Reviews:

PrometheusDark: Thank you, I'm really glad that you're enjoying the story so far, and that you think the characters are all in character.

Greyjedi449t: Thanks, here's the next one for you.

Gwen Zenier: A lot of what's going to happen with Voldemort and his connection to Harry and the Horcrux will actually be answered this chapter, so I hope it is able to live up and not disappoint.

Necrogod: Not a problem, enjoy the newest one.

Greer123: Thanks, I'm happy that you enjoyed the fight scene and the interactions between the characters.

Energy-the-hedgehog: I hope that this chapter will keep you hooked and be guessing as to what will happen next, and as for the barrier, Rosine was outside of it and only the pseudo-apostles were trapped inside of it. I can go back to edit the previous chapter to better explain it though.

3elizabeth: Happy Holidays to you as well. As for the Hogwarts side of things, you will get to see what has been going on since it has been some time since I last wrote about it.

Guest: Thanks, hopefully, this one will be as well.

Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, October 31st, 1994

The great hall was filled with the chattering and daily gossip that was to be expected of students both new and senior. A sort of palpable excitement and tension filled the air, and many of the food prepared down in the kitchens remained largely untouched; save of course for some of the students over at the Gryffindor table. The Weasley twins were a source of jovial attention as always, having been released from the hospital wing the other day after having their beards removed.

The two of them were clever, but not clever enough to fool an age line simply by drinking an aging potion. That wasn't to say that their failed attempt hadn't swayed others from coming up with their own harebrained schemes of fooling the aging line Dumbledore himself drew. No, there were still conspiracies going around even after the twins' mishap, which they took with surprising humility. Some of the professors had wanted to be a bit stricter when it came to suggesting punishment, but the concept of public humiliation was one that was far too overlooked in this day and age. Although, Dumbledore could understand the mindset of where his professors were coming from; Hogwarts was playing host to two other wizarding schools this semester – Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

Madam Maxime, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, towered over everyone else, even Hogwarts own Keeper of Keys, Game Keeper, and Care of Magical Creatures Professor, Hagrid. It appeared that Hagrid was actually intrigued at the prospect of meeting another who shared giants' blood, although Maxime would never admit to it. No, she knew of the discrimination against half-breeds and the like within Magical Britain, and she had the aura of a proper French Madam to uphold.

Then there was Igor Karkaroff, the Durmstrang Headmaster, a former Death Eater granted pardon after Voldemort's downfall by granting valuable information to the Wizengamont. He sat next to Severus along the staff table, something that didn't escape Dumbledore's notice. The Potions Master rarely acknowledged the presence of the Durmstrang Headmaster; Severus had an image of his own to keep up. Karkaroff probably would have been more annoyed with the lack of attention, but his focus more on the main event of tonight.

Further, in along the staff table, the figures of Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman sat in accordance with the tradition of the event – the Triwizard Tournament. It had been decades since the last tournament, having been put to an end due to too many student deaths, and now Hogwarts would be hosting the legendary event. Dumbledore had no heavenly idea what the Ministry of Magic was thinking by bringing back this tournament, but with Crouch and Bagman promising a much more controlled environment and by raising the age limit to only those seventeen and above, it was eventually deemed plausible. No doubt Cornelius agreed to the terms because he thought it would boost his popularity in the polls.

Dumbledore had warned him of something going wrong, but the minister was adamant. Even with the recent happenings over the previous years, Fudge still chose to remain blissfully ignorant of the growing dark. For starters, after Voldemort's failed possession of Quirrell, the fabled Chamber of Secrets had been opened after fifty years of stagnation. Wanting to be seen doing something, Fudge chose to arrest Hagrid due to his record while attending Hogwarts. Things became even more complicated when Lucius Malfoy had the school governors suspend his term as headmaster. It was only after the youngest of the Weasley children had been abducted had Dumbledore been granted his position back to deal with the situation. The chamber was discovered after an interrogation with the ghost of Moaning Myrtle, the only dead victim of the creature from fifty years prior. Dumbledore and a few other professors had forced their way into the chamber to rescue the young girl and destroy Riddle's diary. The Weasley girl was deeply traumatized by the experience and had taken the next semester off for treatment at St. Mungo's.

To complicate things even further just a few months after that, it was discovered that the Weasley family rat – Scabbers, was actually Peter Pettigrew in disguise. The marauder had been an unregistered animagus since his Hogwarts days alongside James and Sirius. Pettigrew managed to escape capture, but there was a silver lining to his escape, there was now enough evidence to get Sirius Black released from Azkaban Prison. An actual trial found him cleared of all charges from the Wizengamont and allowed him to take the seat as Head of House Black.

Managing to secure an actual trial for Magical Britain's most feared Azkaban convict had not been easy. Fudge and his undersecretary were largely against the notion, the incarceration of Sirius Black marked an important milestone in Fudge's start as Minister of Magic, and to go against that would be an ugly mark on Minister Fudge's record. With the help of Madam Bones and the ICW, a trial was able to become a reality, and by the end, Sirius Black walked out of the court a free man.

The years spent on that horrible island prison would have driven any other witch or wizard insane, but somehow, Sirius had managed to fight off the soul-sucking madness of the dementors. Sirius had chalked it up to being that he was always a bit crazy anyway and that he had something to look forward to upon his release. The first things Sirius had inquired for after his release had been and Dumbledore recalled, "real food, some new clothes and a comb for my hair, and most importantly – to see my godson."

The first two were the easiest to come by, the last request, well… Dumbledore was unsuccessful in his attempts at locating young Harry. Sirius, understandably, had been quite distressed to learn of what had transpired during his imprisonment. Dumbledore had tried to assure the now Lord Black that wherever Harry was he was alive, the multitude of magical instruments decorating his office served as proof. Although, there had been an instance two years prior that had multiple instruments going off, specifically ones pertaining to mental trauma, increase in emergency magical reserves, and the addition of a malicious presence. When Dumbledore saw this, he feared the boy would die, but when the instruments stopped reacting, the one monitoring Harry's normal heart and brain patterns continued spinning whirling respectively.

