The Dungeons

Snape had been avoiding having Harry Potter in detention with him since the beginning of the year, but orders were orders. Dumbledore had made it clear that Snape was to supervise this detention. However he knew what he would have the boy and Bones do. He had some frog brains in his stores that needed to be pickled and he had been too busy to get to it himself with everything that had been going on. Not only could he get these two to perform this rather unpleasant task, it would also give him the opportunity to inform Harry about the changes in tactics the inner circle were planning.

When they arrived, Severus was in his chair, reading a tome. He didn't look up from what he was doing. He said, "You will both be pickling frog brains for me this evening. Gloves will not be required."

Disgusting work it was but Harry was a dab hand at it due to his extensive experience with the task from his detentions with Snape the previous years. Snape had not mentioned whether they were permitted to use magic for the task, but Harry decided that he'd best not push his luck and did it manually.

It took them about two hours. Harry took a careful look around and could find no more frog brains to process. Harry carefully cleared his throat and addressed the professor, "Professor, it would appear that we are done."

Snape gave a critical examination to the line of freshly packed jars. Finding no flaw in the work, he nodded to Susan, "Miss Bones, you can go." Harry looked quizzically at the professor, then Snape continued, "I want a word with you, Potter."

Harry, being both curious and perceptive, realized that perhaps Snape had something important to discuss. The moment that Susan was out the door, Harry cast a locking charm and privacy ward.

Snape did not disappoint, nor did he waste any words, "In the last meeting at the hidden castle, Bellatrix Nameless decided that the inner circle members would start going on raids now. I don't need to impress upon you the gravity of this situation. If the inner circle is going out, things will almost certainly change for the worse. The Aurors may be outnumbered, possibly slaughtered. Certainly, greater care must be taken to prevent this. Of course, I have already told Dumbledore but I thought you should know also."

Harry nodded. He thought that up to now, the inner circle have been hiding, sending lesser minions out to do their bidding. So far, it hadn't worked out well for them. The Aurors had been killing or capturing about ten times as many death eaters as they had lost in Aurors. If the inner circle were now desperate or arrogant enough to stick their slimy heads out of their hidey-hole, Harry and his friends would have a crack at bringing them down. But he wasn't going to tell Snape that, "Thank you for telling me Professor, but I don't know what I would do with that information. It's not as if I am an Auror or a soldier. The Ministry is in charge and General Longbottom is their commander. We are in capable hands."

A week later

Austria

Voldemort knew that he had to defeat the Dark Lord in Austria if he wanted to augment his forces. The major problem, he thought, was how to defeat the blood wards. Given time, he could break them but not while having to fend off the followers of the other Dark Lord. Evidently there were many and they could all band together against him. He knew that even he could not face more than 6 or 7 at once so that was going to be a problem. Besides, who knew what they could do to him. He did not know their capabilities and Voldemort had no illusion that these would not be ruthless, cruel wizards just like himself.

He remembered that Abaddon had told him that blood wards could not be broken by sheer will alone, because if one could do that, the blood wards would have been worthless. What he did know was that there was a limitation to the blood wards. One simply could not cast a blood ward over a very large area. If he could ascertain the limit of those wards, there was a lot more that he could do than just cast ward breakers mindlessly.

Since he had started this quest, Voldemort had realized that he never attained the finesse that he wanted while he was young. He was subtle, manipulative and sneaky when he was still known as Tom Marvolo Riddle but ever since he became Lord Voldemort, he had lost his touch. Everything that he did after he had become Lord Voldemort was known to the old fool. Albus Dumbledore knew everything that went on in the Wizarding World and he had always interfered with his work.

He had been able to fool Armando Dippet when he opened the Chamber of Secrets for the first time. Opening the chamber was not a big deal for him. He had heard about the legends of the chamber and asking a few questions of the right people, he had got an idea about where the chamber could be. It had taken him a few years of roaming around the castle and inspecting every nook and cranny before he stumbled upon the bathroom. When he found the tap, he had no idea why there would be a snake on the tap but his curiosity had been piqued when it opened with parsel tongue. However before he could fulfil his dreams of eliminating the mud bloods, Myrtle Warren had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and died from the basilisk's stare as it emerged from the Chamber of Secrets. Her death had been ill timed. His plans had to be put on hold. Ever since that day, Dumbledore had dogged his steps and perhaps he kept track of his business with the help of sorcerers around the world.

Dumbledore definitely knew when Voldemort started on his campaign. He had resisted him at every step. He was thankful that Dumbledore did not know about his Horcruxes or the old fool would have been on the warpath to seek and destroy them. (Little did he know that between Harry, the mystics and Dumbledore, five had already been discovered and they were already on the trail of the remaining two). There was a link with Horcruxes that Voldemort had ignored over the years and had never stopped to think about it. He was afraid about Slughorn. If the potions master ever told Dumbledore about their conversation, his secret would be in danger. However with Slughorn's whereabouts unknown, it was entirely possible that Dumbledore would never know about his secret. He thought, however, that he should have killed Slughorn just to be on the safe side when he had the time but the pesky little fondness he used to have for the potions teacher and the thought that may be Slughorn could be seduced to join the dark had stayed his hand. Slughorn was a fool who basked in the reflected glory of his famous students, was loyal to Dumbledore and was firmly entrenched in the light.

The very thought of undying loyalty made Voldemort's stomach squirm. He had never been loyal to anyone but himself. He had no delusion that anything other than fear, greed and prejudice kept his own followers in line. He tortured them every now and then to remind them why he was feared. He knew that they were no better than cockroaches who would run for cover when the light is turned on. Most of them had run for cover when he fell to Harry Potter. They had returned the moment he gained a body but he was sure, most of them only came back because they knew what would happen to them if they didn't. They were leeches but he had his uses for them or he would have crucioed them until the last one went insane or died from the pain.

He had spent the last week, probing the edges of this dark lord's blood wards, trying to determine their extent and how to bring them down. Even with all of the stealth at his command, he was being careful not to use too much power lest he attract unwanted attention before he was ready to fight. It was as he had been told. The amount of force required to bring the blood wards down by force would leave him exhausted and vulnerable. Bringing the wards down by subtlety would require time and a myriad of complex spells which he could not perform while fighting off defenders. Interwoven with the wards were detection spells that would alert the dark lord as soon as he started to try and bring the wards down.

