Disclaimer: Still not making money from this.

AN: Nearly 16k words! Enjoy!

The melodic ticking of the large grandfather clock rang out in the background, keeping him fairly relaxed as he sipped his tea in the dim morning glow.

He shut his eyes, letting out a content sigh as the rising sun found its way through the arched windows of Grimmauld Place's surprisingly understated study.

Harry had always enjoyed these moments - the hour or so in the morning where he was awake but the day hadn't begun; giving him a sense of internal peace in his otherwise chaotic life.

Hearing the creak of footsteps, he sighed, the moment ruined as he abandoned his half-drank tea to greet whichever of his guests had risen first.

"Happy Birthday!" A soft voice said as he stepped into the hallway adjacent to the kitchen.

Turning towards the familiar voice, Daphne's lips met his before he could respond.

"Thanks, Daphne."

She was dressed in a simple, pale pink morning robe, her messy, straw blonde bangs obscuring her sad green eyes.

She had yet to return home in the month since her family had been murdered, not that he could blame her.

A lack of places to go had initially fueled his own decision to stay at Grimmauld Place after the death of Sirius, however as time had gone on he had found a troublesome peace in the home that provided a variety of memories – both good and bad – of his life with Sirius.

'At least she's speaking to Healer Ogletree.'

An improvement, and a decision she had had to come to herself.

Truth-be-told he was dreading the day he would have to accompany her home to face her own demons. Unsure of what to expect when Daphne was ultimately confronted with the memory of that horrific day.

Pushing the unpleasant thoughts from his mind he offered her a smile before calling for Kreacher.

"Breakfast for two, please." He said, forcing kindness into his voice, hoping to remain civil towards the Black family's unpleasant elf.

"Make that four." A groggy new voice called out from the kitchen doorway. "And one hangover cure."

Turning around, he smiled at the disheveled look of Tonks, her purple hair containing specks of something in it as she failed to maintain her dignity.

"It's bad form to drink more than the birthday boy, Tonks." A smiling Septima offered from beside her.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" His professor followed up with a pretty smile, giving him a warm hug.

"The birthday boy didn't drink." Tonks replied with a whimper, downing the foul looking potion handed to her by Kreacher in one go.

"Then neither should you." Septima chortled with a smile, causing Tonks to roll her eyes as she fixed her appearance.

"That's no fun!" Tonks retorted, offering him her own brief hug. "Happy birthday, by the way."

The quartette had spent the previous evening in quiet celebration, playing games while Tonks slowly got drunk off firewhisky.

The conversation turned to lighter topics as they ate before falling into a comfortable silence.

"Tonks." Daphne started, causing the purple-haired witch to choke on a half-eaten sausage.

Composing herself with a frown, the duelist turned towards his still haggard looking girlfriend.

"Do you have time to duel with me today?"

Tonks gave him an imperceptible glance causing him to give her a slight nod in affirmation.

"I'm free all afternoon."

Since the tragedy Daphne had thrown herself into her training with Tonks.

"My time's not free, Harry! I empathize with her situation, but I have bills to pay."

He had scoffed - it wasn't as though Tonks didn't have the money – but he readily met her demands on the condition that she didn't tell Daphne.

"I'm training with Dumbledore this afternoon, so it should work out nicely." He finished with a frown.

While the headmaster, and even Snape, would concede his improvement; he had been unable to land a spell on the elusive old man.

'At least I've been able to fight back.'

Three days a week they would face off on the small island in the North Sea, the headmaster hurling spells his way while he ran for his life, wondering who was benefiting more from the activity as Dumbledore unleashed his own frustration on him.

The disparity in talent had forced him to research more advanced defense options, which he in turn tested on his other tutors.

Snape had been the victim of his first breakthrough when Harry had redirected a blood boiling curse back towards the unsuspecting potions master, causing the man to howl in pain.

Redirecting spells was the natural evolution of deflection; requiring a greater daring and an impeccable control of one's own magic as he attempts to wrestle control of a spell from its caster.

The problem with attempting to redirect Dumbledore's spells, he noticed, was that the older man was stronger in his magic than Harry was in his, making it impossible to bend the man's spells to his will.

While the skill had proved useless against someone of Dumbledore's stature, it had continued to work wonders for him in his training with Snape, Moody, and Tonks.

"How much do you charge for these lessons, Tonks? My wand work is getting rusty." Septima butted in from beside her.

'So much for not telling Daphne.'

Tonks frowned before glancing at him, causing Harry to sigh.

"One hundred galleons a session." He replied in resignation.

He swore he saw a momentary smirk pass across Septima's face as she caught sight of Daphne's frown.

"A little too rich for my blood." Septima added with a small amount of despair, her smirk gone as soon as it had appeared.

"I didn't know that." Daphne replied, a false smile on her lips. "I'll have to make a trip to Gringotts then." She finished, shooting a glare his way.

He let out a sigh as he nervously ran a hand through his messy black hair. "I have to make a trip there this week anyways, we can go together."

Daphne gave him a terse nod.

"I can accompany the two of you, if you'd like?" Septima added, a sense of interest in her voice.

'We don't need a chaperone, haven't we proven that much?'

"No need, Septima." He added before turning to Tonks with a smile, missing the other woman's frustrated look. "As long as Tonks can wait a few days for her payment?"

The aforementioned woman frowned but accepted his offer. "As long as I get paid by the end of the week."

His body tingled in pleasure as the wards recognized his presence, presenting him with a wide gravel path and a well-manicured lawn, directing his gaze towards the large stone home in front of him.

Voldemort paused a moment, removing a small vial from his waist, he downed the contents in one.

The pepper up potion combined with the spike in energy he had received passing through the wards provided him with the stamina he needed to complete his relatively simple mission.

He paused to take in the rather large property, resisting the urge to pay a visit to the thestrals the Nott family kept in the stables.

'After, perhaps.'

The Nott's wealth was surpassed only by the Malfoy's, and much like their old friends, the Nott's enjoyed displaying it for all to see.

"Octavius has been feeding Potter information through his son."

The words had infuriated him before leaving him exhausted and craving confirmation.

Quietly stepping into the foyer, Voldemort quickly flicked his wrist, freezing the various portraits in their frames, preventing them from alerting his target.

Making his way up the grand staircase and to the Master wing, the dark lord easily discovered the man sleeping in his bed.

Resisting the urge to kill him outright, Voldemort stunned and bound the man, levitating him down the hall and out of the master's suite, back towards the heir's rooms.

Mimicking his actions a second time on the man's son, Voldemort repeated his actions a third time on Cantankerous Nott before escorting the three into the family study.

Voldemort paused, considering his next moves carefully. In his burst of rage he hadn't considered how he could best utilize the situation he now found himself in.

Coming to a decision, a cold smirk came over his face as he unfroze the Minister of Magic.

The man's eyes came to life with a sense of confusion before settling in to a look of terror as he recognized his situation.

The filth's terrified look gave Voldemort a third jolt of energy, supplementing the waning effects of his pepper up potion nicely.

The look didn't last, as resignation replaced Octavius's terror.

Deciding to skip the formalities, Voldemort let his fingernails dig deep into the man's forearms, causing Octavius to wince in pain as he looked the man in the eyes.

"Why, Octavius?"

He didn't feel the need to elaborate, Octavius knew his crime.

Voldemort was curious; the elder Theodore Nott had been one of Tom Riddle's first friends; for the man's son to betray him had enraged him.

For a moment the man appeared defiant before thinking better of it.

"Power, my lord." He said respectfully, resignation in his voice. Octavius Nott knew he was going to die.

He nodded solemnly, 'Bellatrix had been right.' He should have eliminated the traitor months ago.

Tearing into the man's mind with reckless abandon, Voldemort sought information regarding Octavius's betrayal.

He dug for several moments before a particular conversation caused him to pause.

"Three weeks before my father's death, Octavius. You were working in customs with Bellatrix. Do you remember the Dark Lord placing an order for a dragon's lung?"

He watched the memory play out with interest, removing himself from the man's mind at the memories conclusion.

'Lucius knows.' He thought to himself before quickly adding; 'Lucius may know.' It could be a coincidence.

Either way the news was disconcerting, he didn't need his two generals at each other's throats over such a trivial matter.

Diving back in, he felt Octavius's mind try and direct him towards a particular memory.

'Why not.' He thought, following the man's direction on a whim.

He recognized the chandelier from the Nott study immediately.

"What have you done?" Octavius Nott's voice quivered slightly as he addressed his son.

The boy stared back at his father with a detached defiance.

"What's best for our family?"

Octavius roared in anger, his wand in his hand immediately as he shot a curse at his only child.

The boy calmly stepped aside as Octavius regained control of his emotions.

"You let them murder members of the Wizengamot, Theodore! Those weren't a bunch of mudbloods and blood traitors! My administration depends on their support!"

His son shrugged with the same sense of detachment.

"You let your lust for power cloud your judgement, father. Potter was never going to back you in the long run, the Dark Lord will."

The memory ended and Voldemort was in the family study once more.

'What's that about Phoenixes?' He thought, trying to remember what Horace Slughorn had recited all those years ago. 'Something good always comes from the ash?'

With a flick he froze Octavius once more.

Another flick unfroze the child.

He watched with mild interest as the boy regained his senses, trembling in fear only slightly when he recognized his predicament.

He was both intrigued by the boy's lack of fear, and disappointed that he wouldn't reap the benefits.

"Interesting." He found himself saying.

The fifth-year-to-be ignored his pale, handsome features choosing to stare him directly in his red eyes instead.

'Very interesting.'

"My Lord?" The boy asked respectfully, still bound in front of him.

"Do you know why I'm here, child?"

His voice was barely above a whisper but kept the boys attention all the same.

Now free from his shackles, Theodore glanced around the room, first at his father, then at his uncle.