Dumbledore had kept a close eye on all of his monitoring instruments from that point on, careful not to miss any new developments. Thankfully, the only other activity that came about from his instruments had been showing the growth of Harry's magical core and advancement in magic. The readings were extraordinary, far beyond what a core should look like for a boy his age, no, it could even rival the power of some fully grown wizards. And that begged the question, where was he learning it? Dumbledore had gotten in contact with every magical school the worldwide, and none of them were harboring the boy. It was alarming, while he was not opposed to Harry learning magic; the idea that it was a complete unknown troubled the headmaster. If they were dark, then the Boy-Who-Lived, an icon form many young wizard children could potentially rival Voldemort in terms of power. That was why the need to find the boy was all the more pressing, it was better to keep him closer than risk his young mind corrupted.

Sirius had been quite vocal in his support for locating his missing godson, it was effort Dumbledore wished he had shown more of in his schoolwork while in Hogwarts. "I find it hard to believe, Dumbledore, that in all of this time, you haven't come across one piece of evidence that might suggest what happened to Harry."

"That is not true, Sirius. I have already shared with you my theory of Merlin."

Sirius hadn't been entirely convinced. "And what proof do you have of that theory being true? What was it Merlin even wrote about after his supposed "journey beyond the layers of magic?""

"The original text was hard to come by, and I had to call in a few favors within the Ministry to gain access to that level of the Department of Mysteries. Merlin's writings seemed cryptic; the first thing he mentioned once he managed to cross over was being greeted by a knight of skeleton."

"Like an inferi or dragur?"

"Not quite, but that opening left much thinking he had actually journeyed into the afterlife. He talked about how our world was a branch of a larger tree and other nonsensical things that only made sense to him. In Merlin's later years, he became quite the recluse, studying on ways to combat a larger force than anyone could comprehend. From what I've gathered, he was trying to create a powerful magical item."

"I bet the old coot is laughing at us from somewhere," Sirius said. "Our shortcomings must be an amusement for a genius. But forget about your theory for a moment, Dumbledore, I have one of my own."

"And that is?"

"As the recently anointed Lord Black, a title that is quite the hit with a few witches, I now have access to the Black Family Library. There's bound to be something about rituals for summoning-"

"-Let me stop you right there, Sirius. I don't mean to quell your desire to find young Harry, but you are aware of your family's darker history."

"Meaning?"

"Only that some of these rituals you speak of could very well be dark in nature. And I wouldn't want you paying a price that you can't afford."

The conversation hadn't continued long after that. Sirius had become rather heated and told him off for having no right to interfere with a family business. If Sirius had actually found anything or attempted to try anything was inconclusive, but the fact that the Black heir was not celebrating led him to believe he was stuck, the same as Dumbledore.

A cough came from Dumbledore's right, and a turn of his head revealed the scarred face of Alastor Moody, current Defense against the Dark Arts Professor. Moody's magical blue eye was scanning the hall for any trouble. "It's time, Albus."

"And so it is." As soon as Dumbledore rose, the hall went silent. The moment of truth for many students was now at hand, the drawing of the three champions. The impartial judge – the Goblet of Fire was placed in the very center of the hall, the blue flames emerging from the top glowed brighter than ever. "Good evening to all of you! As you're all very much aware, this is the night your three champions will be selected to participate in the fabled Triwizard Tournament. If your name is called I ask you to please head to our trophy room to await further instructions about the events to come. Now, let us begin."

Dumbledore placed his hand on the goblet to signal that the time was right. The blue flames turned a startling crimson and single piece of parchment shot out from the fire. With his hand reaching out automatically, Dumbledore caught it. "The champion of Beuaxbatons is Fleur Delacour!" a polite round of applause was elicited from the French students, while many of the Hogwarts males gave standing ovations, completely charmed by the girl.

Once again the flames turned to red and a name was shot out. "The champion for Durmstrang is Victor Krum!" the Quidditch fans all cheered in approval, with Karkaroff being loudest of them all. His star pupil would be representing his esteemed school.

The goblet glowed a third time, shooting out the last name. "And our Hogwarts champion, is Cedric Diggory!" a massive cheer erupted from the Hufflepuff table; each badger was looking to shaking Cedric's hand to congratulate him. Professor Sprout clapped as well, her eyes watery with the excitement and joy. Making his way to the trophy room located adjacent to the great hall, the schools all had a representative. "Excellent! We now have our three champions. I am sure that they can all count on our continued support while they-,"

The goblet was not done. For a fourth time, its flames grew red, all eyes now on it. Alastor had his real and magical on it as well. From its fiery depths, a piece of parchment shot out. Acting like a seeker, Dumbledore's hand reached out to catch the smoldering parchment. The hall was dead silent now making it all the easier for them to hear the name he was about to read out, even it was just above a whisper. "Harry Potter."

Hundreds of sets of eyes began roaming the hall. No one came forward. His hands almost trembling, Dumbledore read again, a bit louder this time. "Harry Potter."

Whispers began to break out. "Did he say, Harry Potter? The Harry Potter?"

"That's what I heard."

"I didn't know he went to Hogwarts, I've never seen him."

"Hogwarts has two champions now?"

"Harry Potter," Dumbledore read again.

More whispers, this time they were more agitated. "Where is he?"

"Why isn't he going up?"

"He must be a coward."

"How'd he even get his name in? He doesn't go to Hogwarts, and he isn't even seventeen."

"He's a cheat then!"

The judges for the tournament were coming up behind him to read the parchment for themselves. "What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?!" Karkaroff hissed in his ear. "Two champions? Hogwarts has two champions? I demand an explanation!"

"As do I," Maxime agreed with the other headmaster. "Eet is not 'osible."

Ludo Bagman was the only one with a genuine smile on his face. "The actual Harry Potter! Dumbledore, where have you been keeping him all these years? No doubt you wanted to make an entrance for our savior, let's bring this young man out!"

"It's not possible," barely anyone was listening to Dumbledore at this point.

Bagman cleared his throat and magically amplified his voice so all the hall could hear. "Would Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, please come forward so he may join the other champions." No one, not one person in the entire great hall or otherwise made any move to rise. "Come now, we require Harry Potter, please come forth." Bagman was met with the same result as before, absolutely nothing. Moody's magical eye was moving around in his socket, Dumbledore thought it might fly out. For once in his career, Bagman had no idea what to say next. "Harry Potter, are you here?"