There was one place that appeared to be a weak spot in the perimeter, but this was an obvious trap. He decided instead to work on the place where the wards appeared to be strongest. It would be interesting to see what the other dark wizard was trying to hide there. Voldemort began his work by laying down some wards of his own. If any wizard came within wand range, he would know about it. Next, he carefully drained and dismantled the other wizard's detection wards. The next layer was the concealment wards. Under those were more detection wards. The ward-stones were buried deep under the roots of what appeared to be ancient trees, but this was a lie. None of the trees were more than 20 years old. They had been force-grown and made to look ancient with magic. When he was absolutely certain that the last layers of detection and concealment were dispelled, he simply vanished the blood which formed the runes of the final blood ward.

He could feel the power of the malevolent ward tremble, fade and finally die. The work of the better part of a day complete and still, no defenders had appeared. Casting one more round of detection spells to make certain that he had created an opening; Voldemort took his first cautious step through the perimeter.

Voldemort knew that defenders of some sort were bound to appear soon. Subtle or not, someone was going to notice his work and come to investigate. He wondered what kind of dark lord this man was. Did his people follow him with blind loyalty? Did they obey him out of fear of punishment as his own followers did? How many of them were willing to die to protect their leader? How many of them had to die before he would come out to meet the threat himself or would he use his minions as a shield while he made good his cowardly escape? Voldemort was curious, but it mattered little because regardless of what the answers might be, very soon, this man would grant his demands or die.

He had only walked a few paces when he detected another batch of wards. These appeared to be older, less expertly made, but no less deadly. He guessed that this must have been the perimeter before the outer wards were made. Despite his firm belief in his own superiority, Voldemort was impressed. Even the oldest castles in Britain usually only had one perimeter of wards. Undaunted, he set up his own detection wards and set about his business again. He fully expected that sometime soon, one of the creatures or followers that this dark wizard had at his command would detect him in spite of his best efforts at concealment.

On the other side, the Austrian dark lord watched Voldemort's progress through his outer defenses. When one knew blood magic, it was a simple matter to turn any creature, insect or plant into a spy. Currently, he was using honey bees to do his reconnaissance. They can see into the ultra-violet which makes the disillusionment spell useless. The snake-faced man had been poking around his perimeter for a week now. He had passed on the place where there were obvious weaknesses and decided to go where he was most strongly fortified. It wasn't a trap; it was a test of character. Whoever this fellow was, he was confident in his own abilities and not afraid of some hard work. He had already managed to create a breach in the outermost perimeter with the lightest of touch, showing that he knew how to detect and be subtle. But now, the man was working on the inner defenses and that was going to need a response. With an apparition softer than thought, the man placed himself by the detection wards which Voldemort had placed earlier. He carefully removed the one that covered the tree where the rune stone was buried, then restored the runes in the next minute. The trap closed, he apparated back to his sanctum. Now came the time to test this intruder.

Voldemort was still working on the first layer of concealment wards when a rapid series of pops followed by his detection wards flaring notified him that opposition had finally arrived. He felt a warm rush as his disillusionment spell was terminated. The first wizard died as his entrails exploded from his body. The answering bone breakers and stunners from the other wizards failed to find their marks as Voldemort was no longer standing there. An obsidian jet from Voldemort caused another of the defenders to shrivel to a husk and expel a death-rattle as he fell to the ground. Voldemort shielded as the remaining defenders blasted at him with reducto maxima and a wide-area stunner. For minions, these people were disciplined and seemingly not afraid to die. If he had dodged a second time, the stunner would have got him. They fired another volley at him, this time a shield breaker and three bone crushers. He dodged the shield breaker and returned the bone crushers. The third defender died as his skull exploded. With that, the defenders seemed to have had enough and they disapparated away. Voldemort attempted to disapparate away himself but the result was a gut wrenching sensation as he stayed right where he was. He tried to walk back out through the gap he had created earlier, but his magic let him know that there was something there that would be "inconvenient" if he attempted to pass through it. Left with no other course of action, he raised the three dead wizards as inferi and returned to his work of destroying the wards. Knowing that subtlety was no longer useful, he went at it with a will.

He had a war to start, a nemesis to kill and wizards to bow before him. Wizarding Britain was waiting for him. He had no time to waste. He was here to gain wands and knowledge to assist in his cause. It was time to bend this Austrian dark lord to his will or remove him from his path. He had always been rewarded in his quests for knowledge. Among other things, that had given him the horcruxes that had preserved his life when he would certainly have died otherwise. His quest for power however, that had led to his downfall with the Potter child, his body being distorted into its present form, that he had to forsake anyone who might have been his friend. Followers, minions he had. After today he would have more, but none of them, were his friends. Eventually, he knew that there would be a day of reckoning, but he deluded himself that he could put off that day forever.

The Austrian dark lord sat safely in his sanctum. As he heard the reports of his surviving followers, he was able to better size up the intruder. The wizard was methodical and deadly, not a hasty fool. He successfully fended off the coordinated attacks that were directed at him. He had no qualms about using the darkest of magic but was wise enough to stay away from the killing curse while within the wards. He had methodically dismantled the troops that had attacked him just as he had done to the wards. He had heard from Waldhem Meyer that this Voldemort was actually a half-blood named Tom Riddle. He had been a favorite student of Abbadon wich meant that he knew of some old necromantic magic. The proof of that was how easily he had raised the dead wizards after they were slain. The other thing he heard was that this maniac cared nothing for the lives of his followers. He branded them like cattle. He would expend them at will if it served his purpose. Then why had he not brought any cannon fodder with him? Did he expect to take on the local dark lord and all of his forces single handed? Was that hubris or confidence? From what he had seen so far, it just might be the latter.

As he watched Voldemort chew his way through the layers of wards, he thought that perhaps, with an all-out battle, recklessly expending the lives of his followers, he just might be able to bring this wizard down. But the question was, would it be worth the cost? Unlike the invader, he cared for his followers. The way he taught and protected them in return for their service was much like the way vassals worked with the ancient and noble houses of Britain. Very well then, one more try before he confronted Tom himself. He asked for ten volunteers to go out and face the threat, knowing full well that maybe none of them would come back alive. 30 of his most loyal followers stepped forward without hesitation, including the three who had already risked their lives against the unknown. He chose those three to lead two more men each. Finally, he chose out his best stealth expert for a special assignment.