"I could guess, my lord."

He motioned for him to continue.

"I doubt that you appreciated my fathers continued betrayal."

Voldemort nodded. "I didn't appreciate your betrayal either."

When the patriarch of a family vowed fealty to a lord, he spoke for the entire family.

The first cracks in the boys mask began to show as he answered.

"As the heir of House Nott, I was duty bound to act as my lord saw fit."

The answer was robotic and well-rehearsed. A common defense among heirs who had a hand in their father's crimes, and one that had been historically accepted.

The defense had simultaneously allowed families to survive without fear of losing their familial wealth for individual crimes, while providing dark lords who preyed on humanities darker instincts more willing followers.

"What changed?"

If he was right, Voldemort wouldn't have to worry about retribution from the Nott family.

"His wishes went against the best wishes of the family."

Tom Riddle let out a charming, dangerous smile.

"What would those wishes be, Lord Nott."

A look of greed and understanding passed through the boy, confirming Voldemort's hopes.

"To remain on the right side of history."

Quickly Voldemort conjured two identical daggers before turning on the child.

"Did you know your grandfather died fighting by my side?" He said conversationally, letting his fingers caress the sharp blade of one of the daggers.

"I've been told my grandfather Theodore was a great man." The boy responded.

Voldemort smiled, eyeing the Theodore again.

"Have you ever killed a man, Theodore?" His tone was conversational, as if discussing Quidditch scores or the weather.

The boy shook his head slightly, doing his best to hide his fear from him.

It was the anticipation, not the fear that fueled his fourth burst of energy.

"I was twelve when I made my first kills." He let out a dark chuckle as he recalled those filthy muggles falling to their deaths.

"There's nothing quite like it, watch."

He unfroze Cantankerous, showing restraint as he let the man get a hold of himself as his own anticipation began to build.

Cantankerous Nott was a cranky old coward who had been too scared to support him outright, his death would be of no consequence.

Grasping the dagger lightly he turned to Theodore once more.

There was a mixture of fear and excitement in the boy's body language.

'Normal enough.'

"Pay attention boy!" He snapped. "It's not as easy as it looks, to stab a man to death."

Handing the boy a dagger, Voldemort continued his instruction.

"Grip it tightly in your dominant hand."

The boy nodded in understanding, mimicking his own actions.

Voldemort tore the shirt off of Cantankerous Nott, exposing his wrinkled figure to the dim light.

"When stabbing a man through the heart, it is important that you avoid the breast plate that protects the heart, or else you could find yourself tired and frustrated." He said, slowly going through the motions of stabbing the child's great uncle through the heart.

Theodore was watching with a sense of fear and anticipation, driving Voldemort's own energy.

"Now watch." He said as he quickly plunged the dagger deep under the man's breast and through his heart, causing his former classmate to let out a final gasp as he pissed himself and died.

The resulting jolt of energy he felt had him feeling alive once more as a small pool of blood began to trickle down the dead man's chest.

"You don't want to remove the dagger unless you want to make a statement." He continued his lecture as his pupil observed in a state of horrified fascination.

"It's your turn." Voldemort said, unfreezing Octavius once more.

The Minister of Magic's eyes darted around the room, glancing from the body of Cantankerous, to himself, to his son.

Voldemort watched, letting his anticipation build once more as he watched the man's son stare at him with confliction.

"I don't have all night, boy. Kill him or you both die."

He had found that when killing for the first time, people liked having a justification to their actions, it made them feel as though they didn't have a choice in the matter.

Octavius nodded in resolution at his only son, seemingly giving him permission to end his life.

Theodore's arm trembled slightly before the boy calmed himself and mimicked Voldemort's own actions from a moment prior.

He felt another jolt of energy as he watched the life extinguish from his betrayers eyes.

The killer glanced at his father dispassionately once more before finding Voldemort's gaze.

"What now?" The boy got out, only the slightest hint of a tremble in his voice.

He offered the boy a charming smile before raising his wand.

"Morsmordre!"

The dark mark blasted through the roof of the manor, giving them an unobstructed view of the snake and skull dancing in the night sky.

Hesitantly, Theodore made to join him before Voldemort stopped him with a smile.

"Not yet, Theodore." He chided, turning to the body of the boy's father. "I want to make a statement."

He felt the boy shiver as he turned towards his dead father.

Finding the task to be more difficult than he thought, the child's face turned victorious as blood sprayed the area as Theodore successfully removed the dagger from his father's chest.

The boy made to move towards him once more before Voldemort moved to stop him again.

'I'll have to visit the thestrals another time.' He thought with a frown, regretting how impulsive he had been with his mark.

"Tell me, Theodore. Do you know how to make an inferi?"

She observed her opponent silently from the shadows.

Tonks took aim and fired off a bone breaker.

Daphne moved to dodge, but was a hair too slow as the curse passed harmlessly through the illusion.

'She won't be wrong next time.'

Taking a deep breath, the blonde-haired prefect took aim before seamlessly transitioning into a brutal combination of cursed fireballs, bonebreakers, and organ exploding curses.

Caught by surprise, her tutor took the first bonebreaker in the left clavicle, letting out a muffled howl as the fierce woman batted away an organ exploding curse before redirecting several fireballs her way.

"You're getting better at predicting my movements!" Tonks shouted with glee.

She pirouetted gracefully to the side, conjuring a handful of badgers as she did so.

Daphne smirked victoriously at the surprised look on Tonks face at her use of conjuration.

'Thank you, Harry.' She added silently, chancing a glance at her boyfriend who was observing off to the side.

With his help she had been able to incorporate conjuration into her practice duels with him in preparation for this moment.

Harry looked tired with a sad look in his eyes as he observed from behind the protective wards; a result of another session with Healer Ogletree, no doubt.

Tonks's surprised look lasted only a second as she slaughtered the little beasts before twirling her wand in a familiar pattern.

Taking a page from Harry's book, Tonks never lost focus as dozens of marbles began to orbit around her rapidly.

'Ice cream always cheers him up.'

He always found a way to cheer her up after meetings with the strangely intimidating healer, the least she could do is buy him ice cream after their trip to Gringotts.

Tonks hurled a dozen or so marbles her way, forcing her to conjure a brick wall.

The wall only held for a couple of seconds before being reduced to a pile of rubble.

Rolling forward, Daphne shot several spells towards the shield intent on turning the little balls of glass against her tutor to no avail.

In response Tonks sent the rest of the projectiles at her.

As her shields crumbled Daphne felt the tiny orbs make impact, ripping through her dueling robes with ease.

"I could make those little bastards break skin, you know?" Tonks added as she cancelled the spell, ending the duel just as the horn sounded, officially ending their session.

"I know." Daphne replied, determined to find an effective counter for the strategy.

They met in the middle of the room, both women covered in sweat, one with a smile on her face, the other a disappointed grin.

"You're getting much better, Daphne." The older woman added encouragingly.

Behind Tonks, Harry nodded his head in agreement causing her to smile brightly.

"She's right." Harry greeted her, his enthusiasm strained from his session with Ogletree. "You're counters are much more effective."

His praise caused her to blush.

"You two lovebirds are going to pay me today, right?" Tonks butted in, ruining the moment.

Daphne frowned - the fact that Harry had been paying for her lessons had annoyed her, but hadn't been worth the fight.

"Gringotts is our first stop." Daphne replied with confidence, seemingly placating the annoying woman.

She had always found Gringotts to be an eerie place.

Between the armed goblins every couple of meters communicating with each other through a series of grunts and indecipherable words, to the white-grey marble and the silent patrons like her waiting nervously to be served.

Nothing seemed to cut through the banks tense environment.

As a child her mom used to tell her and Astoria that if they remained still than the goblins wouldn't be able to see her.

She and Astoria would draw amused looks as they stood off near the large entranceway, neither moving a muscle nor making a sound while her parents conducted their business at the bank.

"Here you are, Lady Greengrass." The goblin barked impatiently, shoving a dossier and a purse of coins into her hands before pushing her aside.

A few meters behind her Harry stood engrossed in his own dossier.

Standing next to him in silence, Daphne browsed through the assets currently listed in her family vault.

There was nothing out of the ordinary, an amount of money with minimal deposits and withdrawals over the last decade or so.

The amount that her father had kept in their family vault, however, had surprised her. She had been under the impression that her family had been investing more of their assets.

'I'll have to talk to our financial advisors.'

"That's interesting." Harry stated from next to her, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Hmm?" She hummed, hoping she conveyed her point.

"The original blueprints to Potter Manor are listed in the inventory."

That piqued her interest. Voldemort had burned down Potter Manor during the first war, leaving a supposedly beautiful piece of land vacant.

"Are you going to rebuild?" She asked as her own attention was drawn to a deposit made by her father from the previous October.

'42 crystal vials.'

Ophelia's memories. In all the commotion she had forgotten to ask her father why he had had them moved to their vault.

"Eventually." He answered ambiguously.

"Harry?" She asked, drawing his attention to her.

For a second she didn't push further, taking a moment to take her boyfriend in for seemingly the first time in ages.

'Training has done wonders for him.'

"Would you mind if I stored Ophelia's memories at Grimmauld Place?"

Harry frowned slightly.

"Why don't we return them to your house?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Harry had been pressing her to return home for weeks.

It wasn't as though she hadn't wanted to return home, she just wasn't sure she was capable.

Shaking her head she replied; "my dad had them moved from our house for a reason."

He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment.

"That's fine, as long as I have access to them as well."

She nodded sharply. They had no secrets.

Leaving the bank, Daphne dragged Harry through the crowds of Diagon Alley and towards Fortescue's, chatting idly along the way.

"…the broom races in Paris next weekend, maybe we should go? It would be nice to get away from London for a weekend."

Harry ignored her question, his eyes focused on the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

"Is that Crabbe and Goyle?" He said, pointing to a pair of bulky boys glancing around dumbly.

