Another dosage of our wonderful friends is here, my readers! Oh what fun awaits... *skims chapter* oh... fun may not have been the best word choice then... Well, you'll have to actually read for yourself to find out I guess. Leave a review, save a writer! many thanks to you all.

Chapter Six

Terror of the Ancients

Harry immediately left Hermione in the main hall of Orthanc, wanting to be on his own for a short while to think of what was to come. He knew that they really ought to head out and join up with Faykan and the others at Gundabad, but he just didn't fell up to another battle so soon. He was growing quite weary of the constant movement this year, how they had little no to time to stop, and importantly for Harry to settle into his new role as one of the Istari.

Wandering up to the very pinnacle of Orthanc, Harry understood why it was Faykan's favorite location. The grand view of the country for miles in all directions allowed them to project their thoughts outward and meditate on the beauty of Arda, which in turn gave him the peace he needed to settle his own inner turmoil. It was there, upon the height of the black stone tower, that Harry felt warmth spread up his hand. Looking down, he studied little Vilya on his hand.

It had felt like such a long time since he had received the ring of power from the Lord Elrond Half-elven, nearly three years ago, and he had never taken the opportunity to really understand what it was capable of. From history, he knew it was the greatest of the three elven rings, once worn by the Ñoldorin elf, Gil-galad.

A bird flew up past Harry, momentarily distracting him, and suddenly his mind transported away from the fords of Isen. Over hill and vale, past forest and mountain he flew, transported upon sight that existed beyond his natural eyes. Somewhere far to the south, something of the enemy moved upon lands that were not its own.

Harry saw, through the eyes of a large bird as it flew overhead, a small army of black figures descended upon a desert village, and it angered him. This was not right, the battle lay to the north, what were these doing? Out of his view, Harry felt Vilya burn again, magic demanding to be used to protect.

Harry wasn't sure what he was to do, but he spoke regardless, extending his influence over the very elements of the desert landscape to defend the innocent. "Sul ar' litse en' i' arda, ona varna i' gwaith en' i' kemen!" the boy Istari declared, and watched from his bird's eye perspective as a sandstorm was kicked up on the word of his command.

The black dots that he knew were the hosts of Mordor scattered and fled as the storm raged outward, forming a powerful bulwark around the little village, before his vision shifted again, seeing the same scene again as village after village was set upon, and the power and might of the Elven ring gave him the strength to invoke powerful magic of protection and defense over as many as he could, proclaiming his right as one of the servants of the Valar to serve and keep safe the peoples of the earth. He still grieved each time he could not save a village, and their peoples were slain or dragged away captive by the servants of Darkness.

Each defeat drove him on to push harder, and work stronger magic, until at last he felt the pressure in his mind ease. The last of the raids were resolved. Out of the dozens that were attacked, he had saved well over half, but the enemy still left its impression on the ones that were now gone forever.

Harry's vision swam again, flying northward and to the east now, to the northern parts of Britain, until he felt a powerful and evil mind touch with his own. Voldemort laughed, trying to reach through their connection and learn where Harry was. 'You cannot hide,' he said through their connection in Harry's scar, which burned mightily as Harry fought to keep the Dark one from seeing through his own eyes. Voldemort continued to taunt, attempting to provoke Harry into a rage that would weaken his mental defenses, 'There is no light, in the void! Only death...'

Pure radient power surged through Harry, as once more the blue stoned ring on his finger burned, and Voldemort hastily withdrew his attempts to attack his mind. 'Voldemort!' Harry cried mentally, throwing all the venom at the Dark Lord that he could muster. 'You're power in this world is nearing its end!' Harry bellowed, to which the Dark Lord laughed him to scorn. Harry's mind swam again, more painfully than before, until he saw the northern battle, and the armies of the dwarves surging down to fight their hated foes. But Voldemort was laughing, knowing of something else, dark and menacing lurked just beyond, ready to consume them all. Shadow and flame roared in Harry's mind, before he dragged himself away from the Dark Lord's mind. 'Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul...' Voldemort managed to chant once before Harry finally removed himself from touching the Dark Lord's mind, and returned to his body at Orthanc.