By that point, there was nothing anyone could say to stop the outbreak of gossip. The Gryffindor's were loudly talking amongst them demanding explanations from the staff. The only students from that table who weren't taking were the nervous first-years and Neville Longbottom. The Hufflepuff's were in a clear uproar, they didn't want another champion to take away the glory the Diggory lad was tasked with bringing to them. The Ravenclaw's were more hushed, but each was coming up with a theory of their own on where Harry could be and how his name was drawn. The only Raven who wasn't was a third-year girl, Luna Lovegood; her focus was up at the enchanted ceiling. The Slytherin's were the most composed of the Hogwarts Houses, students like Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis kept neutral expressions. Draco Malfoy however, tried to remain as composed and cool as a pureblood heir could be, but even he couldn't stop the sneer from working across his face.

It was becoming painfully obvious that Harry Potter would not be joining the rest of them in the great hall anytime soon. Whoever had put Harry's name in the goblet, had clearly done so to bring the boy to Hogwarts for this tournament, and Dumbledore doubted that it was just for a friendly competition. Something sinister was behind this, and Dumbledore had a guess as to whom. If Voldemort was truly behind this, then maybe Dumbledore should take it as a good sign then. Wherever Harry was, he was far from Voldemort's reach. But that again begged the question of where Harry was and why he was not here now. The Goblet of Fire was an ancient form of magical creation, whatever was preventing it from bringing Harry here had to be an even more ancient source, something beyond their comprehension. But what?

The lake water had washed away the ink-drawn rune covering Harry's brand and scar. A trail of blood leaked from where the brand was on his neck, and his head felt like there was a fire burning inside of it. He was seeing spots by the time he managed to break the surface, gasping for air. The impact of Rosine slamming into him at her speeds had bruised or even broke a few ribs. He, Rosine, and Guts had all taken a tumble into that lake; only two heads were above the surface.

Guts coughed up a bit of water and looked over to affirm that only he and Harry were the only two that had surfaced. "Guts-," Harry began.

"-She got out already. Her wings got weighed down, had to transform back. Saw her swim out of this damn lake." He pointed to a place beyond the shore where a trail of water was. Doing so, Guts' arm was visible to Harry. It was shaking, and it had nothing to do with the water being cold; the point where Rosine had skewered him with her toxic barb looked a sickly shade of orange. Dragonslayer rested near the shallows, wedged between a few rocks. "I got this, you go after that thing."

Harry nodded and began to trudge his way out of the lake, his soaked clothing weighing his movements down a peg. Luckily, he had managed to keep a hold of his staff and sword, he would need them if Rosine had any additional fight left in her, and he would need to finish it fast. The barrier he had used to trap the pseudo-apostles would not last forever, and the magic was at its strongest when he was close by. Glancing over to where he had drawn the entrapment, Harry was pleased to see that the circle of light was still encompassing the swarm, but the light was much less bright than it had been when he first cast it.

Puck flew over to him looking tired but accomplished. "Mission… complete…" he said, exhausted.

"Yeah, you did well, Puck." Harry thanked the elf. Thankfully Puck seemed a master at getting people's attention, so the task had been idly suited for a creature of his nature.

"Wow. I've known you a few days and you're already giving me compliments. I like you already!"

"Don't get too comfortable," Harry advised. "Rosine's still alive."

"Still?" Puck asked flabbergasted. "Between Guts cutting her and you zapping her with lightning, what's it going to take?"

"Hopefully just one more strike." And then it would all be over.

'Be careful,' cautioned Schierke. 'If she's cornered and threatened, she might put up an even bigger fight.'

But the sight of a bloodthirsty beast was not what Jill came across. There, lying on her back in the grass next to the burning cherry blossom tree was Rosine. The girl no longer appeared to look like her second transformed state, she was as she had talked to Jill, a bio-luminescent body with a pair of wings sprouting from her back. This time, her one wing was severely damaged, the webbing was working on repairing itself, but it wasn't fast enough. Rosine's eyes were staring up at the night sky, not even moving to acknowledge Jill's arrival. She looked… defeated.

"…Rosine?" Jill took a few cautious steps forward. She wanted to believe that Rosine would never harm her, but she saw her fight between Guts and Harry, she had been aiming to kill.

Rosine's lip quivered, and her eyes became misty. "It's a lie, Jill." Her voice sounded close to breaking. "The stories, the elves, this place, and especially me; it's all a lie. I'm not an elf, I'm just a stupid girl who dreamt up a paradise to escape, and now that's gone." Her eyes were very watery now. "I just wanted… I just wanted to believe that life could get better, and look at me now. I gave up my parents to the angels, most of my swarm is gone and the other half…" her eyes moved over to where the others were encased by that glowing circle. "They can't help me any more than I can help myself."

"You had me before. I was your friend in a place where no one cared about us. Didn't that mean anything to you?"

The saddest of smiles graced Rosine's face. "More than anything. And I'm all the more stupid for not seeing it before. You deserve better friends than me. Please, go home, Jill. I don't want you to see what happens."

"Listen to her." Harry leaned against his staff, still feeling the ache of Rosine crashing into him.

"Wait!" Jill pleaded, moving to stand in front of him. "Rosine's done terrible things, I know, but somewhere inside of her, she's still my friend."

"And what about all of those children over there?" Harry pointed with his thumb over to where they still remained trapped in his circle. "What about all of their friends, their families? I think they have a right to be angry if they weren't under her control. Step aside."

"Jill?" Rosine sounded far off. "What is that? It isn't one of mine." She was looking at Puck, who scratched his head in embarrassment.

"Uh, hi there." Puck gave an awkward wave. "Name's Puck. I'm, uh, here with the guys who want to kill you. Oh, I'm also an elf – a real elf by the way."

Rosine tried to sit up so that she could see him clearer. Her eyes began to brighten. "A real elf." A happy sob escaped her. "Where were you this entire time? I always wanted to know."

"What? Are you happy?" Harry asked. "You finally got to see an elf, that's always been what you wanted?"

Rosine nodded. "I don't suppose you're taking any last words?"

Jill was shaking her head. "Rosine, don't say that!"

"If it's about you wanting to be one with the elves, you can save it," Harry said, his sword at the ready. "I don't want to hear anything about that."