At that moment two other men approached the pair.

'Marcus Flint.'

She found herself fingering her wand as the known Death Eater and another man approached her classmates.

"That man, with Flint. Do you recognize him?"

Her gaze shifted to the fourth man; tall and lanky with shoulder length black hair, he appeared to be directing the other three into the alley.

"Let's follow them." She found herself saying.

To her surprise, Harry seemed to hesitate briefly before casting a disillusionment charm on the both of them and taking the lead.

"Let's go."

Grabbing her by the hand, Harry led her through Knockturn Alley, weaving in and out of the crowd, never letting the quartette in front of them too far out of sight.

The Death Eater's stopped at a corner to talk for a few seconds before entering a dingy pub.

"Stay here!" He whispered, leaving her invisible on the corner.

She watched intently as a shimmering mass entered the pub, disappearing from view, only to feel a tug on her robes a half a minute later.

"Come on!" Harry's outline whispered once more as he grabbed her arm and led her back through the crowded alley.

She felt the cool sensation of her disillusionment charm disappear as she and Harry became visible once more.

"What happened?" She asked as they kept pace with the masses.

"They disappeared." He said irritably. "But not before I placed a tracking charm on Crabbe.

His ingenuity caused her to grin. 'Do I even know any tracking charms?'

As they approached Fortescue's she let the subject die, turning to face him as she grabbed his hands and dragged him sight-unseen towards the ice cream parlor.

"Come on." She said, fluttering her eyes softly, the idea of her buying him ice cream seemingly forgotten. "I'll let you buy me a cone."

The glare off the silver teapot caused him to snarl in annoyance as Lucius's elf escorted the pair through the garden and to the gazebo where they would be safe to talk.

Why Lucius couldn't use his office inside the manor, Severus would never know.

"Which other fifth year did you name as prefect, Severus?" His friend asked politely, preferring to make small talk before getting down to business.

"Lady Greengrass." He replied evenly.

Lucius winced. It was no secret that Lady Greengrass suspected Lord Malfoy of poisoning her family.

"A perfectly reasonable choice. I've heard good things about her."

Somehow he doubted the older man had heard good things about the girl. Terrifying, perhaps. The girl was becoming more and more like the woman she hated by the day.

"She is rather brilliant."

The two fell silent as they drank their tea, causing him to stir in impatience.

"You don't think I killed them, do you?"

Although he appeared casual, Severus could see the slight tension that was beginning to form on the other man's face.

The truth was Lucius wasn't sadistic enough to pull off such a gruesome crime.

"No Lucius, I do not."

The tension on Lucius's face melted away at his proclamation and the man graced Severus with a rare smile.

"That means a lot to me, Severus."

They fell silence once more, and although they were covered by the gazebo, Severus found himself growing hot and increasingly impatient.

"Is there something you wished to tell me, Lucius?"

The blonde haired man set his tea down gently.

"Yes, there is."

The aristocrat took an agonizingly slow sip of tea before deciding to continue.

Even when eager to gloat, Lucius had to make him ask.

"Well, what is it?" He asked irritably. He had never been one for the aristocrat's petty little games.

"Bellatrix's spy."

Severus found himself leaning into Lucius's words, the other man clearly delighting in knowing something he did not.

Albus had spent months speculating on the identity of the elusive spy. Severus himself had postulated that it wasn't a single spy responsible for Flitwick, McGonagall, and Miss Moon's deaths, but separate culprits.

Neither he nor the Headmaster were any closer to solving that particular mystery.

"I've had the rat spend his time tailing Bellatrix."

He was hardly surprised. Lucius had long suspected that Bellatrix had murdered his father, it would only make sense that he was having her followed.

"Where he overheard Bellatrix having an intimate conversation with Septima Vector."

He kept his face clear of emotion, only somewhat surprised by the revelation. Septima, after all, had gained the most from the deaths of Flitwick and McGonagall.

A small detail from the latest Order meeting spurred a thought in his mind.

"Do you think she was responsible for murdering the Greengrass family?"

"Yes." Lucius replied without hesitation. "Ten minutes before they were poisoned I tried to warn Alfred about Septima, but he insisted we speak after the party."

"I saw Lucius talking to Alfred minutes before his murder."

'What do I do?'

The identity of such a valuable spy was the perfect bargaining chip.

"What do you expect me to do with this piece of information, Lucius?"

The other man paused, looking at him purposefully.

"I don't care what you do with the information, Severus." He said slowly. "We're just talking."

As the conversation switched subjects a million thoughts raced through his mind before he came to a realization.

'Lucius Malfoy just betrayed the Dark Lord.'

Not directly, of course. But it was an open secret that the headmaster and the dark lord used him to funnel information to the opposition. By disclosing the name of the dark lord's most effective spy while giving him carte blanche to do with that information as he pleased, Lucius had signed his own death warrant.

He found his annoyance over the sun dissipate as he listened to Malfoy's gripes while he tried to figure out the best way to use his new found information.

Tonks limped towards him, a scowl marring her diamond shaped face.

Snickering to himself, Bill put on an inquisitive look; "how was your session with Harry?" He asked innocently.

He hadn't believed her when she begrudgingly admitted that the fifteen year old was a better fighter than she was.

"His speed, brutality, and daring make it difficult to counter."

Bill had laughed. Then he saw the memories from the Wizengamot and it all made sense. The way he commanded his magic, his precise movements, and his relentless attacking ability.

The Order needed warriors, even if they were only fifteen.

"Fuck off, Bill!" She roared, her hair cycling through colors as she punched his shoulder while storming by.

'That answers that.'

"It's unnatural - Bill."

The curse breaker let her rant, knowing better than to risk her ire by interrupting.

"A kid shouldn't be that good..."

'Maybe you should only train Daphne?'

"He is training with Dumbledore, Snape, and Moody as well, Nym." He said gently.

Her attitude seemed to be synced with his tone as she deflated.

"I know." She said softly, closing the gap between them. "But it's not supposed to be this way."

She wrapped her arms around his neck before leaning in for a soft kiss.

"Did you pass along the highlights?"

Harry had missed the previous Order meeting and Bill had hoped that Tonks would share the important stuff.

She waved him off. "He has Moody this afternoon. The old bastard can catch him up."

Separating himself from her, Bill let out a frustrated groan.

"He and Daphne have been spending their time wandering Diagon and Whisper Alley's, and occasionally slipping into Knockturn. If they stumble upon the 'Randy Unicorn' before we're ready to move -"

Tonks gave him a dismissive wave. "He's trying to get her mind off what happened to her family, not burn down a bar."

"They're powerful teenagers, Tonks. They think they can take on the world. They aren't exactly rational."

Tonks dismissed his concerns with a shrug. "Then you tell them."

How could she brush this off? The pair were exceptionally bright, and the bar wasn't that inconspicuous, all it would take was them seeing one suspicious face enter that bar and all bets were off.

"He would take it more seriously coming from you." He chided.

Her newly minted calm demeanor disappeared in an instant.

"What would you have me do, Bill? Go up to the most powerful teenager in Britain - an impulsive hothead who is known to kill people when angered - and spoon-feed him a target?"

'If his allies don't think they can keep him in check, then who can?'

"No, I guess you can't."

Tonks deflated slightly.

"They aren't bad kids, they aren't looking for a fight."

He found Tonks's bi-polar attitude towards her surrogate brother endearing, alternating between complaining about him and standing up for him in the same conversation.

"We don't need to worry about them."

He sighed.

"I know that. But they are still kids, kids who think they're invincible."

She let out a hollow laugh.

"For all we know, Harry might be."

The room smelled of decay. That fact in and of itself had very little effect on him – rooms had their own looks and smells, most people wouldn't give it another thought – what did hold meaning was his reaction.

Absent was the tinge of annoyance he generally felt in the back of his mind at such issues. That familiar annoyance then turning into anger, that anger settling into a comfortable rage.

Instead he felt… nothing. If he hadn't known that the smell should annoy him, he never would have associated any reaction to the smell at all.

That lack of reaction was out of character for both Voldemort and Tom Riddle. He had never been a man to let such trivialities pass without acknowledgement.

Except apparently he was.

Across from him Marcel eyed him with interest as he sipped his brandy.

"You're still having issues then?"

Although phrased as a question, the French necromancer's words were more of a statement.

He felt his lips form into an uncharacteristic smile.

"I am." Voldemort replied, the pleasant tone sounding foreign to his ears.

Across from him the long-haired Frenchman grinned, exposing a set of graying teeth and a crooked smile.

"How, interesting." With that the necromancer began humming a morbid tune, waving his wand intricately as he checked his soul.

Voldemort found himself raising an amused eyebrow at the man.

'What the hell is wrong with me?'

Horace Slughorn may have described horcruxes to him midway through his fifth year, but it wasn't till that summer when a young Tom Riddle first heard of an ambitious French necromancer who was obsessed with death, that he had made his first personal breakthrough on the subject.

For a price the necromancer had overseen the creation of his diary.

He had known the risks - the soul was fragile, and fracturing it, he had been told, could have consequences.

Having no proof to offer in support of his theory, Tom Riddle proceeded with the ritual and went on his way.

He returned three years later with a sense of paranoia, stemming from his increasingly violent rebellion, desiring more capsules to protect his soul.

This time it was interest, not gold, that drove the necromancer to assist him in his growing obsession.

It took him years to discover the full effects that the items were having on him, culminating in his unstable soul detaching from his body when he attacked the Potters.

"Of course we knew this was always a possibility, didn't we?" DuPont offered with a slight chuckle, seemingly finding a touch of humor in his situation.

The man's amusement unleashed a tidal wave of anger deep within him, in under a second his ebony and phoenix feather wand was in his hand and pointed at the other man, leaving DuPont screaming in agony on the ground.