When he opened his eyes, he was still standing atop the highest point of the tower, staff in hand as he faced southward. Had he been truly casting his spells over so long a distance?

He felt tired, more so than he had in the longest time, but it was more of a mental weariness than physical exhaustion. Alas, his time at work was only just beginning, and with this new knowledge of Voldemort's cruelty burning in his heart, Harry knew that he needed to bring reinforcements to the battle for whatever evil was coming for the dwarves and his friends.

"Hermione!" he cried, as he sprinted down the tower, and she looked scared and concerned by the frantic tone of his voice, "We need to go now!" he said in a rush, taking her hand and dragging her in his haste to exit Orthanc.

"I... but... we... go where?" she said, struggling to keep up with Harry's magically increased strides.

He thought hard, who could they turn to for assistance in this desperate hour? "The Beornings!" he said triumphantly as the thought struck him, and before Hermione could so much a yelp in protest, he turned on the spot and apparated away to the home of the skin-changers. They were now the Lights only hope.

~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~

Draco was starting to feel the magical strain, as he fired spell after spell, cutting down waves of charging orcs as the foul, black beasts tried to assault their position for roughly the seventh time since the battle started.

The dwarves were gaining ground, their initial charge aided by a bombardment of magic that shattered the front lines of the orcs, but even still the hideous creatures managed time and again to break through and scramble up the sides of the ridge to attempt to slay the wizards.

At their forefront stood Faykan, poised over the ridge with staff in hand, eyes closed as he chanted some spell or another. Draco fired another concussive spell into a knot of orcs attempting to drag a dwarven warrior from his ram mount, causing an explosion that sent the creatures flying in all directions.

"Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!" a shout went up from all around, and Draco turned, seeing the King of the Dwarves, surrounded by his elite guards and fellow Dwarf-Lords, charge down into the fray, shouting as they went. The dwarves rallied once more at the approach of their king, and pressed more boldly against the lines of Gundabad orcs. A group of wizards started peppering the path ahead of the Mountain King with spells, opening a causeway through the melee for the Lord of Moria to reach the very center of the battle.

"To the King! To the King!" the dwarves yelled, assaulting the orcs on every side, even as they were answered by Náin and his shout of, "To battle!"

The orcs fell back, pressed almost to their terrible gates of the mountain, just as Faykan's eyes opened, with a blinding radience to them. Staff swung downward to point directly at the gates of Gundabad, and words of power surged from his lips.

A beam of pure white energy ruptured out of the shimmering sapphire, flying across the battlefield, past dwarf and orc alike, and slammed into the stone of Gundabad itself, shattering stone and metal with a sickening crash. The mountainside exploded outward, raining shrapnel and boulders upon the combatants, while a massive breach in the mountain was unveiled.

A cheer went up from the dwarves and wizards, as the way was opened for the mountain to be taken. But a bellowing roar silenced them all. All eyes, both orc, dwarve and man, turned to the hole into the mountain as something thundered its way to the surface.

Draco shuddered as he recognized the inhuman sound, saw the smoke pour from the wound in the mountain, saw the fire and felt the hatred surge from the beast within the mountain.

Dwarves screamed in fright, the men shrank back as a being rose from the mountainside, composed of Fire and Shadow. Standing well over twice the size of a man, the creature reeked of death and fear, and carried weapons of flame in its hands.

"Durin's Bane returns!" many voices cried from the dwarves, while the men unconsciously shrank closer to Faykan.

"What is this new devilry?" someone asked, and Draco turned to Faykan, whose face had gone pearly white.

"A Balrog..." he answered quietly, "a demon of the ancient world..." the men on all side muttered in fear, wondering what they must do.