He knew Voldemort's reputation. This half-blood was the son of Merope Gaunt and a muggle, Tom Riddle. The Gaunts were the insane, arrogant, sadistic, muggle hating last descendants of Slytherin. The maniac would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. Perhaps it would be best to leave, to deny Tom his prize by vanishing to the ends of the Earth, but he had never been a coward and he just couldn't resist the temptation to try his wand against someone who had become a legend among dark lords. Just a drop of the invader's blood and he would see who came out on top then.

To the remaining 20 volunteers he said, "I love all of you as I would my own sons. Thank you for your bravery and sacrifice. It is proof of the fierceness of your hearts that you put yourselves in harm's way without a second thought for yourselves. What I ask of you today is harder by far. You must gather up your brothers and your sisters and take them to safety. I and these few will delay that maniac so that you may live. Make haste. I don't know how long we can delay him. Dismissed!"

With that, the 20 scattered and began gathering up their comrades. Within seconds, only the ten volunteers and their lord remained.

He turned to his remaining volunteers, "You will form a three pronged attack from each side and his rear. Your squad leader will shield while the rest of you pummel the intruder with your deadliest spells. Pull no punches. You are not to attempt to take him prisoner. You, Schnyder, will remain concealed. Take careful note of how he fights and report back to me when you have all the intelligence you can gather. The rest of you are to disapparate if he starts to take you out. Remember, the killing curse is a green jet. You cannot dodge it. You cannot shield from it. It can only be blocked by an intervening object or person. If he starts throwing those around, conjure or summon objects to take it for you and get yourselves out of there. We have already lost three good men today. That's three too many. Am I clear?"

The men all replied, "Yes my Lord!", before they all disapparated.

He knew Voldemort was here for more wands. He had heard of the fiasco that had been Germany and how the Guild had bowed before him. But in bowing to Voldemort, Waldhem Meyer had actually shown good judgment. He had been able to prevent the loss of men and at the same time, he had secured a promise from Voldemort that Voldemort would not brand the mercenaries loaned out to him. It was the best deal that they could get from the brutality that was Voldemort. He however had made up his mind to deal with Tom Riddle in a man to man confrontation. He might die but he would not bow to him. His master had not taught him to bow to a foe. He would not do that under any condition.

By the time that battle came, he would know a whole lot more about the way Voldemort fought than the intruder would ever know about him. That plus the wards and just one drop of blood and maybe, just maybe he would have a chance.

Ministry of Magic

Alastor Moody was in full drill sergeant mode, pacing back and forth in front of his best Aurors as he briefed them. They all stood at attention, following him with their eyes as he went. It was obvious to everyone present that the Master Auror was in a foul mood today and that did not bode well for what was coming next. They wondered not for the last time that who in their right mind had chosen Alastor Moody to lead them. Alastor Moody was a menace.

"I trust you all know that we are at a crucial point in the war. I have received credible intel that the members of Voldemort's inner circle are going to come out of their hidey hole and take a personal hand in the attacks against us. This is supposed to be a surprise." He adopted a whiney sing-song tone, "They expect that we will suffer massive losses and become terrified." He stopped pacing and glared directly at his troops, "We are not surprised. The only terror that's going to happen is when they see what we've been training to do. You will not take any chances. The moment one of those slime-bags shows up at a battle, your orders are to take them out with extreme prejudice. The only good death eater is a dead death eater." He roared, "IS THAT UNDERSTOOD‼?"

As one the assembled Aurors snapped to attention and shouted, "Yes sir!"

He continued, "In light of our current intel, I am reassigning your squads. With the intensity of battle being kicked up a notch, it is important that we send in our best fighters. All of our best fighters have expressed their interest in going out there and fighting and I am gratified that it is so. Rufus Scrimgeour will lead First squad. He has begged off his supervisor job in favor of remaining in active combat. Proudfoot is in charge of Second squad. He has proved his worth in his service time and again." He turned to Savage, "You, Savage, will lead Third squad." He pointed at another Auror, "Hestia Jones. You get the Fourth squad." He continued, "Vance. You have Fifth squad. You are assigned to undercover surveillance and patrol. Dawlish, you have Sixth squad. You are posted to Hogwarts where you will keep an eye on the castle and the village. All additional squad leaders will be hearing from me as they are assigned."

Alice who was present asked him, "And what will be my role, Alastor?"

Alastor barked, "You will be here at the Ministry as our chief of logistics. You will keep an eye on every operation. You are also a part of our special Ops tactical squad which we have created. You will be sent in only when heavy duty back-up is required. However, you will be on the front line at the final battle."

Sirius asked him, "What about me, Alastor? And you for that matter? How can you restrain yourself from going out where the real action is taking place?"

Alastor barked, "You will be here Black, training the recruits and showing them the ropes. Bartley will be assisting you as was decided. You are also a part of the Special Ops and I would like it if you wouldn't venture out unless the General says so. I am tethered to my job of extracting information and coordinating our men."

With that they were all dismissed while Alastor asked Sirius to stay back. When they were alone, he asked him, "Sirius can I ask a favor of you?"

Sirius nodded, "What is it?"

"Sirius, despite what we say or how we carry ourselves, it is not a secret that we are nowhere close to winning this war at this moment. Until the final battle, we can only wait and while we wait, our losses are mounting. I have seen that Wizards live all over England and many of those came from Muggle born families who live in muggle areas. We can appeal to them to protect themselves and their muggle neighbors with a few protective charms which are quite easy to cast. The problem lies in the fact that Frank does not want them to endanger themselves and that the ordinary folks won't listen to us. But a figure head, that might be a different matter. I figured that if your son were to make such an appeal, it would go a long way toward inspiring people to help each other."

Sirius nodded, "I understand what you are asking, Alastor. I can't speak for the lad, but I will speak to Harry and see if he will help out."

As Sirius was about to leave, Moody said over his retreating back, "Just so you know Black, Bellatrix is very vexed with being kicked off the family tree. She is actively looking for you and your son."

Unknown Castle

The inner circle was meeting to decide which of them would be the first to go out.

Bellatrix was presiding, "Who do you propose should be sent on this raid?"

Mulciber Sr. volunteered eagerly, "Let me go. The Aurors have taken my son captive. I know for certain that I won't ever see my son again. I want to avenge him."

Glances were exchanged between Bellatrix and Dolohov before Bella asked, "How do you propose to proceed?"

"I will go to a muggle inhabited area and create mayhem around there. When the Aurors arrive we will kill as many of them as we can before we make our exit."