"You find Lord Voldemort's predicament humorous, Marcel?" He hissed, slipping into parseltongue towards the end as he let up on the Cruciatus Curse.

"No… no my lord." The other man got out, his body convulsing intermittently on the floor before him, a result of the nerve damage.

'He has gotten weak with age.'

"A-all I meant, my lord, is that your soul has gone through a great deal of turmoil; who knows what kind of effect re-unification may have."

Marcel had won grudging respect among the International Confederation of Wizards for his research into soul magic, without him the subject would remain a mystery.

Many academics yearned for more knowledge on the subject, outside of Marcel DuPont few were willing to take on the stigma associated with such a taboo subject.

"My lord I believe the symptoms will clear up should you choose to reunify your soul."

He had checked the man's arithmancy himself, coming to a similar conclusion yet choosing to ignore the advice in his quest for power.

A mistake that had cost him over a decade.

Voldemort paced the room quietly for several minutes while the shivering wizard recovered from his bought of anger.

"Many years ago you urged me to get rid of my horcruxes in order to restore balance." He said, pacing the room.

"Do you still believe that to be true?"

Marcel's eyes darted around the room franticly, betraying his answer before it could leave his lips.

He felt his anger spike momentarily before his energy crashed seconds later, leaving him dizzy and exhausted.

Abandoning his plans for retribution against the French wizard, Voldemort composed himself, eager to return home.

"You have lost several horcruxes since then." Marcel said in a frightful whisper. "I'm afraid you'll never be the same."

He walked casually down the weathered wooden stairs leading to the small muggle village that stood several hundred meters west of Sergei's property, enjoying the slight breeze and warm summer air.

'Eggs

Butter

Cheese

Meat

Cream'

He repeated the grocery list in his head several times until the list was firmly ingrained in his memory.

'He could have sent the elf, Terry. He's trusting you.' The thought that Sergei felt he could trust him pleased Terry.

How he was going to acquire the items, however, was anybody's guess; Sergei hadn't provided him with any money.

Reaching the wrought iron gate, Terry reached out a timid hand, lightly pressing his index finger to the lock.

A relieved look came across his face when he wasn't shocked, and with quite a bit more confidence, he pushed his way through the gate with ease.

'Thank you, Sergei!'

Dressed in standard muggle clothes, Terry made his way across the busy street and to the building with strange stations occupied by horseless carriages.

He wrinkled his face as the surrounding smell burned his nostrils.

'How do muggles live like this?'

The sound of a loud horn brought him back to reality as an angry looking man leaned his head out of his carriage to yell at him.

Picking up his pace, Terry nearly fell back in alarm when the glass window in front of him sprang open, revealing a dimly lit room with several rows of food.

'Is this where the elves get food?'

'Eggs

Butter

Cheese

Meat

Cream'

Terry reminded himself as he quickly gathered the ingredients into his sack.

The man behind the counter eyed him with suspicion as he finished assisting another customer, causing Terry's heart to race.

'Is he the shopkeeper? Am I supposed to pay him?'

Keeping a brisk pace, he walked past the counter and towards the magic window.

"HEY KID!"

He winced at the angry shouting and took off at a jog, hoping the man wouldn't pursue.

"HEY KID GET BACK HERE!"

Terry was running now, the man behind the counter not too far behind.

Using the horseless carriages to obscure himself from view, Terry made his way through the cement lot and back towards where he had come from.

He stepped out onto the pavement, the carriages on the street moving fast as a broom, but he didn't care, Sergei wouldn't appreciate failure.

Ignoring the horns, he made his way across the street and to the wrought iron fence before pushing his way through to safety, the groceries tucked safely in his sack.

'Sergei will be happy.' He thought with a grin.

He was interrupted from his revelry by the alarm on his watch, reminding him of another one of his promises to Sergei.

Reaching into his sack, Terry removed two vials, downing them without a second thought.

The feeling of toes brushing against the bottom of her feet caused Fleur to purr in delight.

"I am going to grab us coffee."

She felt the weight of the bed shift as Septima exited, covering herself with a light robe as she left the room.

'What am I doing here?'

She realized the silliness of the question as soon as it formed in her mind, quickly coming up with a better question.

'What am I getting out of this?'

Boredom and insecurity had led her to be seduced, but why was she staying? She had nothing to gain from this.

"I'm going to have to leave soon." Septima said apologetically as she handed her a to-go cup of coffee.

"My duties as Headmistress have drastically reduced the amount of free time I have during the summer."

Septima's faux humility answered her question instantly, reminding her exactly why Fleur was in bed with a woman eleven years her senior on a Tuesday in August.

'What is Septima getting out of this?' That was the real question.

It wasn't possible that Septima could still be using her to fill the void left by Sirius, could it?

Of course not, maybe at first but not anymore, not nearly nine months later.

'She's ambitious, my family has connections on the continent…'

After the honeymoon period had ended, that had been her original assumption.

However the entirety of that line of thought no longer rang true - she had been working directly for one of father's direct partners for months and Septima had only shown cursory interest in her work, rarely asking follow up questions.

The same could be said for Septima's interest in her family. While not directly involved with the Ministry, the Delacour family held more power in the private sector than any other family in France.

'If not that, then what?'

The only truth to her original assumption was that Septima was ambitious, working her way up to the post of Deputy Headmistress before she was thirty was one hell of an accomplishment.

Gabrielle had quipped that not even Dumbledore had accomplished such a feat.

When Fleur had brought it up to Septima, she gave her a proud smirk and made a joke.

"Assuming Albus doesn't live forever, I'll be the youngest head Hogwarts has ever had - male or female."

"You don't think he'll retire?"

"No." Septima had replied. "If Albus had planned to retire, he would have done so by now."

But why was she interested in her? There was no way Fleur could help Septima's career.

"Quite the opposite, actually." The logical voice of her father whispered in her ear.

She smiled back at the beautiful brunette as they sipped coffee on the side of her bed.

"What do they have you doing now?"

Septima was always busy with work, even during the summer. She wondered if it was the same at Beauxbatons.

"I'll be sending out Hogwarts acceptance letters to all the muggleborn's today." Septima's hazel eyes came alight with passion as she spoke. "Did you know that Harry found out about magic that way?"

The only thing Septima seemed to love more than teaching was talking about her star pupil.

'Is that it? Is she keeping tabs on me because of my relationship with Harry?'

She nearly snorted. That couldn't be it, she had only had a handful of conversations with the young Lord.

She couldn't possibly be keeping Fleur around because Septima found Harry to be that interesting, could she?

'Screw it, let's do an experiment.'

"How was Harry's birthday? I haven't had a chance to speak with him since we had lunch during the London Invitational."

Septima's eyes didn't belie her interest; Fleur hadn't mentioned her lunch date with boy-wonder till now.

"You had lunch with Harry?" Septima answered, leaving the question hanging in the air awkwardly for a second before rushing to fill the void. "That must have been right after the tragedy at the Greengrass party. How was he?"

'It must be my relationship with Harry.'

It was the only conclusion she could draw as the older woman dug for more information on Harry in lieu of answering her question.

But why? She barely knew him, what could she possibly gleam from her interactions with him that she couldn't discover herself?

Standing from the bed Fleur began to get dressed as she answered, still pondering the question.

"He was… renfrogné" She said, unsure of the English equivalent.

A look of pity came across Septima's face. "He's been through so much."

That much was true. From what Fleur had learned on her personal tour of the pubs of Diagon Alley, there was a growing group of people who believed that being associated with Harry was a death curse.

'But he wasn't renfrogné for himself.'

Septima had to know that. Anyone who spent even a small amount of time around those two could see they loved each other. So why would she think that Harry was… sullen for himself?

"He has." Fleur agreed. A smile came over her face as she remembered the conversation.

"During our lunch he told me about the time he and Sirius went to the 'London Invitational' to see Tonks duel a few summers ago."

A peculiar look came over Septima's face as Fleur relayed the details to her, only to disappear so quickly she thought she may have imagined it.

"He was so nervous when he ran into Daphne and Alfred."

Regardless of how Harry and Daphne's story ends, Fleur couldn't help but smile at the storybook moment where boy and girl set aside their passionate rivalry to find something...more.

Life doesn't go that way for real people.

Septima gave her a brilliant smile when she brought up that meeting.

"At the time I was too absorbed in trying to win Sirius's heart." Septima said sadly. "But looking back, it was a beautiful afternoon."

The statement caused Fleurs heart to quicken as she made to quickly change the subject.

"Do you mind if I use your toilet before I leave?"

"Of course." The Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts said. "But try and hurry, I don't want to be late."

Fleur's smile was slightly forced. "I'll be out in a minute."

Shutting the door behind her, Fleur sat on the toilet, replaying her conversation with Harry in her mind.

'He never mentioned that Septima was there that day.'

Why wouldn't he mention her? He had appeared to take solace in giving her an incredibly detailed timeline of his 'first date,' as he had called it, with Daphne

'He mentioned the duelists they had seen, by name, even the ones that hadn't faced his cousin. Why wouldn't he mention that Sirius and Septima were flirting?'

In her limited interactions with him, after she seemed to have earned his trust, Harry had been very forthcoming about his feelings towards both Sirius and Septima. He wouldn't forget that Septima had been there.

Fleur felt a pit begin to form in her stomach as she remembered the other significant thing that may have happened during that years 'London Invitational.'

'Could Septima have been the one to obliviate Sirius?'

She was jumping to conclusions, Fleur knew this. The thought was absurd, Septima loved Sirius. Septima still loved Sirius; if the pictures of the two of them that dotted her townhome were of any indication.

Why would she obliviate Sirius? She was stumped.

Pondering that particular question caused another to form in her head; 'could she have obliviated Harry, as well?'

If done properly, Septima could have erased all trace of her ever having been there from his mind.

