCAPE."

Following his lead, the gathered men and women charged towards the house, ready to bring an end to the conflict that had reigned over their shores. Many were fighting for the loved ones waiting for them at home, others for glory and for the peace they sought. No matter the reason, they were motivated, determined to put an end to the threat of the Dark Lord and his followers once and for all.

The sound of spell fire reached them as they neared, shouts of anger and pain following soon after and that of doors being flung open as those within tried to flee the house, the safety of the wards no longer protecting them.

"TAKE THEM DOWN," James ordered as a large group of men and women poured from the house, some in a state of undress, panicked by the sudden need to abandon their retreat.

Seemingly, they hadn't had time to prepare for the attack as many fell without resistance. Those that did put up a fight were overwhelmed quickly, their lack of organisation being their downfall. Still, bodies continued to pour out of the doors of the house and eventually, those that remained became wise to the tactics being used against them.

Quickly and efficiently, some more seasoned men and women took charge and the death eaters managed to erect something resembling an effective defence. Once situated, they returned spell fire, putting the forces of the aurors and the order on the backfoot.

Tonks peered across her own line spotting the likes of Moody and Potter relentlessly firing spells towards their adversaries and Dumbledore doing all he could to defend himself and those around him, reluctant to attack as he had always been.

The force of the Dark Lord began to steadily grow as the two groups traded spells, those still making their exit being drawn to the safety of their comrades that had huddled together and created some makeshift barricades. There was, however, nowhere for them to run, they were cornered animals, and cornered animals were at their most dangerous.

Tonks did all she could to bring an end to the fight. Curse after curse and spell after spell left her wand, felling many. It seemed, however, that any that fell were immediately replaced with another to take their place, the number of people within having been considerably underestimated.

"HOLD FIRM," James Potter shouted as he continued his own work, noticing the morale of their forces slowly becoming depleted as more of their own fell to the retaliation of the death eaters.

Tonks redoubled her efforts, bringing a man screaming to the ground with a well-placed Piercing Hex. She had no time to celebrate however as a barrage was sent her way. She deflected one spell and rolled to avoid another before erecting a shield and returning fire with a spell of Harry's own creation.

A bolt of green lighting shot from her wand and collided with her attacker's chest, tearing a scream from his lungs as his tongue and eyes exploded. She followed up with another spell, this one bursting her target's ears and rupturing his testicles.

Harry had explained that these spells had been created in error when he had been working on other things. However, they had proven to be quite useful, the results cringeworthy and a stern warning to any that would consider engaging with any throwing around such magic.

Moody gave her a nod of appreciation as the fighting continued. It did so in what could only be described as a stalemate, neither the death eaters nor aurors able to seize any advantage against the other. But both sides fought on regardless, one wanting to subdue and capture the other, the opposing group wanting to escape that had been sprung on them.

A sudden coldness enveloped the grounds, and it had little to do with the chilly December night. A gentle missed rolled in as a shrieking could be heard somewhere in the distance.

"What the bloody hell is that?" someone questioned.

"Dementors," Moody growled, readying his wand.

Such a move proved to be unnecessary as when the creatures emerged from behind the manor, a blinding light followed them and chased them away from the conflict.

Blinking away the blind spots, Tonks' vision cleared just as the front door of the manor was blasted open and a figure emerged from within, stilling the violence between the groups.

"Harry," she whispered, relieved to see him well.

(BREAK)

With his work done, he shrunk down his new trophy and pocketed it before covering himself in the cloak once more and exiting the room. His next stop was the ward stone, the location of which having been reluctantly provided by Lucius Malfoy. To access it, he needed to reach the level above and locate the hidden room that stored all the items the Ministry would be very interested in getting their hands on. Harry cared not for these. As a Black, he too had items that would be any aurors big break should they happen across them.

Carefully, not wanting to draw attention to himself at this crucial stage, he left the family wing and climbed the stairs a short distance away, grateful that whoever resided within the house had seemingly turned in for the night.

Checking his watch. He was surprised to see how long this part of his task had taken. Two hours had almost past since he entered the property, the small setbacks he had faced accumulating into a considerable amount of elapsed time.

Calming himself, he reached the required door and pressed the Malfoy ring against the lock. The gentle click sounded like a gunshot I the din of the night and he hurriedly crossed the threshold before closing the door behind him.