"This foe is beyond any of you..." Faykan said, almost casually, and he took a step forward, drawing Glamdring from its scabbard.

Down in the valley, Náin was trying to rally his forces, but the Balrog leapt into the air, momentarily blocking out the sun, and crashing upon the vanguard of the dwarven king. The dwarves stood no chance against the towering behemoth of flame. Warriors were sent flying in all directions until the Balrog towered over King Náin.

"NO!" Faykan yelled, dashing toward the demon of shadow and flames, Glamdring flashing in his hand as the sword of Gondolin reacted to the presence of an ancient foe of the elves. The Balrog turned at the yell, which gave the dwarf king a moment that he could have run for cover, but the stubborn King used the opportunity to attack the Balrog.

The Balrog didn't even flinch as the dwarf-made axe dug deeply into the shadowy body. Refocusing back on Náin, the Balrog slashed viciously with his fiery weapon, knocking the King flying before turning back to the approaching Istari.

Faykan slid to a halt a short way from the Balrog, throwing his arms wide with staff and sword aloft. "Go back to the Abyss!" the Istari commanded, and Draco heard those nearest to him gasp and the Balrog reared to its full height in anger. All around the dwarves were retreating, with a knot of elite warriors carrying their King, while the orcs fled behind the Balrog, opening a wide berth around the two Maiar.

The Balrog took a massive step forward, to which Faykan responded by brandishing Glamdring, "You cannot pass!" he yelled, raising his staff aloft, and conjuring a powerful shield around him. Draco could feel the magic pouring off the Istari from the ridge, and quivered at the strength being exhibited.

Flaming sword crashed upon the shield, and Draco shielded his eyes from the explosion of light as the shield withstood the crushing blow. Faykan yelled as his shield dissipated, but remained on his feet. The Balrog fell back a step, but roared its challenge at the smaller Istari.

"You shall not pass!" Faykan screamed, slamming his staff into the ground before him, while the jewel flared into blinding white. In fact, Draco had to blink his eyes to make sure he was seeing correctly, but Faykan's entire body started to shine with power, while the levels of magic started growing to an uncomfortable level.

"I will not allow you to harm another living creature, servant of Morgoth!" Faykan bellowed, his voice radiating power. "Behold the power of the servants of the Valar!" Faykan spoke, and his body was consumed by the blinding light, before starting to grow, swelling to the same size of the Balrog, only composed of light and lightning as opposed to the Balrog's fire and shadows.

The Balrog issued a challenging roar and threw himself at Faykan, who bellowed in response. Draco could only stand there, with Ron and the others as the full might of an Istari was unleashed, and the Balrog of light grappled with the one of shadows. Flame whip and Glamdring flashed and collided as they battled between the two armies.

The dark Balrog struck Faykan across the head, before kicked out to knock the empowered Istari away. Draco shivered as clouds started to gather and Faykan swung Glamdring through the air, causing lightning to spark and flash off the blade. The Balrog leapt at Faykan, who ducked his blow before stabbing with Glamdring, unleashing a torrent of lightning into the burning body.

The Balrog was flung backward, crashing into the stones of the mountain, and Faykan's form stood over it, "Fallen one!" he bellowed, voice resonating his power and authority, "You and your brethren abandoned your duty to follow Melkor the Morgoth, and for this treachery, you will pay the ultimate price!"

Faykan's eyes, already blue white with power, exploded brighter than ever, and from his hand wielding Glamdring a crimson light flashed, and he brought the sword of Gondolin down with a flash.

The Balrog of shadow roared in pain, and the flames died in an instant, before exploding and throwing Faykan across the valley, back toward the lines of dwarves. The Balrog of light shimmered as power faded from it, reverting back to Faykan's normal, seventeen year old form, and he staggered, falling to his knees from weariness.

Draco thought the day was won by the fall of the dark Balrog, but soon the armies of the orcs started to rally and surge forward again, and he gasped when he realized that Faykan was right in their path, weakened and possibly hurt.