'That would mean Septima is the spy Harry is talking about, and she just made her first mistake.'

The thought sounded absurd to her. Septima was smart, funny, beautiful, charming, and a halfblood, what would she have to gain by spying for the dark lord?

'Isn't that what would make her a good spy, though?'

She wanted to discount the idea, but she couldn't - something was off about Septima Vector, maybe this was it.

Quickly she removed her wand from her purse, conjuring a half-dozen fruit flies.

'She would have warded against monitoring charms.' Fleur frowned, tapping her thigh in thought.

'What about recording charms?'

Fleur smiled deviously at her idea. Monitoring charms were malicious, where recording charms were used regularly by scholars as a way to take notes during experiments.

"Is everything okay, Fleur? I need to get going!" Septima's impatient voice rang out through the bathroom.

The quarter-veela quickly charmed four of the fruit flies to spread out among the townhome, while directing the last two to follow their target.

"Coming!" She said, flushing the toilet and exiting the bathroom where Septima greeted her with a mysterious smile.

"What took you so long in their?"

The innocent question only acted to fuel Fleur's paranoia as she fought to keep her expression serene.

"There's a presentation I'm giving at work this morning. I was trying to calm myself."

Septima gave her a grin and a kiss. "I'm sure it will all work out just fine."

'I hope so.'

He dashed up the stairs and towards the library in an uncharacteristic manner the moment Daphne had disappeared into the floo, leaving him alone as she visited the people who managed the Greengrass family assets.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?"

"It's family business, Harry." She had said with a sad smile. "Besides, you hate numbers. Maybe if Terry was around…"

The innocent slip had dimmed both their moods - it had been two months and there had been no sign of his missing friend, nor was there any indication that progress was being made in finding him.

Equally alarming had been how the world had seemed to forget about his friend; Melisa had even, thanks to Minister Bones, begun selling her Wolfsbane Potion to the Ministry to distribute before full moons.

'Not that that's a bad thing.'

The results from the first widespread distribution of the potion had been overwhelmingly positive.

'The world hasn't forgotten Terry.' He reminded himself, thinking back to the bitching he had overheard from Snape before the last Order meeting. 'They've used him as a chapter in his mum's biography.'

"I can't believe Slughorn's named Boot as a finalist." He'd overheard the man griping to the Order's other potions mistress, Marlene McKinnon. "It's not exactly complicated, is it? Horace has always preferred the story to the potion, hasn't he?"

Harry had no doubt that if Terry hadn't been missing, Daphne would be exploring the possibility of moving her assets to the care of Edmund's firm.

As it stood, he assumed the turmoil surrounding the Boot family would make her hesitant to make that move.

'Maybe she'll follow the Zabini's and shift her assets to the continent where it's more stable?'

France was relatively calm, he was sure he could get Daphne a meeting with Gabriel Delacour.

He tabled those thoughts for the time being as the wards surrounding the Black library warmed him, recognizing his magic and granting him access to perhaps the most comprehensive private library in Britain.

It was rare that Harry got an entire day to himself, and he planned on taking full advantage of the opportunity.

'Maybe I'll go flying later?' He thought, his mind drifting back to the brand new 'Nimbus 3000' sitting in his room.

The broom, a birthday gift from the CEO of Nimbus to the last surviving member of the company's founding family, was set to become the official broom of the Wimbourne Wasps that fall, a major coup.

Utilizing the library's cataloguing system, Harry recalled the book on wards he had been reading the week prior.

He had become mildly obsessed recently, trying to decipher the various wards Tom Riddle had laid throughout Hogwarts, determined to spend his fifth year unlocking the Chamber of Secrets.

'What Does an Inconclusive Diagnostic Mean?'

The heading grabbed his attention, pushing forward a nearly forgotten memory from the prior year.

He had encountered one of these, in Tom Riddle's secret room, the wards protecting the book in the hidden drawer.

Harry hadn't bothered testing the wards a second time after Daphne had found him convulsing alone in the room during third year until this past November, when he and Daphne had been fighting.

While his original diagnostic charm had pointed towards a 'Gravi Capitis Dolore,' a small area protection ward ideally used on a doorway or small to moderately sized object, the symptoms he had experienced didn't fit, and he hadn't known why.

Until he ran a more advanced charm last fall.

The results had been indecisive at best, shuffling through a myriad of possibilities.

In a clever move Riddle hadn't modified an existing ward like he had originally thought, choosing instead to cast a camouflage ward, a highly adaptable ward that allowed the caster to choose the wards appearance and effect.

The possibility of flying long forgotten, Harry removed his notebook and began jotting notes on a possible counter for the wards, ecstatic to finally have a breakthrough after nearly two years of research.

A cold wetness shocked his system awake.

A familiar, harsh, loud laughter rang throughout the dark room, reminding him where he was.

'What time is it?'

"Good morning, Terry." Sergei's jovial voice echoed off the walls of his rather comfortable bedroom.

"What time is it?" He asked, his voice trembling slightly. If he had overslept -

Seeming to read his mind Sergei's laugh boomed throughout the room once more.

"You are a jumpy one, aren't you?" He asked rhetorically. "Get up, get up!" The older man clapped, invading his personal space, jolting Terry awake.

He jumped out of bed, ensuring that his movements were quick, but not hurried, never hurried.

Silently he thumbed through his wardrobe, pausing briefly at each robe to gauge Sergei's reaction.

Seeing the Russian nod approvingly at a soft set of dark black robes, Terry grabbed them, quickly getting ready.

Feeling hopeful, Terry made his way to the desk containing his precious wand, wishing that he would have need for it.

A stern nod told him all he needed to know, his spirits deflating.

"What do you need me for, sir?"

A toothy grin from Sergei caused Terry to shutter.

"You're lonely, yes?" Sergei said, draping his arm around him, leading the lanky brunette out of the room, passed the bathroom with the painting of the sword, and to Sergei's secret staircase.

"Y-yes." He said, scolding himself for hesitating.

Sergei said nothing and Terry relaxed once more as they descended the winding staircase.

"You like women. Yes?"

'Is that screaming?'

"Yes." He answered immediately.

At the bottom of the staircase Sergei spun Terry around so they were facing each other, resting both of his hands on his shoulder as he looked Terry in the eyes.

"The Dark Lord is going to kill my wife unless I get a piece of information, Terry." Sergei said calmly pausing briefly to gauge his reaction.

"Terry I asked you here because the girl here is a rather pretty classmate of yours."

'Who's life is the dark lord ruining now?'

"What does he want sir?"

Sergei gave a half smirk. "She's the secret keeper to some location." He said, handing Terry parchment and quill. "The Dark Lord will let the girl and my wife live if we have an answer soon. Will you help me?"

'He's trusting me?' He smiled at the thought of being trusted again. "Of course, sir. Anything I can do to help you."

Sergei gave him a pleased, but worried look. "Be quick, Terry. If you cannot get an answer, I'm afraid I will have to intervene."

Terry gave him a slight nod before grabbing the quill and parchment and heading off towards the noise.

"HELP!"

The feminine voice had a familiar huskiness to it.

"HELP, SOMEBODY!"

'Parvati?'

Smeared makeup covered her pretty face as Parvati Patil sat in a familiar cage near a familiar puddle of water.

His footsteps seemed to catch her attention.

"Terry?" The pretty Indian witch said in confusion. "Terry where am I? What the hell are you doing here?"

Wishing he had the strength to use legilimency, he wondered exactly how he was going to get her to tell him.

"You're at Sergei's." He said with a shrug, his voice, void of emotion, causing her to shutter. "I've been here since - "

How long had he been here?

"A long time." He said lamely. "What day is it?"

"August 28th. You've been missing for nearly three months!"

'Three months?'

All the things he'd missed.

Harry, Marci, his parents…

'Do they even need me?'

"How are my parents?"

For the first time Parvati calmed.

"Worried."

"And Marci?"

A slightly conflicted look crossed the witch's face before settling.

"She's worried as well."

Of course they were worried, why wouldn't they be? He'd been missing for three months.

'You have a mission.'

"Parvati I need to know your secret. It's the only way we get out of this."

A perplexed look crossed the girls face.

"Terry, I can't do that. You have to understand."

He did understand, that was the problem. He understood that if she betrayed whoever she was protecting they were dead.

'But if she doesn't comply.' She'd be left to Sergei's care.

"Parvati I need to know or else Sergei will be the one interrogating you." He couldn't keep the desperation from seeping into his voice as he pleaded for Parvati to quit being so stubborn.

"Terry if I do that my family dies, they already have Padma!"

For the first time the Gryffindor girl broke down in tears.

"Parvati he's going to find out, one way or another." He pleaded once more.

A soft pop from behind him caught Terry's attention.

"Master wants to know if Master Boot is needing help?"

'I'm out of time.' Panic was beginning to set in.

'What do I do?'

He didn't know, but he did know what Sergei would do to the pretty girl.

"No elf." He said with a resigned sigh, pulling Parvati out of the small cage.

And in a moment his hand was around her throat causing his classmate to gag and gasp for air, her body squirming as he pressed her body against the cold stone wall.

"I need to know that secret, Parvati." He said, doing the best to remove the emotion from his voice as he let go of her throat, her body falling to the cold ground.

"Why are you doing this Terry?" She cried. "Please don't do this to me Terry."

"Why are you making me do this to you Parvati?" He shouted back, grabbing the girl by her throat once more as he threw her back up against the hard wall.

Her eyes widened as she struggled for oxygen in his strong grip.

This time Terry gave her a ham fisted punch to the ribs causing her to sputter in his grip.

"Tell me what you know!" He shouted in her face, his voice manic with desperation as he gave her another punch to the ribs.

Tears ran down her face as he let go of her, leaving Parvati to gasp for air on the damp floor.