She slowly hung her head. "Just make sure Jill has better friends than me. And don't let her look when you do it."

"Don't let her look?" that was what this apostle was asking of him? With everything she's done, all the horrible acts, her last will is to make sure her one friend doesn't get to watch her die. She doesn't deserve it, why should she? Jill certainly didn't deserve to watch her friend die, but Rosine has no right to request that she doesn't, Harry would have seen to it on his own. An apostle making a request like that, was she purposefully trying to sound human, to sound regretful of what she had become? She was an apostle; they had forsaken their humanity for a demonic form and he had told Schierke once before that they deserved no mercy, they knew none themselves.

"Don't look!" the same words Casca had shouted to Guts during the Eclipse when the newly born Femto had… Harry's head felt like it was going to split open. Lying at his feet was a pitiful excuse for an apostle; she wasn't even going to put up a fight. Had the destruction of her paradise caused that great a snap in her mind? A dream that had been snatched away and she was now left with the sad reality of how meaningless she truly was. Harry's sword came down, but not on Rosine, to his side. He could feel three pairs of curious eyes on him.

'Harry?' Schierke inquired.

I know what I'll see if I do it. There'll just be another dead kid. And that's blood I don't want on my hands. No, despite everything Rosine had done, at her core she was a frightened child lining in a fantasy world, delusional, but a child all the same. She dreamt of something incomprehensible, and it had just now been yanked away from her, Harry knew that pain, and so did Guts, although he would not show the same act as Harry was about to. Perhaps Rosine did deserve to die but living with the shattered reality that her dream was gone, that was a far worse existence.

"Get out of here," Harry ordered plainly.

Rosine looked as if she had been smacked. "W-what?"

"Go. Get out of here."

Jill was looking at them, fearful that one would suddenly attack the other. "You're letting her go?"

"Your dream is gone," Harry told her. "It was what you lived by, and you're nothing without it. Never forget that."

'Harry, there are lights amongst the trees!' He focused in on the tree line. Indeed, pairs of lights seemed to be coming closer to the valley clearing. 'Maybe it's the mob from before at the village. They might have mustered the courage to finally attack back and come for the missing children.'

He turned to look at Rosine. "You say Jill's your friend, prove it." He pointed out the lights. "Draw their attention away, it's probably you that they're here for anyway. Maybe one of them will kill you instead, that way you can die knowing you helped out a friend. And I recommend you do it fast, Guts won't give you the option like I did."

The butterfly wings on Rosine's back flexed as she tested how long they would last. She pulled Jill into one last hug. "Bye, friend." Much slower than she had flown before, Rosine still managed to gain air with her wings. She shot off toward the surrounding forest, a distracting green glow. The torchlight's stopped their advance, and changed direction all of a sudden, disappearing back the way they had come.

"She's actually gone then?" Jill asked, her tone sounded sad, but… something else as well.

"Gone where?" standing behind them, was Guts. He was soaking wet, his usual spiky hair was worn down by water, and he was hunched over slightly, using Dragonslayer as a support. The cut on his forearm he had roughly tied with some fabric from his cloak, but blood still stained the dark material. The way his lone eye gleamed and the way his bottom teeth were barred, he looked almost rabid.

"She left," Harry told him.

"And you just let her?" it sounded like he had growled.

"I had her," Harry explained. "I was going to kill her, but I didn't want to look at the corpse of another child. And she has it worse than if I were to have killed her."

Guts' nostrils flared. "Oh? And what's that?" he was staring Harry down, his sole eye fixated on him, Harry could feel Guts' hot breath in his face. The anger Guts was displaying right now, it was beyond mad, he was demented. And just for a minute, Harry feared that Guts would turn Dragonslayer on him.

Harry was very careful to respond. "She has to live knowing that her dream is gone."

Guts was shaking now, a combination of rage, disbelief, and the wetness of his person all working together and simultaneously competing to see which one would come out on top. His arm seemed to be working to raise Dragonslayer, and Harry backed up, ready to defend himself if necessary.

'Is he actually going to…?'

Guts sheathed Dragonslayer on his back, turning away from all of them, his hand was clenched so hard that his knuckles were turning pure white, and his nails dug into his palm. His shoulders rose and fell with each consecutive breath. No one dared to approach him.

"Well isn't that a bitch." He stalked off toward where Harry had drawn the entrapment of the swarm. They all waited before following after him, fearful of what he might do or say next, but the question was present in each of their minds; what did Guts plan to do? As they neared the circle, they discovered the pseudo-apostles were no more. In their place was a bunch of naked children, boys, and girls alike, all of which were scared and confused as to what was going on.

"They changed back," observed Puck. "Did you do this, Harry?"

"No, this wasn't me." How'd this happen?

'Probably Rosine. Either she died and that somehow reversed what she had done to them, or like you said about her dream; it all just fell apart.'

So, what? Did she decide to willingly reverse their pseudo-apostlehood?

'Maybe. If she perhaps believed that's what Jill would have wanted her to do. It would have made one last act of a friend on her end of things.'

Harry dispensed of the barrier surrounding the children, causing them to cower at the sight of the arrivals before them. "It's alright," Jill tried to assure them. "You're back to how you normally were now."

They still appeared startled and dozens of questions were being asked. "Where's mama?"

"How do we get out of here?"

"Who are these people?"

"Please, try to keep calm," Jill tried to ease their worries. "Harry, Mister Guts, what are we going to do with them?"

With the pseudo-apostles now reverted to their original state, Guts' bloodlust seemed to be diminishing. "You know the way back to your village?"

"Well… yes, but-,"

"-Then go," Guts cut her off. "Take them back there. It's time that you go home." Realization began to sink in for Jill.

"I was hoping that… I might be able to come with you."

Guts looked more tired than he did angry. "Go home, I won't say it again. Your home life is a fight, but it's your fight. My fight is with those who won't care if you're a kid or not, one wrong move and you're dead, it's an endless fight. Go back to your fight, the one that you can win."

Jill looked at Harry, hoping that he would argue against it. "Listen to him, Jill, he's right."

"Finally agreeing with me?" Guts said for him to hear.

