Tuesday Eve has come again, and come, sit by this fire, (computer generated or real, no biggie,) and enjoy another segment of the fantastic tale of our brave heroes, and their quest to stop the madness of a Dark Lord bent on conquering the world.

Chapter Ten

Work and Rest

Severus was exhausted as he returned to the Headmaster's tower at the end of the day. His mark had been burning from the Dark Lord's persistent anger the entire afternoon, and even though he no longer was teaching any classes, the stress of managing the children still fell heavily on him, albeit for far different reasons than before.

So returning to this study to hear the voice of Phineas Nigellus Black calling him was met with mixed emotions. Naturally hearing from the other Slytherin Headmaster was a positive sign of Harry's group, especially when they were requesting his assistance, but at the same time, with all the stresses and forces perceptions that he had to perform and endure, adding one more thing to the list was not something he wanted at the moment.

Once he heard what the request was, and why, Severus had to sit down. Inside information about Malfoy Manor, there could be only one reason that they would want to know about that darkened place. But to attack the Dark Lord's fortress and seat of power was not wise. Not only was the Dark Lord himself present to complicate any attempted assault, but there were legions of orcs in residence now. How Lucius put up with the desecration of his home Severus never understood, but if Narcissa hadn't already left him, she would have done so now.

However, there just might be a way for Severus to limit the likelihood that they faced the Dark Lord at Malfoy Manor, given that they could get inside on their own. Severus himself could go there as an invited guest, but he could not bring others with him, nor could he divulge the secret location of the base.

Quickly dictating a reply to Phineas Nigellus, Severus started to plan how he would manage to distract the Dark Lord long enough for an attack to happen, without giving away his divided loyalties and being killed by the man in the process.

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When Draco finally awoke again, he was surprised to find Faykan sitting in his room, calmly reading from one of the many books that had come from his Hogwart's trunk. "Fay…" Draco said as he turned to face him.

"Good afternoon Draco," Faykan replied, and Draco had to check the time, shocked that he had slept for so long, "You seem to have truly needed your rest from you adventure in the bowels of Gringotts," Faykan commented with a small smile.

"I guess…" Draco responded, uncertain why Faykan was waiting for him specifically.

Faykan seemed to sense Draco's unease, because he closed the book and turned to face him with a deathly serious look.

"Draco, I need to ask something of you that may be both difficult and perhaps very painful for you to hear." Faykan said.

"What is it?" Draco asked nervously, unsure if he wanted to know what was wanted on him.

If anything, Faykan seemed to grow more serious, "We're losing this war Draco, Voldemort is able to strike at our allies and weak points, while we can do little more than defend and prevent loss of innocent life. We need a turning point Draco and there is only one major base of operations that Voldemort controls that I am aware of."

Draco's eye widened as he realized where the line of thought was going, "Malfoy Manor…"

"Yes," Faykan affirmed, "While I am certain that Lucius has blocked me from entering his family home, your status as his blood child grants you rights to enter his home, against his wishes or not. No family house, once tied to the blood of that family, can reject one of its own. You can lead us there, and we can strike a blow to Voldemort that he will have difficulty recovering from."

Feeling the pressure of the request, Draco sat in silence for several long moments. "I wouldn't place this kind of decision upon you unless I felt it was absolutely necessary Draco," Faykan said sadly, "I know that Lucius still loves you, and you him regardless of the rift between you both. Betraying a family trust is a deep and abiding blow, but I ask you to look beyond yourself to the good of the wizarding world instead."

Faykan stood, nodding once slowly, "I will give you time to think about our need, but we don't have the time for you to contemplate it for too long. The more we wait and fight on the defensive, the stronger Voldemort's grasp on our world becomes."

Draco barely heard Faykan's words, nor the soft click as the door closed behind the Istari, so lost in his own thoughts. All pureblood families operated by a strict level of guidelines when it came to family property and rifts. If Draco led warriors of an opposing faction to his father's house, that could be seen as the deepest of betrayals to his old family name and way of life.

But at the same time, he understood why Faykan had had to come to him for this, and there was indeed little option if they wanted to actually attack Voldemort's holdings for a change. Much as it pained him to do so, he must confront his family, the banishment from it, and his entire past life in one fell swoop, striking deeply to rid their family of the stain placed there by Voldemort.

There was no getting around the fact that Voldemort needed to be stopped at all costs, even at the lost of home and family. Draco understood and accepted this, even as much as he didn't like it. Gathering his resolve, Draco stood. If his actions could spare others from this same fate, then he would gladly sacrifice what was left of his old family's honor.

Faykan, along with the others were waiting in an upper library of Orthanc. "I've decided to help you with the location of Malfoy Manor," he said slowly.

Hermione and Ron looked surprised at his announcement, but Harry and Faykan shared identical looks of understanding and acceptance. "Thank you Draco," Faykan replied, "now our planning for the turning of the tide of this war can begin."