"Why are you making me do this Parvati? I don't want to do this, but if I don't, Sergei will. You don't want that Parvati. You don't want that at all."

The girl gave him a terrified look as she scooted away from him before climbing to her feet.

'Please don't run Parvati.'

And she was off, and he was in pursuit.

'Please stop Parvati, I'm only trying to help you.'

And he sprung at her, tackling her to the ground.

"Tell me your secret!" He cried, his fist finding flesh.

"Why are you making me do this, Parvati?" Terry cried again, his fist finding the same soft spot once more.

"Terry!" A voice echoed, his fists finding more soft flesh.

"Why are you making me do this, Parvati?" He sobbed, cocking his arm back for another punch.

And like that he was on the floor, restrained by Sergei.

"Terry." Sergei's calm voice said as the man's arms wrapped around him.

'What happened?' He thought before his attention was drawn to a spot on the ground and it all came back.

In front of him was the unconscious mass of Parvati Patil, her face unrecognizable as the elf tended to her injuries on the floor.

"She'll live, sir." The elf said.

'Why did she make me do that?'

"It's on you if she doesn't, elf!" Sergei snapped before placing a comforting arm around his shoulder.

'Why didn't she just tell me her secret?'

"Shhh, Terry. It's okay." He said calmly, slipping a dreamless sleep potion into the boy's palm.

Terry downed it quickly before passing out on the spot, leaving him to himself.

'Tempus.' He thought as he headed deeper into his dungeon. '2:47.'

He frowned at the time.

Entering a slightly smaller room, he eyed the bloodied, naked Indian girl shivering in fear in the corner.

Antonin Dolohov stared at the teenager with want for only a moment before pushing aside his desires.

The Dark Lord did not tolerate tardiness.

They sat motionless under their disillusionment charms on the dark corner across from the "Randy Unicorn," hoping her information would pay off.

"Every Wednesday, around 2:30, a group of men in black robes enter, but don't come out."

After Harry's tracking charms had failed, Daphne had begun to use her family's gold to buy information about death eater activity.

The tip about the late-night rendezvous had come courtesy of Mundungus Fletcher, a street urchin introduced to her by those ginger twats Harry had invested in.

'2:47.' her watch read, and still there had been nothing. No movement near the bar.

'Although there is clearly a party going on in the bar next door.'

"What are we even doing here, Daph?" A tired whisper asked from next to her.

"Reconnaissance." She whispered back, her eyes never leaving the bar.

"What are we going to do if someone is hanging around the pub at this hour? It's not exactly a crime."

That was true; there was no law against being drunk at a pub at quarter till three.

'What are you going to do, Daphne?'

Go in wands blazing, avenging the death of her family?

Several sets of footsteps echoing off the cobblestone road shifted her focus to the alley in front of them.

Three men levitating a petite, naked girl were heading towards the bar.

'Why does she look so familiar?'

"Padma?"

Harry whispered.

'The pretty Indian girl in Ravenclaw. Daughter to Singh Patil, Ambassador to Britain.'

"Is that Dolohov?" He followed up from a few feet in front of her.

As if hearing his name, the man paused at the door momentarily, taking a quick glance around before entering.

"We have to go after her." Daphne found herself saying. "We can't leave her to that monster."

It was a convenient excuse and they both knew it; neither of them particularly cared about the girl – certainly not enough to risk their own lives.

"Revenge won't bring them back." Healer Ogletree's words played back to her in her mind.

'What's that bitch know about revenge?' The greatest obstacle that cow would have to overcome was diabetes.

Without a word they were off, silently closing the distance between the three men holding Patil captive.

'Where's Padma?' The girl was either being obscured or had disappeared.

She shook that thought from her mind as they followed them in to the dirty pub.

Harry grabbed her hand as they followed the three men dressed in black robes passed a half-dozen others also in black robes.

'This is a Death Eater meeting.'

"What do you want to do?" Harry whispered into her ear.

She smiled as the group of Death Eater's slowly began to disappear.

"Let's follow them."

Patiently they waited till there were only two left before silently hitting the final two with identical blasting curses to the head.

She felt nothing as their heads exploded in a show of gore.

She frowned as she glanced down at her blood-covered boots.

'Those were new.'

Seeing Harry grab the bone-white mask attached to his victim before promptly disappearing, she followed suit, appearing a second later in a damp, thick forest.

"This way." Harry directed from next to her, cleaning and adjusting the death eater garb to fit him properly as he grabbed her hand and guided her down a narrow dirt path.

They walked the winding trail in silence, the occasional ruffle of leaves from deep within the forest the only noise as they followed their targets for what seemed like ages before the entire group paused at an ancient weeping willow.

"Where're George and Rudolph?" One of the death eaters asked.

She felt her grip on her wand tighten; 'we've been caught.'

Seemingly appearing out of nowhere, Dolohov shrugged them off.

"The drunks had to finish their drinks. We aren't responsible for them."

Dolohov stepped through the trees giant limbs and nearly out of view before approaching the trees trunk and displaying his left arm.

The tree glowed a faint green as an opening in the tree-trunk appeared, allowing the man and a still unconscious Padma Patil through.

"We need those marks." She said as a second death eater went through the passage before it closed once more.

They waited for several minutes before an opportunity to acquire a mark presented itself.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry whispered from next to her, an emerald green light emitting from his wand, striking his target dead a half-second later.

He repeated the feat once more, killing a second man.

"Thanks." She said, as she approached one of the downed death eaters before severing his left arm.

"No problem." A now visible Harry replied from next to her.

Grabbing the arms they stepped through the willows trunk with confidence.

'Crucio.' Was the last thing she heard before falling to the ground in agony.

The skinny werewolf with greying dirty blonde hair squeezed his way through the raucous pub careful not to spill any of the amber liquid in the two glasses floating just in front of his nose, eager to get back to his morose companion.

"Thank you." The larger woman said as he offered her a drink, downing half the liquid in one go.

Melisa looked worn down and depressed in her dirty pale-pink robes.

It would be easy to think less of the woman for her appearance, however, given the circumstances her mere presence had the opposite effect.

"You're welcome." He said as they fell into an awkward silence.

"If you'd like we can go somewhere a little quieter."

The question was rhetorical and they both knew it - very few places were open at this time of morning, and the "Randy Unicorn" was out of the question, leaving "Howl at the Moon" as the only real option.

"Nonsense." She said, waving him off as she swayed in her seat.

'Did she arrive drunk?' Remus gave her another sniff, this time focusing in on her specific scent.

"It only makes sense to meet here, especially at this time of month."

His nostrils were assaulted by the spicy aroma of firewhiskey.

'She did.' Not that he could blame her - when Sirius had been killed he had nearly drank himself to death; he couldn't imagine having a son go missing.

"Of course."

A werewolf's energy spiked the night before a full moon, this is the best he would feel all month.

Melisa Boot finished her drink with another large sip as her eyes darted to and fro.

"Are you sure Greyback won't be taking us up on our offer? It won't cost his pack anything."

Remus shook his head in certainty; "his pack embraces the wolf, they have already joined Voldemort."

The woman shuttered at the dark lord's name, but pressed forward.

"What about Pickard?"

"He has graciously accepted." Moony stated with a proud smile - getting the leader of the Isles largest pack to accept Wolfsbane from the ministry was an accomplishment he would always treasure.

"Liam has always been more reasonable than Fenrir." Melisa stated with a disappointed sigh.

He was only half paying attention to her response as a pair of familiar scents assaulted his nose.

Standing up quickly, Remus excused himself before making his way to the street.

The scents led him to the entrance of the "Randy Unicorn" just in time to see a pair of shimmers reflect off the moonlight as they entered the bar.

'No. No. No.'

'What the hell are Harry and Daphne doing here?'

A trio of loud noises emitting from the bar caused him to pull his wand out in panic as he stormed in.

He was greeted with silence and an empty pub.

The floor soaked in blood and gore. That was the first thing he noticed as he walked around, his dark brown eyes settling on a pair of mostly naked, decapitated bodies.

Remus felt himself sigh in relief.

'Harry is okay.' Before another thought populated his mind.

'Harry is gone.'

The thought sent him into a panic. If he had gone after the Death Eater's they were in serious trouble.

He had to wake Dumbledore.

Crossing through the trunk of the weeping willow and into a rather large opening surrounded on all sides by a thick forest, Harry immediately found himself under fire.

A toothy snarl came over his face as holly and phoenix feather found itself in his hand, his body instinctively entering a narrow crouch as he squared his stance, redirecting a series of spells back at his attackers.

A kaleidoscope of light seemed to rain down on them from all directions as Harry realized their mistake in running into the situation blind.

'We're fucked.'

They never should have been so impulsive. That thought did little for him as he began returning fire in earnest.

Daphne's scream interrupted his casting as he saw a thick, stream of violent dark red connecting his girlfriend to an unseen foe hiding in the treetops.

'They're everywhere.'

Her screaming stopped a half second later - Daphne's training under duress paying dividends as she set the tree ablaze.

'That's not a bad idea.' He thought as a trio of spells connected with his shield, the third shattering it, and his non-casting shoulder.

Gritting his teeth and ignoring the pain, Harry took aim at a group of trees several meters in front of him.

"Fiendfyre!" He roared.

Around them the spellfire ceased momentarily as the hellish flame devoured the group of trees in front of them, filling the air with the sound of burning logs and dying screams.

The air smelt like charred flesh as he felt the magic of the spell struggle against him, yearning for freedom.

Off in the recesses of his mind he was aware of the sweat pouring down his face as the valley became alight with flame and the air thick with smoke.

He felt the spell buck as it began to break free, spreading out wildly throughout the forest.

'Shit.'

He didn't have time to worry about the cursed flame as Daphne grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the way of a sickly green spell and into the flaming forest.

They were under attack once more, firing spells in all directions as the silhouettes of the two teens danced in the smoke and flame.