"Out there, it isn't going to be any easier. But back at your home, you at least stand a chance." Harry reached into his satchel to pull out a golem talisman. He handed it to Jill. "This is like the ones I used back at your village. If your father or any of his friends give you a hard time, just toss this on the ground and they'll be in for a surprise."

Jill looked at it with an odd fascination. "You're giving me a magic item?"

"For emergencies, yes. But it's up to you to use it, it's your fight."

Harry was thoroughly surprised when Jill wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," she said.

"Uh, yeah, of course."

'Lucky you.' Schierke sounded a bit irked.

For Jill, it was more bitter than sweet to know that she would be going home once again. Her mother would be worried, and Jill was sorry for having given her such a fright, to begin with, she was barely a teenager and to have taken off all of a sudden with two newcomers would have been concerning for any parent who cared. As she led the confused group of children back through the woods she had traversed with the Black Swordsman and Harry not too long ago, she considered what some of these children's parents would say or react when they saw their children after believing them to be dead. It would no doubt liven up the state of things back at the village, something which they desperately needed. Knowing her mother, she would shed tears of joy that Jill had returned safe, her father would… actually, and she did not really care what he would do.

He would not show her concern, she knew that, if anything, he would be disappointed he wouldn't be able to bust out his old crossbow and come to lead a raid on the Misty Valley himself. With his glory stolen away, he would be let down, let down in her and even more in himself. He didn't deserve the pity and sympathy her mother would show him, anything he would have done would have been out of his own self-interests, nothing more, and nothing less.

It was in that what Jill found to be the irony of the situation. Her father would only ever show her care when he benefitted from it, and yet someone like the Black Swordsman, while distant and brooding, had shown genuine care in his own personal way. Saving her from bandits, standing up for her, and knowing when enough was enough for her to continue on, in a way, he had shown more care in two days than her real father had in her entire life. And she smiled the most bittersweet of smiles at the thought.

In another part of the Misty Valley Woods, Harry and Guts, along with Puck stopped alongside a stream. Both the wizard and elf made sure to give Guts some additional space, he was being unusually quiet, more so now than ever and Harry had to wonder if he was giving the silent treatment. With Harry's decision to let Rosine go free, Guts seemed to take that as a blow to himself.

"Um," Puck nervously began, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news on this one, but are you guys up for another fight?" wisps of shadows seemed to dance around the trees, the brands on both of their necks bled once again. Damnit! The ink that Harry used to draw the runes had been washed away after the tumble into the lake, they would just have to fight their way through tonight.

Guts' arm was still shaking, the venom still having a lingering effect on him. "Just tell Harry not to let any of them get away. We wouldn't want them coming back to haunt us later on, would we?"

"I appreciate the subtle effort," Harry sarcastically responded. His wounds still hurt as well, and at least there were two of them to handle this situation. They gave each other space as they swung their swords, cutting down the shadows that sought to torment them. Guts' swings were sloppier than his usual standard; his arm was constantly shaking, so to counter this, he rested the flat of his blade on his prosthetic arm to lighten the load. Harry's own movements were not quite up to par either, relying more on simply swipes and cuts than any further movement. Even his use of magic was limited at the moment, he felt like he would pass out if he used too much of it. Keeping up that magic circle for that amount of time had taken its toll.

If there was a plus side to their predicament, it was that the spirit shadows were very weak. So weak, in fact, that the one who was managing to slay the most was Puck. The blue elf still had the burr and stem Harry had gifted to him, and it seemed to be doing the trick. He was flying around; waving the prickly weapon around and the shadows seemed to evaporate when hit. "Cower before the full might of a master of Elf Dimension Style!" the elf seemed to have an endless amount of energy, he kept going until the first signs of the morning dawn.

Puck wiped a droplet of sweat from his forehead. "Whew! What a workout! No wonder you stay in such great shape, Guts. I can feel the burn in my stomach and arms."

"Good going back there, Puck." Harry leaned against his staff for support.

"'Twas nothing," he seemed to relish in the praise. "Now, you two sit on down and let me work my dust powers, you both look like you need it. Let me start with your arm, Guts."

Guts extended his still shaking arm, and Puck began to sprinkle some of his dust on the open wound. "I needed that. Thanks, bug."

That instantly caught Puck's attention. "Did you just… thank me?" his face lit up brighter than the sun, he flew forward and hugged Guts by his face. "Oh, I knew that you'd come around and be friendly, I just knew it!"

"Get off me before I squash you."

"Okay," Puck complied, wiping away a tear of joy. He flew over to tend to Harry next. "That was one of the best moments of my life." Once Puck had tended to Harry, he slowly rose to his feet. "Where do you think you're going, mister?" demanded Puck. "As your temporary caretaker, I can't have you up and walking around."

"I was just going to see if there was any food I could scavenge up. maybe find some herbs for Guts' arm to help the healing process."

"Don't you know what patient compliance is? That would be really-,"

"-Let it go, bug," Guts interjected. "If he's going to do something, he's going to do it. Especially if it goes against what you want."

"Look, Guts," said Harry, wanting to make amends.

"If you're going, just go. I'm not going anywhere." He rested Dargonslayer across his lap, letting his arm soak in the stream water.

"… Alright then." Harry took that as his cue to leave. Guts would be able to get past what had happened with Rosine, at least, Harry hoped that he would. Although, it was more than an odd situation that had fallen between them. Throughout their time with the Hawks, they had always been on relatively good terms, with Harry admiring Guts for his talent with a sword like how a kid brother would. Guts would distance himself at first, but had always shown a degree of concern for those he considered a friend. This Rosine thing was the first real disagreement that they had really had, and with everything that had happened after the Eclipse, would Guts be willing to overlook Harry's decision?

Harry found that was not something that he wanted the answer to right now. For the moment, he would focus on collecting what he could find in these woods. And the more he searched, the more he was able to gather. Having been largely untouched by humanity, the woods surrounding the Misty Valley had managed to remain relatively untouched. He found a variety of different leaves and herbs, along with some berries that he could use to make a healing salve for Guts' arm. He stored them all in his satchel, and made ready to head back to the stream when an unexpected noise caught his attention.

He took cover behind a nearby tree, poking his head out slowly to see what it was. It was a horse and rider wearing a shiny suit of armor; he carried a banner with a chain design embedded on it. 'What insignia is that?'