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Voldemort was overall pleased with the effectiveness of Bellatrix's attack on the goblin bank and subsequent rebuff of the Light's counter attack. The fact that Potter was injured and sent away from the battlefield was a bonus, as it bought the shadow hunters time to close in on their base of operation.

The attack on the ministry was an excellent stepping stone to the Light's inevitable defeat, as all three groups had managed to acquire the required samples from Potter to track him wherever he fled to. Soon their little fortress would be eliminated, and the largest resistance to his rule would be shattered.

In the meantime, he was free to continue the campaign against the rest of Europe. It had already begun, as his vast hordes crossed the channel into the surrounding nations, lead by the Dark Lord himself. He had led his followers and armies from the shadows for long enough.

Abdurahman would accompany him, and as they carved a blazing path across Europe the pair of practiced necromancers would raise legions of inferi to bolster his armies. Lucius was suitably trustworthy enough to lead while he was expanding his new empire of darkness, while Bellatrix acted as enforcer of his will. With Severus and the Carrows at Hogwarts, there was little the citizens of wizarding Britain would dare to do to oppose him.

Even still, the Dark Lord of the Earth was cautious. He specifically left a significant number of warriors in Britain, centered on the Malfoy's manor house as a defense. He knew that there were many factors left in Britain that, if they happened to work together, could topple his powerbase while he was away. Lord Voldemort would not leave that to chance, however slight.

But now, as he stood upon the wide fields before the French boarders, an army of orcs and battle trolls at his back, he could not help but push the thoughts of Britain from his mind. The land would be covered in darkness, by his own hand, and the world would learn that he, Voldemort, was its master. The ring upon his hand glowed fiercely in the predawn gloom, and the Dark Lord smiled at his approaching victory.

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Hermione was almost frightened at the pace that Harry and Faykan worked once Draco announced his willingness to reveal the location of his family's manor. Plans and maps, all magically generated, piled up on various tables and creeping along the floor as they made strategies and contingencies for every possibility.

Day after day the pair was locked away in the upper libraries, pouring over every scrap of information that Draco and Faykan had regarding the layout of Malfoy Manor, and its strengths and weaknesses. Ron help occasionally, but even he admitted to Hermione that some of the tactics they were discussing were levels far above and beyond anything he would consider for one battle.

It was almost as if the pair expected every bad event possible to occur all at once. Hermione wasn't sure if it was merely an intense desire to save as many lives in the coming battle that was likely to be very costly, but it was breaching the line of an obsession, and clearly unhealthy for them both to be sequestered like that. War or no war, Christmas was approaching, and Hermione felt that they needed to do something to raise their spirits.

At the same time, while she thought it would be good to celebrate with all those at Orthanc, they desperately needed time to themselves, away from the war, and the responsibility, if only for a single evening.

That was how she started formulating her little plan. For all intents and purposes, neither Faykan or Harry hinted at this battle taking place sooner than the new year, so a small side trip to a small partially wizarding village for Christmas Eve would be a simply thing to slip in, she thought.

Even Phineas Nigellus Black had kept them all up to date with the goings on at Hogwarts, pleased that so many Gryffindors were in full support of a Slytherin Headmaster. Severus had reinstated several of Umbridge's old decrees, public supporting the Death Eater Professors in trying to crush any resistance among the student body. But, secretly, he was directing the counterattacks of the reborn Dumbledore's Army, causing havoc enough at the school to keep the Carrows preoccupied and unaware of his own actions.

In addition, they had learned that Voldemort had gone abroad, taking his campaign to the main continent, and marching with his hordes upon the nearest nations. While they sent messages as rapidly as they could to warn these nations and people of the advancing darkness, there was little they could do to head off and assault Voldemort and his army head on, not without the Horcruxes destroyed so that the monster could be killed once and for all.

It was all the more reason for them to take this small reprieve, while they still had the chance. The attack on Malfoy Manor would no doubt return all of Voldemort's attention to Britain, bringing him back with all his forces, and they would remain in a constant state of open war until it was all over.

Ron and Draco had listened to her plan, and agreed completely, including her chosen location, but the hardest part yet remained, convincing Faykan and Harry to put aside one day, or even just an evening, to relax.

Hermione approached the pair a few days before Christmas, nervous at how they'd react to the idea of relaxing during the holiday.

"Yes Hermione," Harry asked as she entered, without looking up from the large floor plan of Malfoy Manor, "What can we do for you?"

"Harry, Faykan," Hermione started, looking at both on them and waiting until they paused to meet her eyes, "We all know how important this coming battle is, and the complicated requirements that need to go into it, however is nearly Christmas. Ron, Draco and I all think we need to take some time, an evening at the least, and unwind, allow our minds to relax and rest. That's just as important as our battle plans, is it not?"