Bellatrix sneered, "Fool! If we were still going for the shock and retreat strategy, why would we send a member of the inner circle? Whoever goes will be challenging the Aurors before going on to slaughter them. You'd have to show ruthlessness, cruelty and brutality to them to make them fear your name. If you can't do this then don't go at all."

Lucius said, "I want to go. I have scores to settle."

Bellatrix snapped, "You keep your tongue behind your teeth, you worthless animal. You know that the Dark Lord is not pleased with you and will punish you when he returns. You have disappointed him too many times. You have yet to redeem yourself. I sent you to kill two muggles and you returned after having lost two of your companions and only killed one Auror. You have been the cause of more harm than benefit to us."

Dolohov who had been quiet all this while spoke, "I propose that we let Mulciber go and that we send a big concealed contingent with him. When the Ministry responds, we will swat them like flies." He slapped his hand down on the table to make his point and continued, "And in the unlikely event that we do have to retreat, we'll take our accounting of them before we do."

It was agreed that Mulciber would lead the first raid with 19 other wizards. The target they chose was the edge of the woods in Cardiff where there would be enough muggles slaughtered to attract the attention of the Ministry but not many places from where the ministry could attack them. Also with the woods at their back, they could disappear into them.

When the meeting was over, Rabbastan did not waste any time in sending a message to Severus that Mulciber would be leading the first raid two days later. Severus relayed the message to Dumbledore and a trap was being laid to catch Mulciber. For the twenty death eaters, the Ministry intended it to be a death trap which would make them fear the ministry. The same message had been received by the raven haired teen at the Gryffindor table. He shrugged it off. The ministry was more than capable for this.

Alastor called the best warders of the Department of Mysteries to his office and told them of his requirements. He needed some ward masters from the DoM and told them about the general location of the area where they expected the ambush to happen. Their assignment was to remain hidden, out of combat and lay down Anti-portkey and anti-apparition wards around the place which would go up once the death eaters were in. He also assigned the two teams led by Scrimgeour and Proudfoot to the job.

Since the Unspeakables tended to be private individuals and they didn't wear the scarlet robes of the Aurors, they wouldn't be easily recognized. They could even blend in with the muggles if they wished to. In any case, they were under strict orders to make their escape as soon as they had laid the wards. There was bound to be carnage and slaughter. Maybe they would get their hands on some important members of the inner circle.

Austria

The forest was ancient and dense with foliage. Trees, both mundane and magical, grew in abundance in the forest around him. Positioning his undead servants to act as shields for him, he continued chewing his way through the wards while keeping his wits about him. He did his best to appear oblivious to the imminent threat, to be far too intent upon his work to have any attention to spare. Although he knew full well that disillusionment and scent masking were ineffective against these foes, he restored the spells anyway to give the impression that he might think himself safe from detection.

He had decided not to use the Killing Curse. Shouting at the top of his lungs while his wand was emitting brilliant, slow moving, green jets was not going to be very useful in this battle. These wizards had already proven that they were hard to impress. Besides, killing them just meant that he would have fewer followers to recruit when the battle was over. But, by the same token, he had to inflict enough mayhem to bring their leader out sooner rather than later.

He heard a rustling sound off to one side. With a movement faster than thought, he shot a blood boiling curse in the direction the sound had come from. The cry in response felt extremely satisfying to him. The next time he felt someone approaching him, he sent a bombarda in that direction. The blast accompanied with a cry told him that he had found his mark.

Believing that his luck had finally turned and he was getting things done his way, he sent a few more curses in different directions. This time, he heard three distinct calls of 'Protego' and he was disappointed to know that his spells had not found their marks this time.

With the exception of where his Bombarda had torn through the undergrowth, the foliage was too thick for him to see the attackers clearly. He kept his senses sharp, taking sound shots at anything that moved. A few of his curses had found their marks, felling creatures, but the ones that would have hit his attackers hit nothing but shields. So far, they had not fired back. Still, this was not good, he was alone, outnumbered and pinned down by the wards. He considered the emergency portkey that he wore. At this range, if it worked at all, it would almost certainly drain him to the point of death. He would only risk using it as a last resort. He had made good progress through the inner wards. Just a few more spells and he would be able to get through, but that wasn't going to happen while the unknowns hiding in the bushes were waiting for an opportunity to pounce. Maybe his efforts at concealment were successful after all. He had also faced an Acromantula which had perhaps thought Voldemort was a tasty snack and had to pay for its foolishness with its life.

The stalemate had been going on for about an hour when he was directly confronted for the first time. About eight wizards appeared around him and five of them shot different curses at him while the other three shielded their comrades. By the time he dodged them the best way he could, they were all gone.

The next moment, he had to fend off three curses coming at him from different directions. While he dealt with those three, he found two more curses from different directions hurling at him. They were attacking him from different directions and not giving him a moment to regroup and think of a strategy. Clearly, the disillusionment charm was not effective since they could find him under it. He could not turn invisible so he could not fool them that way. He had to find them anyway he could.

First, he commanded the undead to go and drag the wizards into the open. Then he remembered another art which he had not practiced for a long time- The art of finding people by their magic. Master Abbadon had told him that every being or beast which was magical had a magical signature and if he could identify it then he could always locate people by their signature. Since he had become Lord Voldemort, he had not practiced this trick as he had never needed it. He was capable of tasting the fear in people, palpable in their body but these people did not fear him. He needed to find them by their magical signatures.

While the inferi created a distraction (the sight of their former comrades attacking them as undead was quite disturbing), Voldemort stretched out his senses, feeling for the sources of power that were the dark wizards he faced. He found nine of them altogether, a pair, two groups of three and another, some distance off, trying to remain hidden. That one by himself would be an observer, he thought, the one who would report back if everyone else was killed. Well, he would have something to report now.

By this time, they had dealt with the undead. With a single non-verbal flip of his wand, the one group of three sported deep slashes across their stomachs. He raised a mage shield which rang like a gong when the answering volley of curses hit it. That was fine. This battle was going to end really soon. Voldemort's next attack was a spell chain with a shield breaker, bombarda and reducto. The group of two was now only one.

The attackers were furious. They wanted Voldemort's head, but they had their orders. With five of their number down already, they disapparated, taking the injured and slain with them. Just to be perverse, Voldemort casually killed the observer with a dark cutter to his neck. He fell from the tree where he had been perched with a final thump. He refreshed his detection wards and set about the final dismantling of the last protection wards.