"Fay!" he yelled, started to run forward, even as the dwarven armies surged to meet the orcs once again. It seemed that they wouldn't be able to reach Faykan before the orcs, when a massive blast shook the entire mountainside. "Attack! For the sons of Durin, attack!" bellowed a familiar voice.

Draco turned, just in time to see Harry and Hermione as the former charged into battle at the head of a small army of Beornings. The skin-changers crashed into the opening waves of orcs, buying Harry enough time to reach Faykan. The black haired boy hefted his friend into his arms and began pushing back through the advancing dwarves to Draco.

~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~

Hermione ran to Draco, among the contingent of human wizards, "Draco!" she called, panting as she skidded to a halt.

"Hermione," he replied, turning momentarily to her, "What do we need to do?" he questioned immediately.

"Press the attack," she said, holding a catch in her side. "Without the darkness of the Balrog they haven't a chance."

Draco nodded, before throwing out a hand toward the battle, signaling a bombardment from the surrounding wizards down on the breach in the mountain, from where hordes of orcs were retreating for cover.

Dwarves thundered into the fray behind the onslaught of the Beornings, but Hermione's attention was drawn to the crop of black hair that was pushing its way toward them. Harry, still carrying the unconscious Faykan, along with the boy's staff and Glamdring, stumbled up the last part of the ridge to them, struggling with carrying his friend as well as the weapons. Hermione took hold of the sapphire staff, while Ron came up and carefully took the elf blade, allowing Harry to shift Faykan's weight.

"We need to get Faykan away from here," Ron said, looking from their friends to the battle out across the valley, "the others can take the mountain without us easily enough. We've done our part, and Faykan ought to be the priority here…"

"I must remain," Harry said, "but you're right, Fay is too weak to remain here."

For once, Hermione wasn't upset that they were being sent away. Seeing the massive orcs as they slammed full force into the dwarven warrior was enough to unnerve even her. Wordlessly they accepted the portkey to transport them back to Orthanc, and together Hermione, Ron and Draco did what they could to stabilize Faykan's body as they traveled.

They landed on the pinnacle of Orthanc, both Ron and Draco took Faykan's shoulders and legs, and carefully they carried the boy Istari down to the master's room of the tower. As they laid Faykan upon him bed, Hermione carefully arranged the boy's head and limbs to prevent him from developing cramps when he did wake up. "How did this happen?" she asked confused.

When she and Harry had arrived, they saw the massive creatures of Light and Shadow, fighting each other until the being of light overcame the one of darkness, and transformed back into Faykan.

"It was a Balrog," Draco explained quickly, setting Glamdring and Faykan's staff to the side of the bed, "it emerged from the mountain when Faykan blasted it open, set upon the dwarves, and Faykan charged in to fight it."

"But, why did it take so much out of Faykan?" Hermione persisted, "Isn't it just another creature of our world? He's never had difficulty with any opponent before…"

"This wasn't the same," Draco continued, "the Balrog was not of this world, but a being like Faykan is, so it took almost all his power and energy to fight it."

They stood quietly for a moment, and Hermione let the concept of another being like Faykan sink in. She hadn't really considered that there could be others likes Faykan still in the world, especially after learning that the other Istari had either been slain or departed from Arda. For there to be even more, still around today, it was a frightening thought.

"And so this other one was evil, then?" she said softly.

"Thankfully, Faykan had tools to help overcome the Balrog, or else it would have quite possible been the end of them both." Draco replied.

"We ought to rest," Ron said, acting as the voice of reason, "It's been a long day, and Harry will be back soon. You may as well fill us in on what happened at Grimmauld Place Hermione, while we wait for him and the others to return."

Hermione nodded, after the day's events, a good rest sounded ideal.

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Harry waded through the battlefield, Hadhafang cleaving streams of black orc blood as he moved toward the gaping hole in the mountainside. The Balrog of Morgoth, its body still smoking with heat and lingering traces of fire, lay collapsed at the side of the gaping maw of the mountain, like a fallen guardian to the lower halls.