I don't know, I've never seen it before. More clopping rang throughout the woods, and a second rider came into focus.

"Have you seen anything?" the second one asked.

"Not a thing. Whatever it was that flew past us during the night is long gone."

"Understood. Ready to report back to Commander Farnese?"

"Nearly. Let's go a little further, just to be sure."

The first one grumbled. "If you believe it necessary, I'll follow your lead." They steered their horses forward toward the stream, right to where Guts was. Knowing Guts' condition, he could still kill these soldiers with ease, but if they were with a larger unit, it could spell trouble for the both of them.

Acting fast, Harry discreetly directed his staff at the two knights. "Homelio dicerto." It was the spell used for od manipulation. He could make the knights think they saw or heard something in the opposite direction of where Guts and Puck were.

"Hold up!" the second commanded. "Did you feel something just now?"

"Something from behind?"

"Eactly. Quiet, we don't want to spook whatever it is." They dismounted and began creeping to where they thought they heard a noise. Harry cast the spell again, this time further away from where they were now. Again, they fell for it; moving quietly as if not to scare this imaginary thing. If Harry kept this up, they would be well on their way without ever knowing what hit them.

Thunk! An arrow embedded itself into the tree he was hiding behind. He whipped his head around to look and saw a second grouping of knights had been making their way towards him, presumably to meet up with the two he has redirecting. Not good.

"We got one!" a mounted knight shouted. "Signal the others!"

Bwahhhh! Bwahhh! Bwahhhhh!

Three horn blasts in quick succession rang out into the air, flocks of birds scattered from the trees upon hearing the commotion coming from below. The sounds of galloping hooves filled the air, and soon, a small platoon of knights wielding their chain banner came to encircle him in a tight formation. Riding up last was a blonde teenage girl in an antiquate suit of light armor, flanked by a blonde youth of around her age and an older, stout, dark haired knight with a large moustache. The girls eyes zeroed in on Harry before addressing him.

"We heard rumors from the nearby village that there was a teenage youth dressed in the garb of a wizard. I assume that's you?"

"It's not a crime to dress like one, is it?" Harry replied with a question of his own, trying to think of a plan to get out of this. "And aren't you a teenage as well?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "My age is nothing of your concern, and it is heresy to purposefully dress in such garb as stated in our holy text."

'They're with the Holy See.'

"These clothes are all I can afford, and I wouldn't want to go and steal new ones. I'm certain that it says stealing is wrong in your text."

"You're hardly in a position to be cheeky," she warned. "The locals of that village reported that two outsiders had stopped by. You fit the one description perfectly, and the other was of a swordsman dressed all in black. Sound familiar?"

"He already took off," Harry lied. "If you're looking for him, then you're wasting your time."

"He's gone, you say?" she questioned, Harry nodded. The knights had not pressed in on him yet, but looked close to doing so. "And this was after he slaughtered all of those children and kidnapped that young girl?" Harry's blood ran cold. "We saw that grisly scene back at the village. That was a sight better left forgotten, and yet you cover for a monster such as that. So I will ask you one last time, where is the Black Swordsman?"

"Answer the question, boy," the moustache knight advised. "We'd be forced to take you into custody if you don't comply."

'Please tell me you have a plan to get out of this.'

I do. It's hastily thought out, and I'm all but dead if it doesn't work, but I have a plan. "Alright," Harry heaved a sigh of defeat. "I'll tell you, but I'm only going to say this once." She raised a brow. "Floras locomotus." He tapped his staff on the ground, and woods became to come to life. Branches bent down to swat the nearest of the knights away from Harry, and roots sprung up from the ground to hold some of the farther ones in place.

"Witchcraft!" was echoed amongst all the knights assembled, and they cowed away from his staff. It wouldn't hold them for very long, the strain from before was still with Harry, and he needed to get out fast if he was to survive.

Some knights had began to hack their way free of the wood restraining them, ready to make for an all out retreat, but their commander shouted otherwise. "Desertion will guarantee you the might of the Holy See alliance bearing down on you! Stand and fight! He is only one." The moustache knight took her words to heart.

"You heard the Commander! Fight!"

Some of the few braver knights had begun to circle around Harry. Using his staff, he drove the blade at the end into the weak spots of their armor, just at the knees. They cried out in pain before he used the hard crafted wood to knock each of them across the face. They stumbled backward, clutching onto their bleeding faces or trying to keep some of their teeth in place.

"Watch out for the staff!" two spearmen charged him next. Harry used both blades to knock their attacks up before rolling and stabbing them both through their legs. He might have nicked a major artery by doing so, but there was no time to think about how serious their injuries really were.

An iron club smashed right in front of him, it would have smashed his head in had he not taken a step back. The stout moustache knight had joined the fray. "For a heretic and a heathen, you avoided that attack well." Some of the knights looked amazed that this knight was joining the fight.

"Sir Azan is really doing battle?"

"I've never seen him fight before."

"I never would have took him for a fighter."

Azan twirled his club above his head, bringing it down to his offensive stance. "I might not be as young as I used to be, but don't assume that you have the advantage because of it. I've got experience on my side, and the courage and motivation that come with serving under the Lady Farnese."

Farnese, huh? She was the clear leader of these knights, the fact that she sat up on her horse instead of fighting alongside her men said one of two things; one, she was withholding her strength, or two, she had little actually experience with fighting. Actually, some to think of it, none of these knights seemed to be too skilled in combat. They went down entirely too easy, even with Harry's injuries taken into consideration. It was like they were a bunch of noble kids who have never been in an actual fight before. If he could take out Farnese, or even take her as a hostage, they would be scrambled.

With an idea forming in his mind, Harry brought up both blades to block Sir Azan's sweeping blow. Harry let the momentum of the swing carry him, putting him on a straight path to where Farnese sat on her horse. A flash of fear crossed her features, he had her, and she knew it. "God…" Farnese half whispered.

Riddle Manor

Triwizard Scandal

By Rita Skeeter

Hello, dear readers, you read that title correctly, an act of unimaginable proportions created waves last night during the drawing of the three champions for the schools participating in this year's Triwizard Tournament. Just when we all thought that the three champions had been chosen, a fourth name emerged from the famed Goblet of Fire. It was none other than Harry Potter, te Savior of the Wizarding World, and the Boy-Who-Lived. As you are all aware, Harry Potter has been absent from these past few years at Hogwarts, leading many of us to theorize where he could be.