In front of him Harry summoned several flaming logs before banishing them at his opponents, sending them to the depths of the great flame sea.

His actions only gave him a brief reprieve before he felt several spells cut into his skin.

He shrugged off the pain, returning his attention to the fight in front of him. Growling huskily before returning fire at those who dared to attack him.

From next to him Daphne was more than holding her own against a pair of unmasked Death Eaters; easily dodging their spells while flinging back her own.

His lungs burned as the flames, running out of things to burn, began to close in.

'We have to get out of here!' He thought, silently casting bubblehead charms on himself and Daphne - who had just dispatched of her opponents.

Grabbing her hand, Harry tried to apparate the two to safety to no avail.

'Fuck.'

The pair darted around the valley, hoping for an escape, only to be met with walls of flame in every direction.

'We're going to die.'

"POTTER!" A thick, slightly accented voice roared.

'Where have I heard that voice before?'

"Come out and face your destiny!"

Then it dawned on him.

'Antonin Dolohov.'

The man had been responsible for sending Sirius to St. Mungo's.

'And there's a broom next to him.'

"DAPHNE!" He shouted, pointing towards the broom.

Next to him Daphne didn't respond, shooting off several blood-boilers.

Harry joined her a second later as the trio exchanged spells.

'Damn he's fast!' He thought as Dolohov deftly dodged both his and Daphne's curses.

The lanky sociopath responded with a pair of killing curses.

Diving out of the way, Harry was prepared to erect a shield for Daphne, only to be hit with a skin shredding curse while distracted.

Daphne conjured a stone shield to absorb the spell as layer upon layer of skin started painfully peeling off of his arm.

'She can take care of herself.' He reminded himself.

Silently throwing up a stone barrier, Harry tended to his shoulder and ended Dolohov's curse.

'Where the hell is Padma?'

A scream caused him to pop out from behind his barrier, the sight erecting a feral smile from him.

Idly he noticed that the flames from his fiendfyre were all-but gone, but that wasn't why he was smiling.

Several meters away, Daphne had Dolohov writhing on the charred forest floor in agony.

"Very impressive. Miss Greengrass."

The new voice caused a chill to reverberate through his body at the familiar sound; Lord Voldemort had arrived.

Her innards were on-fire as she screamed herself hoarse.

"Use occlumency to push as much of the pain to the side, and counter with a spell, any spell. That should break the caster's concentration."

Harry's words reverberated in her mind as Daphne went through the process of overcoming the cruciatus curse, thankful that she had practiced this situation.

Her weak stunner did the trick, surprising her opponent and ending the spell.

'Damn cowards.' She thought as a wicked grin spread across her face.

Only cowards would hide in trees.

"Ignem Aestifer!" She shouted as the flame leapt from her wand, slowly devouring the tree in front of her.

As the Death Eaters who had been hiding in the tree began to jump off of it, desperate to avoid being burned to death, Daphne took aim, hitting two with blasting curses in the neck.

An intense light, and even more intense heat drew her attention towards her boyfriend, who was struggling with a line of fiendfyre.

'Goddammit Harry, are you trying to get us killed?'

While Harry was wrestling his magic for control of his ill-advised decision, she stood, her back to his, deflecting spells coming from behind.

'Fulminus!' She thought as a streak of purple lightning rocketed down from the sky, scorching the earth where several Death Eaters had taken refuge.

A streak of green caused her eyes to widen in horror as she grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him out of the flame-riddled valley and into the hellish flame-riddled forest, her efforts narrowly saving his life.

Next to her, Harry was taking on several opponents, seemingly unaware of the litany of spells that were bursting through his shields.

'We're not going to survive this.' The thought wasn't as horrifying as she thought.

'But neither are they.'

Daphne felt herself becoming light-headed as she choked on the smoke filled air, attempting to fend off her enemies.

As if sensing her agony, Harry hit her with a bubblehead charm, providing her with a steady stream of smoke-less air.

'Why didn't I think of that?' She thought as she batted away a barrage of spells aimed at her by a pair of Death Eaters.

Conjuring a couple of dozen needles, Daphne hurled them at her hapless foes, forcing them to dodge deeper into the sea of flames, screaming in agony as they burned to death.

Harry gave her a look and they were off again, back towards where they came, desperate to find a way out, Harry moved gingerly with a heavy limp and a listless left shoulder as they continued their fruitless search for safety.

'This can't be how it ends.' She, thought, finding her previous acceptance of death had disappeared almost instantaneously. She had so much to do, so much to see.

"POTTER!"

A raspy voice roared through the flames.

"Come out and face your destiny."

"Dolohov." She saw Harry mouth through his bubblehead charm.

The pair spread out, in an attempt to split the man's vision.

'Damn he's fast.' She thought as the trio dueled in earnest.

Even with his attention favoring Harry, she was too slow to hit the slippery Death Eater.

'What the fuck!' She thought, her frustration rising.

Across the valley Harry was also having trouble landing a spell as the man rolled out of the way of another barrage of her boyfriend's barrages.

Getting back to his feet, Daphne had to react on instinct as she conjured a stone wall to intercept the deadly green light.

Next to her she watched in horror as Harry, in an attempt to save her, took an unknown spell to the arm.

Dolohov seemed to be pleased with himself, providing her with the opening she had been looking for.

"Crucio!" She bellowed, hatred dripping from her voice as the violent red spell erupted from her wand and attached itself to Dolohov.

She watched in sadistic satisfaction as the man convulsed in pain while Harry got back to his feet.

"Very impressive. Miss Greengrass."

The unfamiliar voice cut through the dying flames, causing Harry's face to take on a horrified expression before a second, more familiar voice caused him to smirk in satisfaction.

"It's good to see you again, Tom." The familiar voice of her headmaster echoed through the valley as the Dark Lord laughed in delight.

He and the unconscious girl arrived in the dark alley with a soft *pop* to the sound of singing emitting from the beast bar the "Randy Unicorn" shared an alleyway with.

Ignoring the greetings of the two other men in the alleyway, Antonin cancelled the levitation charm holding the ambassadors daughter in the air, dropping her into his waiting arms.

He took a moment to grope the girls developing form before opening his eyes to direct the grunts in front of him.

"You two." He snapped. "Let's go. The dark lord doesn't tolerate tardiness."

While one man responded by walking towards the bar, the second gave him an annoyed look, as if he wanted to say something before thinking better of it.

'Someone's a bit cranky.' He thought with glee, personally delighting in the late-night meetings.

"Our Lord is at his peak in the hours before dawn." Augustus had said.

Levitating the Patil girl once more, Antonin made to enter the bar when a faint voice caught his attention.

"Is that Dolohov?"

'Am I being followed?'

He found it unlikely, he was far too careful to allow that to happen, which meant the bar was being watched, but by who?

'Younger male, under disillusionment.' That's what the voice profile told him.

'Potter?' He smiled to himself as he entered the bar. 'I will be rewarded.'

Dropping the girl into his arms once more, he quickly activated his portkey, arriving at the opening in the woods a half-second later.

Under the guise of disillusionment, he and the unconscious girl waited as Dobbs, Travers, and Higgs all dutifully made their way into the clearing and towards the willow.

'Where are George and Rudolph, I wonder?'

He was answered a half second later when two figures, one male the other female, appeared in ill-fitting robes.

Dolohov watched in interest as Potter, and who he assumed was the remaining Greengrass fitted the robes to themselves before affixing their masks and heading down the path leading towards a familiar willow.

He stalked ahead quietly, doing best to not to make any noise as he stalked the pair, remaining just out of sight.

"Where're George and Rudolph?" Dobbs asked right as he was arriving at the willow.

He shrugged them off.

'I wonder if they'll have the gall to enter?'

"The drunks had to finish their drinks. We aren't responsible for them." He replied cockily.

Making a display of it, Dolohov stepped forward, showing his dark mark clearly to the willow as it let off a faint green glow, granting him access to the valley.

Once inside he waited for Travers to make his way through, pulling him aside.

"Take this." Antonin said, thrusting a portkey and the naked teenager into the blonde man's meaty hands.

"It will take you to our Lord, tell him that Potter and Greengrass have made their way to the valley."

The younger man gave a terse nod, activating the portkey and disappearing without a sound.

'Sonorous.' He thought, taping his throat with his wand, amplifying his voice.

"Attention!" He said, the group of Death Eaters abandoning their conversations and turning to him.

He smiled at the power he was entrusted with by his lord.

"We are about to come under attack by Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass." He said, causing a rumbling of murmurs to erupt from the assembled death eaters.

"Get into position, and attack them when they arrive."

Quickly the death eaters dispersed, disappearing into the trees and behind the tall grass, ready to pounce at a moment's notice.

'Any minute now.' Dolohov thought to himself from his broom high above the tree line.

He watched, impressed despite himself as Potter lit the forest ablaze with fiendfyre.

'Too bad he can't control it.' He thought to himself a second later as the boy dispatched one of the death eaters.

He watched with interest as Greengrass picked off the men jumping from the trees.

'Power and accuracy.' He knew Potter had it, but Greengrass as well?

He watched in interest for several more minutes, his lungs becoming harsh with smoke before becoming bored with being a spectator.

"POTTER!" He yelled dramatically.

"Come out and face your destiny."

The pair glanced at each other before splitting up, dividing his attention as much as they could.

'Smart.' He thought to himself as he started his assault.

Instead of shielding like he had hoped, the duo dodged while Potter unleashed a particularly lethal spell chain.

With his attention focused on Potter, Greengrass took it upon herself to increase her velocity, causing him to roll forward to avoid the onslaught.

'I'm not going to last much longer.' He thought as he exited his roll, clearly having underestimated his foes.

In desperation he shot off a killing curse at each of them, hoping to get lucky.

Potter dodged easily before turning his attention to help his girlfriend.