The Beornings would not enter the mountain depths, but stood as sentinels on either side, cleaving down orcs as they attempted to flee further inside. The dwarves held no such qualms about venturing into the mountain, and were pouring in like ants swarming a rival hive. Harry was about to enter himself, when a nearby Dwarf-lord called to him.

"Lord Calenrohtar, King Náin is summoning you…" Harry turned, and seeing the downcast expression on the warrior's face, obliged, allowing himself to be directed away from the front lines and back toward a hastily erected medical tent, where the King lay surrounded by his closest kin. Thráin of Erebor and Borin were there, along with many of their cousins, and they all turned as Harry approached.

"Is it the Istari," the King said weakly as his family parted, allowing Harry to see the old King, lying on what would soon be his deathbed. The old Dwarf was mortally wounded, cut deeply across the chest and belly, and scorched where the flames of the Balrog had touched him, but was clinging to life as desperately as any.

"Lord Calenrohtar…" Náin said shakily, fighting for breath between words, "You and Lord Alatar have fought honorably this day… Pray tell me that my people are safe from the dark power?"

"Yes," Harry affirmed, "the Balrog is slain, although Faykan had to be removed from the battlefield afterward."

"Lord Alatar is still alive I hope…" Náin asked, struggling against the wheezing cough that was slowly developing in the old King.

"He'll survive," Harry said confidently.

The old Dwarf smiled slightly, before turning his head back to his family, and beckoning them with his hand. "Thráin," he said weakly, and Harry saw the Lord of Erebor step forward grimly, "You must take up the leadership of our people my nephew, you are eldest, and I trust that you will lead the sons of Durin into a new golden age, with the return of the Kings of men. You shall be King, Under the Mountain…"

"I understand, Uncle," Thráin replied, bowing his head humbly. Náin turned to a much younger dwarf, "Fundin, You shall take my place as Lord of Moria when I am gone, your mother, my youngest sister, would have wanted it so…"

"Yes, Uncle," the younger dwarf said, tears forming as he watched a favored relative dying before him. Náin turned back to Harry at that point, "I wish that Lord Alatar was here, as I have much to answer for, and to ask forgiveness of him. I was brash, hotheaded and refused his counsel when he did not have to give it. Alatar has always had the best interests of our people in mind, even when I did not."

Náin groaned, trying to settle more comfortably, "Tell him… tell him…" he said, growing weaker, "Tell him… I'm sorry…"

"I will," Harry said.

Náin seemed to relax, and closed his eyes, before giving a massive sigh, and moved no more. "Uncle?" one of the dwarves said, even as Thráin touched the old King, "Uncle?"

"He's gone," Thráin said sadly, "the King is dead…"

Harry stood toward the rear of the tent, allowing the family their time to mourn the loss of their relative.

~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~

Voldemort scowled as he watched the destruction of Gundabad. The useless animals could even slaughter a weakened Istari. Even the Balrog entombed within the mountain wasn't capable of doing more than killing the Dwarf King, which was worthless with all the short person's relatives. They would simply choose a new King and move on.

A total failure all around; even the raid in the east and south were only partially successful at best, with Potter countering many of them with his vile new powers. It boiled the Dark Lord's blood to know that the boy had been gifted with power in copious amounts, power that he himself had worked and scraped to gain over his lifetime.

No one had the right to hold that much power, except for the Lord of the Earth, Voldemort, and that counted double for the Potter brat. From the mental connection that they shared, Voldemort knew a rough location of where the boy was hiding, but there was a Fidelius charm hiding the exact place. Nevertheless, the Dark Lord would update his assassins of the location, and allow the Dark Creatures to fulfill their orders.

But still, there was something wrong about how suddenly Potter came into his powers. It didn't add up for the boy to be so weak when he fought Dumbledore and this Lord Alatar in the Ministry, and only a year later for the child to be throwing magic around like a plaything.