He found himself in an opulent office. The wooden furniture matched the rest that could be found throughout the house, but where the floor elsewhere was made of marble, this room was carpeted with a thick pile and the walls adorned with many portraits of Malfoy lord's past. He froze them with a wave of his wand and approached the desk.

Pressing the ring against an innocuous metal ring underneath, another click sounded and a portion of the carpet in the centre of the room lifted to reveal a descending staircase.

"Clever," Harry commented as he made his way down, lighting the tip of his wand as the darkness engulfed him.

Within was an array of books and trinkets that would be at home within the Black vault. Carefully, so not to even brush against any, he navigated his way through the eclectic assortment until he came upon the wall at the rear of the room. For the final time, he used the ring to access a hidden nook that opened to reveal a large, black stone.

He groaned as he spotted the collection of glowing runes carved into it, most of which, he did not recognise.

One could say what they would about the Malfoys, but there was no doubting the seriousness in which they took their security. Harry had never seen such a construct. It left him unashamedly, baffled as to how to proceed.

His knowledge of runes may have been lacking, but his ability in practical magic was not. Tentatively, he pressed the elder wand against the stone, urging it to overwhelm the protective magic.

An ominous ringing began to sound, piercing the air around him. It grew louder and louder and the runes brighter as Harry fought against the magic, the wand and himself being pushed to the limits. The screeching became so high pitched that he was certain his ears were bleeding, but eventually, his determination won out and he was flung across the room from the pressure of the wards collapsing.

Fortunately, he had only dislodged a shelf of books, none that had left him any worse for wear. His efforts, however, had not gone unnoticed. A cacophony of sound ranging from crashing footsteps, raised voices and doors opening had begun, those within the house having been roused by the noise. Evidently, the fools were confused as spell fire began shortly after.

He couldn't be certain if they were fighting amongst themselves in the heat of the moment or had resorted to their usual tactic of simply attacking first. To Harry, it mattered not. He needed to leave and assist the waiting aurors outside the building. The numbers within the home had clearly been inaccurate and he could not help but think they would be overwhelmed if the death eaters fought as a cohesive unit.

Pulling himself to his feet, he climbed the stairs and exited the room into a hallway that had dissolved into chaos. Men and women ran aimlessly around, some casting spells whilst others attempted to dress themselves as they headed towards the nearest exit. One thing was evident, and that was the uncertainty that had befallen them. They didn't know if they were under attack or if the wards had been tripped.

"Where the fuck is Malfoy?" a shirtless man nearby asked another.

"I d-don't know," the other stuttered.

"Get out of my fucking way," the first growled as he barged the man aside. "MALFOY."

The chaos ensued as Harry rushed through and was forced to ascend another staircase as another group charged towards him with their wands drawn.

"EVERYBODY OUTSIDE. AURORS!" a loud voice echoed throughout the building.

The announcement sent the death eaters scurrying, clamouring to get out of the house where they would be trapped in case of a full-frontal assault. To avoid the mob, Harry levitated himself towards the ceiling, taking a moment of pleasure by vanishing a staircase that a dozen or so were sprinting down.

They collapsed in a heap and looked at one another in confusion.

"STOP ARSING AROUND, YOU SHITS. GET OUT THERE," an angry voice commanded.

Pushing the thoughts of the randomly vanishing staircase aside, the sprung to their feet to carry out their orders.

Within moments, the majority of those within had spilled into the grounds with only a few left behind. When it was clearer, Harry allowed himself to drop back to the floor and sprinted off to check that one of the other key parts of his plan had been fruitful.

Hastily, though careful not to miss anything, he scoured the third and fourth floor, pausing as he heard sobbing coming from a room with an open door a short distance away. With his wand braced and ready to use, he nudged it open with his foot and was met by the sight of two mops of platinum hair, one resting upon the chest of the other that lay unmoving.

The creaking of the door opening caught the attention of the woman and her teary eyes shifted towards him before narrowing.

"I hope you're happy," Narcissa hissed.

"Not really," Harry replied uncaringly. "I wanted to kill him myself. You should be grateful he died as he did, Narcissa. Were it left to me, he would have suffered much more."

He gave a final look of disdain towards the bloodied corpse of Lucius Malfoy and to the large snake they lay dead beside him, a large blade protruding from its' skull.