'Stupid mistake, boy.' He thought as Greengrass's shield absorbed his killing curse, leaving Potter exposed.

A split second later Potter was howling in pain as chunks of skin fell off his body.

'I wasted my opportunity.' He thought in a horrified daze as Potter disappeared from view.

A moment later his world erupted in pain.

A pair of torches illuminated the mirror he was gazing into as he inspected every inch of his self, doing his best to ensure that he looked his absolute best.

Vain, perhaps. But long ago he had learned that appearance was as important to his rise as his power.

His looks and his charm were weapons that were as important to his reign as his magic.

A good looking man had a way of drawing people in.

A well-dressed man was treated with respect.

A charming man persuaded those to his point of view.

A couple simple flicks later and his robes, hair, and teeth were perfect, leaving him with a few minutes to spare before the start of his meeting.

He sat in peaceful meditation as the other occupants of the room watched from the corners motionlessly, knowing better than to interrupt their lord.

Searching deep within the recesses of his mind he found the edges of his soul.

Looking out over the dark void he could feel his souls pain at having been fractured, filling Voldemort with a sense of unfamiliar sorrow.

'What is wrong with me?'

He had long accepted that there would be consequences for his actions, but he never thought they'd be so capricious.

Muffled voices drew him from his meditation.

"Dolohov sent me – "

"I don't care who sent you." Bellatrix snarled. "Our lord is not to be disturbed!"

"It's okay, Bella." He said quietly, his red orbs resting on Travers, who was levitating Ambassador Patils favored daughter. "What message did Antonin wish to convey?"

Glancing nervously at Bellatrix, Travers calmed himself before looking passed him and at the mirror behind him.

"He told me to tell you that Potter and Greengrass have found the valley."

He felt his good mood better considerably at the news – Potter was beginning to become a thorn in his side, a chance to kill him while at his most predictable was an opportunity too good to pass up.

'It's highly unlikely that Dumbledore knows where Potter is." There was almost no risk in the situation.

"Thank you." He said dismissively, waiting for the man to leave before turning towards the other occupants in the room.

"Severus, Lucius, you two stay behind." The two men nodded in obedience leaving him alone with Bellatrix.

Her spat with Lucius had gone on far enough. It would do him no good to have them on each other's throats.

"Go to the Greengrass house and see if they left anything of interest behind."

"Yes, my lord."

Bellatrix nodded before disappearing with a soft *pop.*

He arrived to an unexpected ocean of hell fire, the atmosphere saturated with magic.

'Did Potter lose control of fiendfyre?' He said, chuckling to himself at the thought.

Even if Potter had the power to control such a spell, he found it highly unlikely that he would be able to maintain that control during battle.

Apparently he had been right.

Voldemort easily extinguished the flames enough to reveal Antonin screaming in agony while a school girl stood over him.

'Worthless.'

The girls face was twisted into a satisfied grin that reminded him of the child's great aunt.

"Very impressive, Miss Greengrass." He found himself saying.

"Your aunt Ophelia would be so proud."

The girl looked around in confusion, the remnants of smoke and steam obscuring her view of him.

Potter, however, seemed to recognize his voice, if his terrified reaction was anything to go by.

"It's good to see you again, Tom." An annoyingly familiar voice responded from across the charred battlefield.

'He must be tracking Potter.'

He chastised himself at his simple mistake.

'No matter.' The old man had no hope of defeating him when Voldemort was at his peak, they both knew that.

"It's good to see you again as well, Albus." He said, giving the headmaster his most charming smile.

He was relieved when the headmaster arrived with Bill and Remus right as Voldemort was preparing to kill him and Daphne.

"It's good to see you again, Tom." The headmaster's serene voice cut through the smoldering battlefield with ease.

"It's good to see you again, as well, Albus." Voldemort's tone was engaging and polite, as if welcoming an old friend.

While the headmaster and the dark lord talked, Bill used the distraction to cut across the valley towards Daphne, quickly enveloping her in a hug as the pair disappeared.

Sighing in relief he turned his attention back to Dolohov as Voldemort and Dumbledore began their duel in earnest.

Ignoring the shouting form of Remus Lupin, Harry directed his wand back towards the recovering Antonin Dolohov.

His first spell – a bonebreaker – found its mark, hitting the older death eater in the ribs.

Thick, dark blood began to drip from the enraged death eater's mouth as he responded in earnest, shooting jets of black lightning his way.

Harry conjured a rubber wall, absorbing the tendrils of lightning before shooting off a few spells of his own.

Dolohov jumped to the side and Harry charged forward, showering the area with spells as he tried to predict the man's movements.

Long black hair flung to and fro as the lanky death eater pirouetted nimbly around the onslaught, his wand remaining in motion the entire time.

Harry batted the death eater's first spell off towards Voldemort before redirecting Dolohov's disembowelment curse back towards the caster.

The older man stepped to the side, returning fire with a wide-area severing charm.

Erecting a gold shield, the severing charm bounced off his shield as Harry tapped himself on the head.

The feeling as though an egg was being cracked over his head overcame him, telling him his disillusionment charm had taken root.

The lack of visibility made him impossible to see as Dolohov threw curses around the valley with reckless abandon.

"You can't hide forever, child!" Dolohov roared, firing a quartette of killing curses every which-way.

'Shit.' He thought, dropping his disillusionment charm to avoid a killing curse.

Dolohov's eyes widened in surprise when he saw how close they now were.

Harry smiled victoriously as he raised his wand to finish off the sadistic bastard.

"Avada – "

From off to the side a purple spell from the other duel jetted his way, causing him to dive to the ground and into a severing charm.

He howled in pain as a thin membrane held his left shoulder to his body.

Dolohov took the distraction as an opportunity to retake the upper hand, putting some distance between the two before slashing his wand downward in a dramatic fashion emitting a copper spell that was quickly absorbed into the earth.

'Dammit, Potter!' He scolded himself at his inability to finish off his opponent as the ground fractured and lava flowed up through the fissures.

'It can be regrown.' He thought, severing his useless appendage as he tried to avoid the lava.

Conjuring up a tornado of fire, Harry directed it towards his target, causing the older man to abandon his onslaught.

Dealing with the fire left the man vulnerable, as he sent a multitude of spikes towards Dolohov, causing the man's eyes to widen in fear as one of the spikes impaled his thigh.

He smiled sadistically as he again prepared for the finishing blow.

A burst of pain shooting through his body caused him to falter and yell out in pain as he dropped his wand.

Looking down he could see the flesh on the side of his torso beginning to rot and ooze puss.

Slowly the rot spread as Harry did everything in his power to counter the spells effects.

From off to his side he felt something impact his torso before losing consciousness.

Albus Dumbledore didn't respond, choosing instead to respond by conjuring a stampede of buffalo, directing them his way.

The ground shook and he cackled in delight – he hadn't felt this alive in months!

Taking a trick out of Potter's book, Voldemort casually exterminated the beasts with a vat of fiendfyre before following up the flames with a hoard of hyenas.

Off to the side he was aware that Antonin and the boy were locked in an intense duel.

The fire cleared and the headmaster killed the hyenas with ease leaving the man and his gaudy blood-covered cream and lime green robes, glistening in the dull light of the moon.

Albus responded with gusto.

Using the ash and debris to his advantage, the transfiguration master turned a pile of ash and embers into a large dragon.

As the animation barreled down on him, Voldemort hoped to the side, responding with a quick 'Aqua Erecto' to absorb the dragon.

Without missing a beat, he froze the water into one solid sheet of ice before directing it back at the old man.

Before the wall of ice could be destroyed by the headmaster, Voldemort blew it to a thousand small, sharp pieces, directing them towards the headmaster.

Off to the side he was disappointed to see Antonin struggling with the boy who looked as though he was about to murder his best torturer.

'I can't have that.' He thought before firing off a quick spell towards Potter.

In front of him Dumbledore summoned the shards of ice that had impacted him and was busy redirecting them back his way.

A ball of flame took care of the ice, but left him vulnerable to the blasting curse that impacted his side, leaving a chunk of his rib cage in ruins.

Not wasting time healing himself, Voldemort mimicked Dumbledore, summoning piles of ash and debris and sending them high into the atmosphere before releasing the spell.

Fire rained out of the sky as Dumbledore, following his instincts erected a massive Merlin Shield, protecting the occupants of the area from harm.

Quickly he fired off a killing curse, hoping to catch the old man while he was distracted.

Voldemort howled in frustration when Dumbledore, at the last possible moment, conjured a bird to intercept the curse.

A scream off to the side directed him back towards Potter, who had just finished severing his own arm.

'Impressive, Potter.'

The earth shook as Dumbledore tried to disorient him with a thunder clap, following it up by flinging acid his way.

He successfully disappeared three of the four globs of acid until the fourth disintegrated his arm, leaving a grizzled mess of bone and ligaments.

As he cauterized the wound he idly noticed that Antonin was dealing with something in his thigh.

'Potter's going to win that fight.' He thought to himself. 'I can't allow that to happen.'

Ignoring his own predicament, Voldemort shot several curses towards Potter, the rotting curse ringing true.

Across from him Dumbledore's eyes widened in shock – the spell would kill the boy in minutes unless it was slowed down, and within a few hours unless it was countered.

Dumbledore quickly shot a spell Potter's way, saving him from an imminent death before reaching into his robes and removing a totem, banishing it towards Potter.

He grinned viciously at the opportunity that had presented itself before taking aim.

'Lacerare Furtis!'

Time seemed to slow down as the violent yellow orb of light leapt out of his wand.

Slowly Albus Dumbledore seemed to notice the spell heading his way as he turned to face him, his eyes widening in surprise as the spell removed the man's head clean from his neck.

Laughing manically, Voldemort gathered Antonin and the dead body of Albus Dumbledore, and disappeared.