If only he still had access to the Black libraries. Their records were the most complete of any pureblood family he had seen, which was why Tom Riddle had been so keen to befriend the heirs of that family. Nevertheless, there were other families with records of other powerful wizards, and how they had come into their power.

The Lord Voldemort would discover the secret; nothing about the magical world would ever stay hidden from him for long. In the end all the power in the world would come to his hand, and he would rule without opposition.

Abandoning the magical mirror, Voldemort turned instead to wander the halls of Malfoy's spacious manor, making his way to the library there. Inside, he found the one he was searching for. "Dear Bella," he purred, smiling inwardly as the mad witch turned with the look of an excited dog at the sound of his voice.

"Yes, my Lord?" he said, desire to please him obvious in her voice.

"Bellatrix," he continued, not listening to her simpering, "I require knowledge from the Black library, however our enemies have control on the Black family home."

"What would you have me do my Lord?" Bellatrix replied, bowing slightly, hunger to please in her eyes.

"I need the tomes that speak of the earliest appearance of Istari, especially those histories that have their dealings with powerful Lords and Ladies of the magical world." The Dark Lord commanded.

"I will do as you command my Lord," Bellatrix replied, "No matter what it takes, I'll find a way."

Lord Voldemort smiled, "I know you will," he said in a hushed voice, watching as the obsessed witch reacted instinctively to his attention.

Once the Dark Lord understood what was happening with Potter and this Istari, Alatar, all the quicker he would know how to destroy them, and with them all hope the world had would fail.

~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~

Several weeks after the battle of Gundabad past, and Faykan still hadn't awaken. Draco felt like he was going to go crazy with the effectual free time after so long jumping from battle to battle. There were so many times that he would hear small noises and want to spring into action, just to realize that it was something harmless.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were feeling the effects as well. From what he heard from Ron, Hermione was having traumatic nightmares from the heat of battle, while Ron himself was becoming increasingly irritable and restless, much like Draco.

Harry seemed more in control of himself, but at the same time he was withdrawing himself from them more and more, seeming to slip into his own little word at the strangest times. Draco knew that they ought to be pulling themselves together to accomplish something, but it was hard for them to feel motivated without Faykan.

Late in August, Draco finally had had enough of sitting around doing nothing. They were all down in the main chamber when Harry appeared from checking on Faykan.

"How is he?" Hermione asked, to which Harry just shook his head. "He's still the same; no response."

Draco slammed his hands on the arms of his chair, standing sharply, "I can't stand all this waiting around; we need to do something!"

"But what can we do?" Hermione said meekly, "Without Fay…"

"We've done things without Fay before!" Draco countered, "Umbridge has one of the Horcruxes, and she's in the Ministry, how hard could it be to plan a break in to get it off her?"

"With Voldemort in charge of the Ministry and Death Eaters in every Department, much harder than you think Draco…" Harry countered.

"I don't care!" Draco bellowed, "Voldemort is out there destroying the world, and we need to move forward in defeating him!"

"But…" Hermione started.

"Draco… is right…" came a voice from the stairs behind them

"Faykan!" they all cried, turning to see the boy up and walking, albeit limping and looking in great pain just to stand. Harry leapt up instantly to help his best friend down to the ground floor.

"We need to be planning the counter attack on the Ministry," Faykan said, speaking slowly and holding himself carefully to prevent too much jarring as he moved. "It won't be long before Voldemort attacks again, and we need to push our every advantage. A defensive war is not going to work against the madman. But in this condition I won't be too much help with the planning if you want me to assist with its execution in any way."

"Right," Hermione said, standing slowly and removing dust from herself, "We'll need surveillance on the Ministry to find a weakness we can exploit to get inside. From there it's all a matter of making sure that we get in and out without attracting unwanted attention."