"At least he finally did something worthwhile with his life, but I will keep my word. Your precious son will live but listen to what I have to say because I will not repeat it. If I get even a whiff of ill intention aimed at my family, I will kill you both, blood or not. Do I make myself clear?"

Narcissa nodded nervously, the emerald eyes of the boy unsettling her.

"Good. I would remain hidden until what is going on out there is over. It will unlikely be pretty."

Not waiting for a rebuttal, he left the woman to mourn and felt a sudden chill overcome him as he entered the hallway. Frowning, he rushed to the frosted over window and wiped away the dew before peering through it.

"Bollocks," he groaned as he spotted a sizable swarm of Dementors descending towards the rear of the house.

With a shake of his head, he blew out the window before jumping through it, slowing his fall with an elaborate wave of his wand.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM," he roared as he hit the ground with a thump.

His Hydra careened from the tip of his wand, illuminating the rear of the property flying towards the creatures and eliciting a series of unhappy screeches as it directed them away from the property. They would be a ministerial issue to handle at a later date. His priority now was to get to Tonks and the others that may need his help.

With those thoughts in mind, he charged back inside and made his way to the front of the house, blasting open the main door upon his approach. The conflict that had been raging outside seemingly froze as he crossed the threshold, the death eaters to his right looking towards him with something akin to fear and the combined forces of the aurors and the order in awe.

The ceasefire ended abruptly when a volley of curses was sent his way. Instinctively, he levitated a large amount of loose gravel from the driveway in front and intercepted the barrage. The remaining stones were transfigured into a collection of daggers and sent in the direction the attack had come from.

Several death eaters were impaled on the makeshift blades and screamed in agony. The aurors seized the newfound advantage, reinvigorated by his appearance and continued with their own onslaught causing the death eaters to shield or hide behind their barriers, leaving very little chance to return fire.

Under the efforts of the opposing force, slowly, but steadily, the defences buckled and more and more fell from either spells or exhaustion. The fighting had raged on for an inordinate amount of time until only a small pocket of resistance remained, no longer fighting with fervour or for the cause they had chosen, only for survival.

Seeing that the death eaters were all but crippled, Harry ceased his own offense and rested the tip of his wand against his throat.

"ENOUGH! VOLDEMORT IS DEAD AND YOU'VE ALREADY LOST. DROP YOUR WANDS AND YOU WILL BE TAKEN IN BY THE AURORUS WITH NO MORE HARM DONE TO YOU."

"HE'S LYING," a voice replied, "THE DARK LORD IS NOT DEAD."

With a shake of his head, Harry removed one of the wrapped packages from within his pocket and resized it with a tap of his wand before levitating towards the small group that remained of Tom's followers.

"IF IS HEAD ISN'T ENOUGH PROOF FOR YOU, THEN YOU ARE MUCH MORE STUPID THAN I BELIEVED."

One of the men, the same that had spoken out against him, retrieved the head and disappeared amongst his peers. In the moments that followed, a heated exchange took place amongst them, some adamant that he was lying whilst others were for surrendering.

When the discussion had come to a head, another man stepped forward, this one calmer than the first.

"Why should we believe you? This could be any head that you've transfigured."

Harry huffed irritably. The man did raise a valid point.

"If he was alive and here, do you not think he would be doing all he could to kill me? Would he not do everything he could to prevent all the work he had done his whole life from being destroyed? I am offering you one chance only to escape with your lives. I would take it."

Many seemed to be considering his offer, a smattering of murmuring breaking out amongst the enemy group. One man, however, was defiant and with an inaudible roar, pointed his wand towards Harry.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry intercepted the spell with a conjured chunk of marble and returned with a spell of his own. The man fell to his knees as blood began trickling from every orifice of his body. His comrades looked on as he bled out slowly, his veins visibly protruding until he fell still with a final gurgle.

Witnessing the death of their comrade seemed to shake sense into most as they threw their wands to the ground and placed their hands atop their heads, their eyes fixed on the man that had no intention of complying.

The man that had been negotiating with Harry called out in a foreign language and the rest of the death eaters followed suit, dropping their wands and surrendering to the Ministry forces.

"Are there any others in the house?" Harry questioned.

"There are prisoners in the dungeons and the men that were taken from Azkaban in the medical room. You'll need one of us to open them but there won't be any resistance. They can barely talk, let alone fight back."