The fight had been challenging, invigorating really. It felt good to know that his skills were still up to the job. Ruling over his own people required nothing more than a few crucio here and there, the occasional Avada Kedavra against those who did not dare to even try to resist him, but nothing more. This had given him the chance to use his repertoire, devise tactics on the fly and yes, he could still dance.

They had retreated before they died to the last man. That meant that these people did not live in mortal fear of their master. He must actually care about them. If Voldemort was any judge of character, it wouldn't be long before their dark lord came out to confront him personally.

The smell of blood and burnt flesh filled the room as the injured wizards apparated into the sanctum. Out of the ten who had been sent, only two managed to remain unscathed from the battle. They had dispelled the blood boiling curse in the field. That man had survived and even continued to fight until they had to retreat. Of the three who had been slashed, one was dead, but the other two might survive as their lord worked on healing their wounds. There was little left of the two who had been hit with bombarda, but their friends brought their bodies back anyway if for nothing other than to deny the invader more undead. Speaking of which, they had to burn the three undead who had been their companions just to stop their relentless attacks. There was nothing left of them to bring back.

The dark lord took a head count and quickly realized that Schnyder had not returned. When he checked, he found that his link to Schnyder was gone. He asked his men, "What of Schnyder? He was sent to observe. What happened to him?".

His men shook their heads in response. The one who was considered to be senior among them said, "He remained concealed. We never saw or heard from him. We simply don't know."

The dark lord nodded, "Alright then. Tell me of how this invader fights."

In the next few minutes, they recounted Voldemort's efforts to remain concealed, how he had defended against each incoming curse and what measures he had used to detect and attack them. They made sure to also tell of how he had used the corpses of their former comrades against them.

When they were done, their master nodded his head in acknowledgement, "You have done well. I would be proud to call all of you my sons. Now, I must ask a much harder thing of you. You must go. Leave this place and live. I will contact you if I survive."

The men all stared at their master, slack-jawed. Every one of them felt like they had just been punched in the gut. It was Von Pelt who recovered first. He yelled at the men, "What's the matter with you men. You heard our lord. We have to get out of his way so that he can deal with this intruder himself. He can't have us in his way when he's using that kind of magic. Let's get out of here."

The effect was like spraying the men down with an icy-cold fire-hose. They snapped into action. Gathering up their wounded, they all disapparated, not with a bang or a crack, but the simple pop of inrushing air.

About another 15 minutes had passed since Voldemort had sensed any defenders about him. He had tried to raise the observer from the tree, but headless corpses made poor undead. He had, however managed to raise the Acromantula wich was keeping its eight eyes on everything from its perch in the tree canopy overhead while he finished off the last of the wards. He had identified and dispelled the anti-disapparation wards. If this dark lord proved to be too much for him, he could make good his escape. The creatures had stopped attacking. There were no more defenders. The forest was eerily quiet.

After all that patient work, it appeared that he finally had a passage through the wards. One more round of detection spells and he would see if this dark lord was a coward or if he would face him, man to man. It was then that a fiery inferno arrived as a wave from the north direction with a roar of 'fiendfyre' and the undead spider fell to the ground burning like dry tinder. About a minute later, Voldemort came face to face with the elusive dark lord who was about a head taller than him, stockier, brown eyed and his face was obscured by camouflaging charms.

As Voldemort turned his wand on him, the man stood his ground, seemingly unafraid. After ensuring that they were alone, the man turned to him, "What do you want Voldemort?"

Voldemort drawled, "Your life and the loyalty of your men."

The other wizard laughed, "I will neither die easily nor submit to you. On the off chance that you manage to take me down, I promise you that my people, who's undying loyalty I have earned, rather than branding them like cattle, will hunt you down and destroy you with their last breath, but they will never serve you. Although it will profit you nothing, if a fight is what you want, I will be happy to match wands with you."

Voldemort realized that the plan to kill the other wizard and claim the loyalty of his followers was in vain. If he did that, all he would gain was some target practice as he was forced to kill every one of them. No, he would have to subdue this one and force concessions from him to gain anything at all.

He turned to the other man, "Brave words. We shall see if you are still so brave when you beg me to finish you.". Without saying anything more, Voldemort fired a bone breaker at the man. He simply disapparated to appear behind Voldemort where he fired a blood boiling curse. Voldemort side-stepped the spell as he twisted around and replied with a bone breaker. But the other wizard wasn't there anymore. From Voldemort's flank, he banished a brace of daggers at him. Voldemort raised an earth-wall to block them but the other wizard guided one of the daggers over the wall and it pierced the shoulder of the snake man's off arm and stuck there. Hissing with pain and rage, he pulled the dagger from his shoulder, healing the wound instantly and contemptuously tossed the dagger aside. That was the mistake the blood mage was waiting for. He kept Voldemort's head down with a series of Confringos while he quietly summoned the bloodied blade back to him.

Voldemort raised a shield against the weak bombardment and replied with bone breakers intended to disable and cause pain. The other wizard laughed maniacally as the dagger returned to his hand while shielding against the bone breakers. He could see the shining red fluid that would mean defeat for this intruder dripping from the weapon.

"Incendio!", he roared as roaring jets of fire shot from both his hands at Voldemort. Taken by surprise by the two-handed wandless casting, he over estimated the power behind the spells and raised a mage shield again. By the time he realized that the spells were nothing but a distraction, the blood mage was gone again.

For a moment, Voldemort wondered why the other wizard had retreated. He hadn't managed to land a spell on him yet. But, only for a moment because in the next moment, he was reminded of why this dark lord was feared. He screamed in agony as every drop of blood in his body seemed to catch fire at once. Some part of him wondered at the pain, if this was what it was like to be on the receiving end of the Cruciatus curse because as many times as he had used it on others, nobody had ever dared to turn it on him. The blood mage reappeared, holding the bloody dagger which was now glowing with a ruddy light. He made slashing motions and the steaming boiling blood came from fresh wounds on Voldemort's body. This was unfamiliar magic to the half-blood pretender but it looked like a variation of the blood boiling curse and the dark cutter. He knew that if he did not act instantly, his body would be destroyed again.

Seemingly of its own accord, his wand snapped into position and fired a Bombarda at the taller wizard's wand arm. The dagger flew several feet from the man's side as his wand arm was blown to pieces and the man was knocked to the ground.