"I can get the surveillance via the Crebain," Harry said, starting to lead Faykan back to the stairs, "but first you need to return to bed, you're still too weak to do much of help at the moment."

Faykan huffed at the babying manner that Harry adopted, but went along without complaint. "So, will we be infiltrating or assaulting?" Ron asked, approaching Hermione. As they started to strategize plans and contingencies, Draco took the moment to observe the ignited fire that had sparked in them all once Faykan had reawakened.

It was as thought a light had burst suddenly into flame again, some fire from within that motivated them all to fight on that just wasn't the same without the young-appearing Istari. It was like some magic that only Faykan possessed.

They each had their own special talents that they brought to the group, but it seemed as though Faykan was their heart, uniting them in a common goal and under the same banner.

Whatever the strange occurrence, Draco had accomplished what he set for, and now they had purpose again. For the next three weeks they worked with a burning desire, preparing and planning for any occurrence, and for whatever they may encounter inside. From what it seemed that Ron and Hermione's were scheming, the Ministry wouldn't know what hit it when they were finished.

In the meantime, word came from Bode out of the Department of Mysteries, which was still holding strong against the rest of the corruption in the Voldemort controlled Ministry. Professor Snape had been confirmed as the Ministry's choice to become the new Headmaster of Hogwarts. The Unspeakable had included with his report a cutting from the most recent edition of the 'Daily Prophet,' which had a small article dedicated to the story.

'Severus Snape, long-standing Potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was today appointed Headmaster in the most important of several staffing changes at the ancient school. Following the resignation of the previous Muggle Studies teacher, Alecto Carrow will take over the post while her brother, Amycus, fills the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.'

After reading it, Hermione had shot to her feet, "This changes everything!" she declared, rounding on Mr. Bode, "We can use the Department of Mysteries to enter the Ministry correct?" she asked hurriedly.

Bode paused, "Yes it would be a backdoor inside, if you needed that sort of a route… but why would you of all people want to get inside the Ministry?"

"Many reasons, all relevant to winning the war Broderick." Harry explained quickly before returning his attention to Hermione, "A complete reworking of the invasion plan I presume?"

Hermione nodded, "We need to go back to Grimmauld Place also, there's something there we can use to contact Professor Snape. More intelligence inside Hogwarts could only help us."

"All right, we can go now," Harry said, reaching for her. Hermione took his hand and in a flash they were gone.

"Sometimes I just can't understand how that girl's mind works…" Ron said weakly, shaking his head.

~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~

Hermione sprinted away from Harry the moment they landed in Grimmauld place, ignoring the raving of Mrs. Black or Kreacher call for no running in the halls. She knew exactly where she needed to go. If all routes for information into Hogwarts were blocked by student means, she knew that any openings would lie with the Headmaster. And with Professor Snape in the office now, they had a surefire method to communicate back and forth.

Storming into the bedroom that Harry, Faykan and Ron had shared for slightly over a year, she turned to the painting of Phineas Nigellus Black that was hanging there. "You there, girl," he said as the Slytherin Headmaster spotted her, "I have a message for you and your friends from Headmaster Severus Snape."

Hermione smiled, having expected this. The Death Eaters had expected them to hide out in the Black family home, and they had the Order circulating the rumor to their advantage. "I figured the Professor would attempt this method before we even thought of it." Hermione said, "I'll take you back to the others, so you can deliver Professor Snape's message to us all."

Taking the portrait down from the wall, Hermione hurried to return to Harry, but a resounding crash echoed through the house, followed by some sickeningly familiar laughter.

"It is so good to be home!" cackled Bellatrix LeStrange.

"Hermione! Run!" Harry yelled, and she heard the blast of spell fire. As she ran for the farthest room from the battle, Hermione wondered how the mad witch could have gotten past the Fidelius Charm.

sul ar' litse en' i' arda, ona varna i' gwaith en' i' kemen : wind and sand of the world, gift safe the people of the earth

Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu! : The axes of the dwarves! The dwarves are upon you!