Harry nodded as the contingency of aurors began approaching the group, his wand ready to strike should any be foolish enough to resume the fighting. Thankfully, none did and the aurors began rounding them up under the instructions of James Potter. Another group entered the home, taking the negotiator with them to retrieve the rest of the death eaters and the prisoners from within.

Harry had little time for a reprieve as someone impacted against his chest, squeezing him tightly.

"I promised, didn't I?" he muttered tiredly.

Tonks nodded.

"I always believed you."

For a moment, the two were left to enjoy the warmth of one another until the clearing of a throat caught their attention. Spotting his father stood only a few feet away, his hair and robes in disarray from his own efforts, Harry broke the embrace with the woman and pulled the man into his arms instead.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Where the bloody hell else would I be?"

Harry chuckled as the man patted him heavily on the back.

"I couldn't be prouder of you, Harry, for everything you've done."

"I wouldn't be where I am without you," he returned sincerely. "If you hadn't come for me…"

Sirius silenced him with a shake of his head.

"None of that matters. You turned out alright in the end, even if you are a bit too much Black for my liking."

Again, Harry released a gentle laugh. It had always been a point of contention between them. Sirius had tried to make him less a traditional Black than he had become, but in truth, it was inevitable. He had endured too much to be as happy-go-lucky as his father.

"Well, I'm not marrying a pureblood, that should count for something."

Sirius' eyes widened at the revelation as he looked between his son and the metamorph.

"You've made your decision then?"

Harry nodded as he put an arm around Tonks' shoulder.

"I doubt anyone else would be able to put up with him," Tonks sighed.

Sirius released a bark of laughter as Harry shook his head and scanned the area once more.

Surprisingly, the house and grounds had survived the conflict mostly unscathed. It would take a little work to put right, but it was by no means a lost cause. At the very least, Draco and his mother would still have somewhere to live.

He paused his observations as he spied a lone figure overlooking the work of the aurors. Even from the distance he stood, he could see the lost look adorning the features of the man.

"I'll be back," he assured Sirius and Tonks before approaching the man.

James paid him no heed as he did so, his focus on the darkness far off and away from what was happening around him.

"It's over," he stated without emotion.

Harry nodded.

"It is," he agreed.

The man released a staggered breath of relief.

"So, what do we do now?"

"You're the Minister," Harry pointed out, "isn't that your job to decide?"

James snorted.

"Not for much longer. I have no intention of keeping this bloody job. It's back to the aurors for me."

"Government office not to your liking?"

The man shook his head.

"It's bloody boring," he whined. "Honestly, I can't stand another meeting with a bunch of peoples lips pressed against my arse."

Harry laughed heartily at the statement. This was the James Potter that Sirius had tried to tell him about over the years. The man was not one for office work. He needed risk and excitement in his life.

"I would have thought having people worship you would be your thing. From what I heard, you used to love the attention."

James shook his head morosely.

"People change, Harry. I'd give everything I have to go back even a year."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"He'd be proud of you," he offered. "He was always proud of you both, no matter what anyone else said."

James gave him a grateful smile.

"I only took this job for him and for you. I know that it doesn't mean much after everything that has happened, but that is the truth."

"I know," Harry returned.

He had no reason to doubt the man. Having gotten to know him and Lily somewhat over the past months, he had begun to accept that what he had been through hadn't truly been their fault. It had been easy to blame them when growing up and perhaps he was right to in a way, but they could not be held responsible for what had happened. They had been a victim just as much as he had. They were ultimately good people who had done a damn good job raising his brother, despite everything they'd endured.

"I'm getting married," he announced, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "and I'd really like you both to be there. Not as the Minister and his wife but as invited guests."

James smiled warmly at the offer and nodded.

"We'd like that, and Charlie would approve. He was fond of Tonks."

"The little shit would take the piss," Harry countered with a grin. "He was too bloody smart for his own good."

James snorted lightly.

"You know, he planned on getting you and Leo back for what you did to him when he tried to offer you romantic advice. We even had a good prank prepared. We just never got the chance to pull it off."

"Bastard," Harry grumbled good-naturedly.

James released a deep breath as he looked at the boy.

"I'm pleased for you, Harry, I really am."

Harry nodded gratefully but frowned as James stopped himself from continuing.