It would seem that we aren't going to be getting answers to that anytime soon, as Harry Potter never appeared when his name was summoned. This of course has led to shock and outrage, and more questions than ever being asked, questions that his reported plans to get the answers to.

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has declined any interviews with members of the press, which asks the question; how much does beloved headmaster really know? For more turn to page-

"Get that out of my sight, Wormtail!" Voldemort ordered his servant. He was not alone in the house of his filthy muggle father. Wormtail had been with him for some time, but Barty Crouch Jr. had been the one to deliver the paper. Crouch had managed to secure a copy before apparating to this hideout the morning after the drawing of the champions. Everything had gone according to plan, Crouch's position was secure in Hogwarts thanks to polyjuice potion, and the boy's name had been drawn as intended. So where was the blasted boy?!

The Goblet of Fire was one of the most powerful magical objects in existence, no one should be above its power, and Potter should have been pulled from wherever he was, straight to Hogwarts where he would be forced to compete. What power could possibly trump that of the goblets?

Crouch hung his low in shame. "I am sorry, Master. I will take whatever punishment you see fitting to give me."

"As you should. Crucio!" Voldemort held Crouch under the torture curse for as long as he was able to keep his feeble arm in the air. Pathetic, without Potter, he would be in this weakened form for an unforeseeable amount of time.

"Master," Wormtail raised a shaking hand. "Perhaps, if we to do it without the boy-,"

"-Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now, Wormtail, you coward." Nagani hissed at the rat-faced man. "Or perhaps, does some affection still linger in your heart for the boy's parents, for your old friends?" Wormtail paled further.

"No! Never, Master! I serve you, only you."

"Pick yourself up off the ground, Wormtail. You're filthy enough as it is." The head of Nagini slithered under her master's hand, and he stroked her. In his other hand, the strange egg bauble was held. "You suggest we use another, but whose blood would make me stronger than Potter's? He is the one, the only one who can make me the lord I was and more. Without him, everything goes up in shambles." The features of the bauble began to slowly rearrange. "Do you enjoy seeing me in this pitiful state, Wormtail? And don't you dare lie to me!" the eyes began to open.

"N-no, Master," Wormtail shamefully avoided his gaze.

"You lie. Crucio!" he held Wormtail under the torture curse longer than he had Crouch. Even with Crouch's failure at Hogwarts, he still remained loyal out of belief, not fear like Wormtail. He lifted the curse from the rat, who began to whimper softly, his voice having gone from screaming under the pain. Even though Potter's whereabouts still remained a mystery, the least he could do was to take enjoyment in the sufferings of his two followers. The eyes on the bauble were fully open and in an anatomically correct order. How dare they have the gall to suggest that he use the blood of anyone else but Potter? There was no doubt that Potter was the child of prophecy, a prophecy that he only knew a part of. That scar of Potter's had almost become as famous as he, Lord Voldemort, was. The mouth was beginning to open.

"Oooooooooooooooooooooo!" the otherworldly scream startled all occupants of the room, Voldemort included. He weakly turned his head to see the now fully formed bauble. The mouth was open, still releasing that loud yell, but it looked almost like it was smiling.

"M-master?" Wormtail cowed before the yell coming from bauble, while Crouch took a different approach. His wand was drawn and aimed solely at the shrieking bauble.

"Let it drop, Master! I will take care of it!" but no curse ever escaped from Crouch's mouth. The fireplace erupted in sickly green flames, making all of them assume that the DMLE had somehow learned of their location and was flooing in at full force. The flames seemed to have a mind of their own, crawling around the walls of the room, changing them into something else entirely. The walls seemed to fade into an infinite amount of staircases, each going a different way than the next; it vaguely reminded Voldemort of the work of that one muggle artist, Escher, or something.

"What is this magic?!" Wormtail cowered behind Barty Crouch.

"We have been summoned at last." A voice, feminine and curious seemed to originate from somewhere on one of the staircases. Five shadowy figures began to materialize on a separate staircase each. The first was of a woman whom the voice belonged to. Her appearance bore resemblance to the Greek myth of Medusa, with a pair of bat wings sticking out of her back. An amused and unconcerned expression marred her flawless features. Two others were rather stout and rounded. One had closed eyes and a gaping maw, and the other hovered in the air, a sick grin on his bluish features, and the sight of the three below him reflected in the glasses that seemed to be a part of his face.

Next came a raven black figure, with a leathery cape draped over his shoulders, standing tall and powerful. His head resembled a bird of prey, but there was soft, smooth flesh visible from beyond his eye and mouth holes, giving the impression that the armor was an outer skeleton of his body and something more human was attached on the inside. His eyes were red, just like Voldemort's own, but like the woman, his pupils were slits. The eyes of this being were entirely unreadable, if he was planning something, Voldemort found he did not know what it was.

And then the final form came into being. It was the tallest of all of them, wearing a leathery cloak that covered his entire body, but keeping his six finger hands exposed. His high collar did not hide his facial appearance, or the abnormally large brain that seemed to have broken free of his skull. Out of all of them, Voldemort felt the most power coming from this one and the raven.

The one with the brain spoke without moving his mouth, his voice filled their heads almost telepathically. "Welcome, guests, you bear witness to the summoning of the Godhand by your lord and master." A dead looking finger was pointed to the chair in which Voldemort sat. "We are the five, Ubik, Conrad, Slan, Femto, and Void. Your plea has been heard, and we have answered."

Crouch was panicking. "Avada Kedrava!" a jet of green light soared toward the one named Void, but never met its mark. The raven one, Femto, raised his hand and the spell seemed to freeze in the air.

"No matter where they are, humans never seem to comprehend that their existence is futile compared to the powers at work."

"Come now, Femto," Slan eyed the three humans with interest. "Their ignorance has made them bliss. Their concerns are so miniscule that it's downright amusing."

"But here and now, that may all change." Conrad's voice echoed. "With the behelit granted to this man, the possibility for his eyes to be opened are now possible."

"Yes," Ubik agreed. "But first, he must be willing to accept our offer. Nothing will change if he does not."