The relief was immediate. So, this wasn't the Blood Boiling curse, it was some kind of sympathetic magic like the voodoo priests use. It only took Voldemort a few seconds to deal with the wounds across his own chest. In the next moment, he staunched the bleeding from the stump of the other man's arm. Then, with a gleeful grimace, he conjured a cloud of silver vapor and a limb, similar to the hand he had given to Pettigrew attached itself where the man's arm had been.

He summoned the dagger to his hand and promptly tucked it away in his robe muttering, "It would not do to allow you to get a hold of that again."

The other wizard was looking at his arm in wonder, when Voldemort, with the casual cruelty that came so easily to him, pointed his wand and intoned, "Crucio!" He kept the torture going for a good two minutes before he lifted his wand again. To his credit, the other wizard only groaned a bit as the torture seemed to go on and on.

Voldemort turned his slit pupiled eyes on the defeated wizard, "You have fought honorably and well. Lord Voldemort is pleased with your bravery. Commit your followers to my cause and I shall spare you."

The other wizard who was still on the ground grunted, "I never enslave them nor will I let you brand them. If you promise not to enslave them, I will lend you 100 of my men to aid in your war in addition to teaching you the use of blood magic."

Cardiff

When Mulciber apparated to the woods near Cardiff, he immediately felt something was wrong. There weren't as many people around the area as there should have been for one. It was too quiet for another. He could feel in his bones that there was something in the air which felt hostile to his skin.

He was mostly surprised because this area of the woods was supposed to contain some muggle activity and he had intended to cause as much mayhem as he could so that it would attract the attention of the ministry but there was nothing in sight to shoot or kill. This ruined their plans!

Suddenly he went stiff as he could feel a ward being raised around them. If it was an area inhabited by wizards, it would not have bothered him but wards around an area frequented by muggles made him suspicious. With a quick detection spell, he quickly recognized there were some anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards around them! He cursed loudly and roared to his men, "Let's leave. We have been betrayed!"

Before he could go however, the Aurors broke cover. Bellatrix and Dolohov had sent about 40 men with him at the last moment so he thought he had enough to destroy the 20 Aurors who were arrayed against him.

He also recognized Rufus Scrimgeour who had his wand pointed at him, "Surrender and you'll live. Resist and it will be the last thing you ever do."

Mulciber growled, "Never" as he let loose with a spell chain of bone breaker, Confringo and Bombarda. He dodged the Auror's attacks as his side-kick shielded for him. As he launched into his two on one attack against Scrimgeour, the death eaters all up and down the line made similar pairings. Bella had been drilling them relentlessly and these weren't a bunch of arrogant incompetents like the ones who had attacked the Ministry just months ago. It looked like the Aurors were holding their own as the battle progressed and one thing was clear, both sides were playing for keeps. The tactic the death eaters were using was steadily wearing the Aurors down. One would attack while the other cast all the dark hexes they knew. Then they would switch and do it all over again. The Aurors continued to shield, dodge and even got off the occasional counter spell but they were going to get worn down at this rate.

In the middle of the battle line, Mulciber engaged Rufus and was keeping him busy with his extensive repertoire of spells. He wasn't a member of the inner circle of the Dark Lord for nothing. He had fought for him in the first war and won many fights. Rufus was a tough Auror but he eventually would give out under the onslaught of his curses and hexes.

Rufus was cautious but unrelenting. He was casting every curse that he knew but Mulciber would often produce a shield that would render his spells ineffective. Also the death eater knew a lot of dark spells which made it hard to fight him. Either he could dodge or risk his life while casting spells at his opponent but Mulciber had no such inhibitions. He was ready to die since he had come to avenge his son and was stopping at nothing. He didn't use the Killing Curse because it would require him to shout at the top of his voice and that would be disadvantageous in a battle.

Rufus was occupied, true, but he was also observing. He quickly realized that none of the death eaters were dodging. "Rookie mistake", he thought. Things were about to turn for the worse for the death eaters, "Attack pattern Beta!", he roared. The results were instant and gratifying. The death eater's shields shattered almost as if they had been one shield and the death eater numbers were halved as the first volley of spell chains led with the shield breakers cut through their ranks. A couple of Aurors went down as the demands for concentrating to do spell chains caused them to forget to dodge momentarily.

The death eater who had been shielding for Mulciber died a sudden and grizzly death as Rufus' spell chain shattered his shield, blew a fist-sized hole through his chest then removed his head. Rufus neatly side-stepped the dark-gray jet that Mulciber shot at him.

The next volley wasn't nearly as effective as the death eaters were forced to dodge or raise stronger shields. Only a few of them went down. Their two to one advantage had disappeared in moments. They were being more cautious now.

Around them, the death eater numbers were waning. Mulciber knew it would not be long before he joined his son in the next big adventure. There was no way he could call for backup. Maybe it was the end of his servitude to his Lord however he wouldn't die before he killed Rufus Scrimgeour. Holding nothing back, he let loose with a volley of curses so foul that they made the air reek with their passing. Rufus showed that he could dance. None of the spells touched him.

Suddenly, there was a battle call emanating around him and Rufus felt hopeful. But it was not the Aurors. It was 30 more death eaters and what was worse, Bellatrix Nameless was leading them.

Mulciber rallied almost instantly. He didn't know how Bella had figured out that he needed back-up but need it he did. There she was, charging in from beyond the wards, creating mayhem in her wake. In desperation, the Aurors hurled wide-area stunners and Bombarda maxima among their ranks, thinning them, but not stopping them. With the numbers about 45 to 18, the Aurors were in a worse position than they had been at the start of the battle. Dolohov engaged Proudfoot and two others. He cackled maniacally as he dared them to try and hit him.

There was a guttural cry followed by maniacal laughter which distracted Rufus for a moment. That felt fatal to him. Mulciber hit him with a black lung curse which he didn't see in time and fell to the ground. If he didn't receive medical care in time, he would die.

Proudfoot who had seen Rufus fall, managed to send a patronus to Alastor at the Ministry before he engaged the death eaters hoping that help would arrive before all the Aurors were dead. The Death Eaters had outsmarted them.

When Moody received the news, he barked orders to the Aurors in the Ministry to move out immediately to go to the aide of their brethren. He also knew they would lose precious time because of the wards. They would have to apparate to the edge of the wards and then go in on foot. The Unspeakables would have already left so he could not ask them to take down the wards.