"What is it?"

James shrugged nervously as he looked away and shook his head.

"I want to ask you something, but I'm scared that you'll think I'm doing it for the wrong reasons or that I'm trying to manipulate you."

"I've been manipulated far too many times to fall for it again," Harry bit back before calming himself. "I know you well enough to know you wouldn't try that. What do you want?"

James gave him a nod of appreciation before speaking.

"I'd like you to accept being the heir to the Potter family." He held up a hand to prevent the impending outburst. "I'm not saying you have to ever be lord but maybe one of your children or even one of theirs could continue the line. Despite how poor I have been, our family is an old one and has been led by great men. I would be remiss in my duties for not asking and prove to be a worse father if I didn't. You don't have to answer now or even in five years' time. The offer will always be there. Please, just think about it?"

"I will," Harry assured the man with a sigh, a headache slowly forming. "You'll get your invite to the wedding, soon I imagine."

"I look forward to it, Harry," James replied, offering the teen a hand.

Harry shook it without reluctance, the first time he had welcomed any such gesture from the man.

With seemingly little else left to say, he allowed the man to return to his duties for however much longer they would be his responsibility. He couldn't blame him for not wanting the post any longer. Being Minister of Magic was a thankless and stressful job.

"Are we finished here?" Sirius asked as he returned to him and Tonks.

"Yeah, I just want to go home now."

Giving a final glance around, he acknowledged a simple bow from Dumbledore with one of his own. He neither liked nor understood the headmaster but he would unashamedly admit that his task would have been much more difficult without his assistance. They would never see eye to eye on most things, but he had developed a grudging respect for the eccentric wizard.

It was with a sense of relief and peace that he apparated away from the Malfoy home. He felt lighter than he ever had and perhaps some of that could be attributed to the lack of hate and disdain for certain people that had weighed him down his whole life.

Now, he had other things to focus on. He no longer needed to question just why he'd had to endure what he had when but a boy nor the motivation behind such.

Dumbledore had proven to not be the man that had plagued his nightmares even more so than Tom had. He was a fool of a different, perhaps worse moral disposition and the Potters had done nothing but fall victim to his machinations.

To Harry, none of that mattered anymore. He had grown and he had moved on. There was none that could do such to him again. His only regret was that he'd lost his brother on the way, and though he had avenged the loss, he still missed the boy and always would. It was never a price that he would have been willing to pay, and the weight of his brother would always rest heavily on him.

He knew that Charlie didn't blame him, and that knowledge is what made the weight bearable.

"I got him, Charlie, just as I promised I would."

A/N

Well, I don't know where to begin even writing what is next.

Life has taken a turn for the worse in recent months. I'm not looking for pity, just stating a fact. I know there are many of us suffering through the pandemic and what it has caused.

Recently, I lost my job. Such things are difficult enough to get at the moment with almost no jobs available. For me, a teacher, it is proving impossible. With the uncertainty plaguing the world, people are clinging on to what they have, and I don't blame them, I certainly did.

Unfortunately for myself, the school I taught at is not funded by the government and relies solely on charitable donations to function. Since the pandemic has hit, funding has barely trickled in and I have been let go because of it.

To put it simply, I find myself in a terrible position. I am a proud man, and proud of what I have achieved. Everything I have, I've worked hard for and made sacrifices to have and right now, I am broken. I feel as though everything I've done has been for naught.

As a proud man, I feel ashamed and it pains me that I have to reach out for help. Were it only myself I had to think of, I doubt I'd be able to consider it, but as man, it is important when to recognise that you need help and I am in need of it. As I write this, I am thinking of those that rely on me for support, to keep them fed and a roof over their heads. As a man, it shames me that I find myself in this position but anyone from my country will know that our government is terrible at helping those in need.

Because of all this, I have set up a go fund me page in the hope that my lack of faith in humanity is proved to be wrong, that there are people willing to help those that need.

I apologise for my rant. I am emotional and struggling, but with the hope that it will all get better.

Details of my go fund me will be on my page.

Thank you, and again, I apologise if I am making little sense.

Link to page minus the spaces: uk. go fund me /f/6huff2-help-keep-me-afloat

page can also be found by searching for my name on the website by searching for my name 'Lee McCusker'. The profile pic is of a thestral and my location is Norwich, Eng.

TBR