Void inclined his head. "My kinsman speaks the truth. You, Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Dark Lord known as Voldemort, are presented with a choice. Decline, and continue to exist in your pitiful state, or accept our offer to be remade into the body you once had. In this world, you would be our prodigal son, an apostle amongst sheep. Your servitude would prove invaluable."

An old flame rekindled inside of Voldemort. How dare they call me by my father's name! "I serve nobody!" he hissed up at the Godhand.

Ubik floated down until his face was only feet from Voldemort's own. Nagini hissed as well, but she did not strike. "Your defiance is expected, as of most humans."

"I am beyond human!"

Slan couldn't hold back a dry chuckle. "That you are. One foot is already in the grave."

"You are as broken as they come," said Femto. "You cling to a past memory, a dream of what you once were. That is your folly."

"Silence!" Voldemort yelled. "I will not be talked down to by the likes of you! I, Lord Voldemort, have transcended death!"

Femto smirked. "And yet, you still try to summon a boy so that you may be reborn."

"How did you-?"

"-Do you wonder why he is not here? Your arrogance in magic has clouded your eyes. If you believed a mere goblet could break the power of my brand on the boy, you were mistaken."

"You! You know where the boy is!"

"His body, blood, and everything else belong to me. He was to be my sacrifice, but not mine to kill."

Void continued where Femto left off. "The scar on his forehead, which is your work. You have branded him in your own way, by means of fate. Worlds separate you both, but causality still works its lasting effect."

Slan spoke next. "But in your vain attempt to cheat death, you never thought what might happen to the boy. Not only did you brand him, you left a trace of yourself behind."

No, it couldn't be. Harry Potter, a Horcrux? "You lie." It lacked his usual amount of venom.

Conrad spoke again. "You have let ignorance cloud your views all your life, believe it, or don't, the truth is all the same." Vooldemort did not want it to be true. If it was, then he would have to kill part of his soul before killing the brat. It was a humiliation that he couldn't stand for.

"We offer you the choice to make it all null," Ubik's glasses seemed to shine brighter. "Accept, and your body shall be restored to you."

"That is not possible," Voldemort denied the claim. "Only the blood of Potter can-,"

"-That is not how our power works," Slan eyed him. "Anything and everything is possible when something you hold dear to your heart is sacrificed."

"Indeed it is," Ubik floated around the chair, making Wormtail and Crouch back away. "But you have never known friends or family." And Voldemort saw in the reflection of Ubik's glasses, the image of Wool's Orphanage. "All your childhood, all your school years, there was not a single person you held close to you, only yourself."

"And your soul lives," Conrad added. "Split beyond recognition, but still in existence."

"Accept our offer, and you will receive your body in exchange for the nullifying of your soul anchors," Void concluded.

"My immortality…"

"You will be immortal to the effects of time, but should the boy confronts you as is prophecy, your life is in your own hands."

"And what of the boy?" Voldemort asked. "If I accept, will he be destroyed as well?"

"His body still belongs to me," Femto reiterated. "He will still be branded, but that piece of you will be gone. He will be as killable as any other."

Nagini's tongue flicked out nervously. She seemed to know what Voldemort was already considering. "…And when will the boy be delivered to me?"There could be no one to stand in his way. If he had to accept the aid of these… Godhand, so be it. As long as Potter would eventually wind up dead by his hand. So what of he had to null his Horcrux's? once Potter was dead, he would make more, there was no guarantee these Godhand would stick to their word, he had to look out for himself.

"The worlds are close to changing," Void answered. "The veil separating your worlds will become as thin as parchment, and then, he will come to you."

"…" Wormtail and Crouch remained huddled together, too scared to even move, or maybe the power of the Godhand was keeping them like that. "…I… accept your offer."

Void spread his long, thin arms from beneath his robe. "So it shall be, by the will of causality." Nagani hissed one last time before thrashing around on the floor. In Gringotts, the cup of Hufflepuff began to shake and rattle of its own accord; goblin keepers were already detecting signs of dark magic because of it. In number 12 Grimmauld Place, a locket was having a similar reaction, same with a diadem hidden away at Hogwarts and a ring buried away in the House of Gaunt. And in another world, Harry Potter felt it as well.

The last thing Harry remembered, before his head split open with unimaginable pain, was being within arm's reach of Farnese. The shock and fear was evident on her face, the both of them knew that he had her in that moment. "God…" that was the only thing she was able to say, the only thing that came to mind for her, the belief that God would somehow protect her from the impending attack. But before his blow could even strike, a pain like no other erupted from Harry's scar.

"AAhhhhaa!" his staff and sword fell alongside him, both hands moving to clutch at his head. He was losing conciseness, he wasn't even able to hear Schierke's voice calling to him, and he was only faintly aware of the blood oozing from his scar. Even the world around him seemed to be in a haze as he was seeing spots through his half-lidded eyes. Farnese only stared down at him in a trance-like state, she knew she had been close to death in that moment, and the shock was still with her.

"Lady Farnese!" Serpico ran to her side. "Are you alright? Did he harm you?"

She seemed to be having trouble finding her voice. "N-no," she cleared her throat. "He seems to have worn himself out from the fight. I consider myself thankful for that." The rest of the Holy Iron Chain Knights formed a hastily made circle around the fallen wizard.

One raised his sword. "Die, heretic!"

"Wait!" Farnese halted his blade. "Get a moveable stock, we're putting him in chains." Some of her soldiers seemed displeased with her decision.

"But, Commander, this vermin crippled some of our men! We should kill him where he is!"

"He will be killed, I assure you," she told them. "As it stands, he is an accomplice of the Black Swordsman, we'll interrogate him first, and after that we take him to the Tower of Conviction. Father Mozgus travels there as we speak. He'll make a display of this riffraff." She ordered for the boy's staff and sword to be confiscated along with his satchel. She didn't want any more surprises coming from this heretic. The wizard's head and hands were put in a stock, and he was hauled to his feet and tied to her horse. She would ride slow, it wouldn't do well if he were to die before she questioned him.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed seeing the Hogwarts side of things again after such a wait. And while the Triwizard thing was a bit of a red herring on my end, that isn't to say Harry won't be returning to the HP side of things, I already have an exact moment planned out for when that will happen. Thank you for reading.