Hogwarts

Harry and Neville were practicing sword fighting in the room of requirement by themselves since it was past curfew hour. Hermione and Ron were on their Prefect Patrol and Hannah and Susan were in their dorm. It had been some time since they had practiced sword fighting and Harry was itching to touch his blade again. He had been fighting for about 10 minutes now and Neville held his own against him.

Suddenly, the door of the room flew open and Severus Snape charged in, looking worried. It was clear that he had arrived there at a run. He was panting heavily. He wheezed, "Harry. the Aurors. they are being ambushed. Cardiff.".

Harry calmed him down, "Professor, control your breathing and tell me what has happened.".

It appeared the Professor couldn't control his breathing, "I just received news that the death eaters have sent backup to slaughter Aurors in the Cardiff ambush. Some devious plan of Bellatrix no doubt and she herself has gone. Help them."

Harry turned to Neville, "We don't have time to get back up and if we sent a message to others, it will be too late."

Neville's face was hardened, "Harry, we are sufficient for them. We will show them no mercy."

Snape tried to intercede, "Hold on. Just you two can't."

Before he could finish his sentence, Harry had grabbed Neville by the hand and they had disappeared.

Snape ran all the way to Dumbledore's office out of breath, hoping he could send a message to Dumbledore in time before Potter and Longbottom were hurt in their stupidity.

Cardiff

Luckily for Harry, the ambush was happening in the same area where he had gone werewolf hunting last term. He remembered the area and his initial plan had been to apparate there and figure out how he could assist the Aurors. He knew the ministry would send backup but he was not about to leave them to their fate. A lot of things could go wrong before the backup arrived.

Back in the fight, Bellatrix was fighting two of the Aurors having already killed two. She was ruthless and it showed in her demeanor. The two fighting her were hardly keeping up against her and she knew that they wouldn't last much longer before her. Tomorrow the Daily Prophet would carry the news that the Dark Lord's trusted lieutenants were still as strong as ever. She and Dolohov had actually made this plan before they decided to send Mulciber. They had prepared for this contingency seeing how the Ministry had been able to surprise them a few times before.

Their scheme was to apparate after a gap of time when the Aurors would be there and fighting. They wouldn't realize the threat before half of them were dead. When she and her fellow death eaters attempted to apparate there she and the others had been bounced off to a distance. She quickly realized that Mulciber and the others with him would be in trouble.

Then they had apparated to the edge of those wards before they finished the rest of the distance running. When they arrived, half of the death eaters were dead or dying while the rest were engaged in losing fights. She had started raining down hexes and curses on the Aurors while Dolohov engaged Proudfoot who had succeeded in sending a message for backup. She decided that they would stay and wait for the backup. May be today was the lucky day that she had been hoping for.

The fight had gone on for a few more minutes when two people emerged in their midst. Both of them had their faces covered with camouflage. They looked like young adults, probably about 20 years of age. She was astonished how they had bypassed the wards but before she could think about it anymore, one of them had beheaded a death eater who had challenged them. Not magic but a gleaming sword.

When Harry arrived in the middle of the battle, he was surprised. He had not expected that they would appear in the middle of the battle but was nonetheless glad. This would save them time. He noticed one of the death eaters near him levelling his wand and with a swift swing of his sword the death eater's head had parted company from his body.

Neville meanwhile had assessed the situation and was already sending curses at those near him when Harry caught his arm and whispered, "You engage Bellatrix. By rights, her head belongs to you. I will see to the rest of them."

True to his word, Harry had sent a cutter at the nearest group of death eaters who could not shield in time and they fell dead. Neville meanwhile was advancing towards Bellatrix, his eyes fiery and storm in his mind. Today was the day that he would avenge himself upon the insane witch.

Harry cast the black mist around him and started the dance of death which nobody present there had ever seen. He was moving so fast that he appeared to be a blur in the black mist. His wand hummed and whistled while curses left it at a rate that was not humanly possible. He would behead one, amputate another's wand arm, blast away another and impale another one. He had his sword in his right hand and his wand in his left. He was casting with both hands as needed and no one was the wiser because of the mist which obscured what he was really doing. The death eaters outnumbered the Aurors at that moment but they had forgotten their wits in front of the terror. Harry was advancing like a hurricane towards them, killing every death eater who happened to be in his way. By the time he paused, there were at least 10 dead in his wake. What nobody's mind could figure out was that he had been casting with both hands- The wand in his left hand and the sword in his right. And that was why it looked more fearsome. Harry was still nowhere near Harsh's level but he was getting there.

The Aurors who were still standing were heartened with the sudden respite that they got. Mustering their strength, they started fighting again. Proudfoot who was fighting Dolohov, was momentarily distracted seeing Harry blaze through the Death Eaters. He would have fallen to the curse which was Dolohov's signature spell but before he could, a powerful bone breaker hex struck Dolohov in the side, nocking him flying. The loud crack announced that a number of his ribs were broken. Even if nothing internal was ruptured, breathing would be a painful experience after that.

Dolohov knew his fight was over. He had never been adept enough at healing to heal himself and continue to fight. Also he was scared. He had felt that way when he and 9 others with him had ambushed the Prewett twins. Fabian and Gideon were demons. They had killed 6 of their numbers before Dolohov got lucky and killed them with his signature curse. At a point of time, the twins were on the verge of finishing him but the superiority in numbers had prevented that outcome. After he had killed the twins, he had felt very brave himself. Since that time, he had never met anyone again who was a warrior of that magnitude but this one had scared him. The bone breaker which should not have been able to break more than a couple of bones had broken several of his bones and threw him to a great distance. He had never met someone with so much power, not even the Dark Lord could do that.

With a lot of trouble, he was able to pull out his emergency portkey. He picked himself up with great difficulty and walked in a direction while activating his portkey. As soon as he was out of the wards, he was whisked away by the port-key before a blasting hex from Proudfoot had struck the place where he had been a moment ago.

In the meanwhile Harry had turned to the other death eaters and was killing whoever tried to stand up to him. The death eaters were scared of him with the way he was dealing with them. None of them tried to challenge him but everyone stepped out of his way. He however was not in a mood to let them go.

Neville on the other hand was clearing his way to Bellatrix. Some of the death eaters tried to stop him but some well placed high powered curses removed them out of the way. He was liberally using his family magic and the death eaters had no answer to his spells. Soon enough, he was nearing Bellatrix when Mulciber Sr. tried to come in his way and Neville coldly said, "Step out of my way or you will die."

Mulciber did not respond with words but sent a blood boiling curse at him however Neville flicked it aside with his wand. Being Dumbledore's apprentice, he was way beyond the talents of this death eater. He might be experienced but Neville was more trained and had learnt under the tutelage of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. He flicked aside his hexes while he walked forward. It looked like Neville was possessed by a power greater than men because nothing could faze him. When he was within striking distance to Mulciber, he pulled out his sword and said in the same cold voice, "I warn you for the last time. Step aside or die."

This time Mulciber did not get a chance to respond. As he made the barest of motions with his wand hand, Neville slashed his sword and it buried itself in his chest. With a thrust, it came out of the other side of his body and Mulciber Sr. was no more.

Neville did not stop to retrieve his sword but walked towards Bellatrix who was still sparring with two Aurors. She looked like she had been playing with them. Neville roared, "Bellatrix Nameless I challenge you to a duel for the wrongs done to me and my family at your hands."

Bellatrix cackled, "And who are you to challenge me, little boy? Has no one ever told you that you don't throw a challenge unless you introduce yourself? If you are beneath my station, I won't sully my hands with your blood."

Neville mocked her, "Station? You? You are a nameless witch without protection of any family magic. Your Lord banished you for bringing infamy to your family while I am heir to an Ancient and Most Noble House. For propriety, I am Neville Longbottom heir of Longbottom, and I challenge you to a duel for the injuries caused by you upon my Lord and Lady. Do you accept?"

Bellatrix was amused, "I will gladly kill you, little boy. I remember how your mother and father writhed while I tortured them. Show me what you've got."

As she finished speaking, Neville had already sent a bone shattering hex at her while she took it on a shield and started raining down on him. She showed why she was considered one of the most dreaded death eaters. She was always moving while she cast and her hexes went in different directions depending upon where Neville would be. Neville remembered Dumbledore's words about such fighters. He had cautioned him that if he faced such duelists, he should not hesitate in raising a shield if he needed to. Also he should not think but keep moving in random directions and never make a pattern which would make it easy to guess for his opponent. Bellatrix was finding hard to actually hit him with him moving in different directions.

As there was a lull in her casting, Neville seized the chance and went on the offensive. He started casting his choice family spells while beseeching his family magic to aid him in this moment. His magic was enveloping him and his wand was a blur. He had cast some of his choicest spells at Bellatrix which made her raise the Protego maxima since constant moving was not really helping with the boy casting in every direction. Unlike her, he was able to study a pattern in her movement and it made it difficult for her to dodge. When she raised the Protego Maxima, she was reasonably certain that she was safe since it required a lot of skill and power to break down such shields. What she didn't know or count upon was Neville's power. With a spell from his wand which hit the shield and sounded like a blast, her shield was destroyed.

Quick movement lengthened her life expectancy as she sent a cutter at Neville who could not dodge in time and it hit him in the shoulder immediately drawing blood. Another cutter soon followed and grazed his cheek, drawing a red line of blood. Neville winced in pain and slumped. Bellatrix was cackling like mad while blood flew freely from Neville's shoulder wound. Harry was worried for his god-brother and was about to step forward to engage her when a subtle movement of Neville's finger made him stop. He was tricking Bellatrix!

As Bellatrix walked forward carelessly taunting Neville, he suddenly whipped his wand up and shot a curse which flew through her body. There was a large hole where several important parts of her body, including her lower spine, had been just a moment ago. Her eyes spread wide in shock and horror as her body slumped to the ground.

Neville walked up to her body and started stabbing it with a dagger before Proudfoot pulled him away, "Lad, she's dead. She's dead. You won."

It was then that Moody appeared with the back up to find that all the death eaters were dead already and Neville standing near Bellatrix's dead body. His mouth fell open in shock. He exclaimed, "What happened here?"

Proudfoot who noticed him rushed to him, "Good that you are here. Many of our men are injured and need immediate attention. Rufus was hit with a Black Lung curse. He'll die if not tended to."

Harry who had bear hugged Neville first before tending to the cut on his shoulder over-heard the last part of the conversation. He turned to Proudfoot, "Where is he? Show him to me. I can help."

Proudfoot opened his mouth to say something before Moody barked, "Do as he says, Proudfoot."

About 5 minutes later, Harry had countered the curse but they still needed to move him to St. Mungo's where he would recuperate. Harry turned to other Aurors who were grievously wounded and was treating them when healers from St. Mungo's arrived and started tending to the Aurors.

Meanwhile Moody was talking to Harry and Neville, "How did you two come here?"

Harry smirked, "Told you, the Order of the Snow leopard has its ways. I would appreciate it if none of these would speak about our identity to anyone. I want to keep it a secret for now."

Moody nodded, "I understand that lad but Neville should tell the General about what he has done. He would be hurt if he heard about it from anyone else."

Neville nodded, "I will talk to them later and tell them myself. I am not afraid to own up to my actions."

Moody was extracting a promise from all the Aurors that they would never speak about the identity of their savior. If any of them did, they would face Moody's displeasure. As for the death eaters, they would be lucky if they survived Alastor's torture which would follow soon.

About 5 death eaters had survived the battle. Moody knew he would be giving them hell for the 15 deaths that they had caused. 15 good men had died today and someone would be accountable for it.

Before Harry could leave however Fawkes flashed in with Dumbledore who looked grim and had his wand out. His eyes did not have the usual twinkle in them but devoid of any warmth and felt like cold abyss. Seeing the look in those eyes, Harry realised for the first time why the Death Eaters had feared Dumbledore. He however relaxed visibly when he found that the battle was over and that Harry and Neville were both safe.

His concern was obvious from the tone of his voice, "I didn't expect you both to be so reckless, Harry and Neville. You should have at least waited for me. What would I have told Frank, Alice, Sirius and Remus if something happened to the two of you?"

Harry said somberly, "Professor, it was important for us to rush here to save these men. I am sorry if I didn't stop to think about informing anyone. I was sure that you would know about it soon enough anyhow."

He nodded, "Is either of you injured?"

Harry shook his head, "I am uninjured Headmaster. I am just tired. Neville though took a cutter to his shoulder and cheek. I already patched him up, but I'd feel better if Madame Pomfrey could have a look at him. Could you let us both stay in the hospital wing tonight? I just don't feel like answering a whole bunch of questions right now."

Dumbledore nodded, "I'll take you both directly to the infirmary where Poppy would be delighted to tend to you both." He whistled and Fawkes appeared before them. They caught its tail and disappeared in a flash of fire.