She watched as the pair of powerful wizards shared a meaning filled glance, before both smiled warmly, "You are indeed most correct Hermione, as always. We need to prepare ourselves just as much as our strategies or soldiers, and a small venture out into the fresh air may give us fresh ideas as well for the latter."

Hermione smiled, "It's settled then. Don't worry about a thing on Christmas, I have it all planned out…"

Harry laughed softly, "I'm not surprised, but thank you Hermione."

Faykan also smiled, "It will be nice to have a relaxing day for a change."

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Harry could actually say that he was excited for Christmas for once in his life. the long process of day in and day out planning for the assault of Malfoy Manor was a draining process, but between himself and Faykan, they had managed to prepare what forces would be best to bring, where to deploy them, and how to react to almost all foreseeable countermeasures.

Now however, it was time for them all to prepare mentally for the coming conflict. On the appointed day; Christmas Eve, they had a large celebration during the day for all those at Orthanc, to allow them to rest from their many labors in keeping the camp running, and indulge in games and gift giving. But the best part was yet to come.

That evening, Harry, Faykan, Ron and Draco all met Hermione on the roof of Orthanc, where she held a small token that pulsed with transportation magic. Offering them the Portkey, she smiled quietly, teasing them to try and guess where they were going to go.

Rather than simply humor her, Harry and Faykan took hold of the Portkey, waiting to be surprised by the location of their small getaway. In a flash of light and a whirling of colors they were off. When they finally landed, Harry immediately recognized the colder air of Britain, and snow beneath his feet.

They were standing in a snowy lane under a rapidly darkening sky, with a blanket of stars overhead just starting to twinkle into sight. Cottages stood on either side of the narrow road, Christmas decorations glowing softly in the windows. A short way ahead, golden streetlights indicated a small village center.

"So, spill Hermione, where are we?" Faykan asked, bemused at how long they had kept the secret.

"Godric's Hollow," Hermione responded delightedly, and Harry's heart skipped a beat. Godric's Hollow was where his parent's had lived before Voldemort attack and destroyed his family. They had been here only once before, for the short ceremony after Sirius' death.

"So that means," he said, trailing off as he looked around for the small church that housed the cemetery where most of his loved ones laid to rest. Starting forward through the snow, he barely felt the icy air stinging his face as he passed house after house. He had no memory of the home he had lived in here, and it could have been any of these that they passed, or if he'd be able to see it at all. If the Fidelius Charm still was in effect, could the house have simply disappeared forever when the subjects of the spell died within?

The lane they were walking along curved gently to the left, and opened up into the village center proper, with a war memorial in the middle of it, strung with colored lights and partly obscured by a windblown Christmas tree.

The last few remaining people were closing up their shops and heading home as the sun dipped below the horizon, illuminated by the streetlamps. A nearby pub's door opened and closed again, and there was a snatch of laughter and pop music from within before near silence took over the village once again.

And then Harry saw it, the little church that they had come to two summers ago. A sense of longing filled him, as he started toward the building instinctively, Faykan and the others following close behind. They all paused halfway across the square however, when the war memorial shimmered out of the corner of their eyes.

Turning to look at it, Harry gaped as he saw that the obelisk covered with names was replaced by a statue of three people: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting in his mother's arms. Snow lay upon all their heads, like fluffy white caps.

Drawn closer by curiosity, Harry gazed up into the faces of his parents. He had never imagined a statue being here for them, and for a few moments he thought about how strange it was to see himself represented in stone, a happy baby with no scar on his forehead. A profound sadness filled the air as he wondered what might have happened if Voldemort had never entered his or his parent's lives.

Turning back to the church after he had looked his fill, Harry led the others across the road and toward side gate that led around the building. The sounds of singing grew louder as they approached the open doors of the church. Harry was reminded of Hogwarts for a moment, with the statues and suits of armor that would sing, albeit poorly, around this time of year, and he wondered how the other students were faring under the oppression of Voldemort's servants.

They opened the rusty gate to the graveyard, setting off on the slippery path through the fields of snow that lay deep and untouched. As they entered the back part of the church, where the graves lay, Harry suddenly realized that he had no memory of exactly where his parents and Sirius' graves were located.

"This way," Faykan said softly, pointing out to the rear of the rows of graves. They set off, wading deeper and deeper into the churchyard, and gouging deep tracks into the thickening snow behind them. Every so often Hermione or Draco would stop and look at a grave that they passed, but Faykan proceeded directly to a secluded nook of the yard, and pointed to a large, white marble headstone, with a smaller stone on the left side and an empty plot on the right.

"There," Faykan said, stepping back and allowing Harry privacy as he looked at the final resting place of his family. Harry remembered the exact words that had been written there, on both his parents and Sirius' tombstones, burned into his mind since that day two years ago that he saw them for the first time.

'James Potter

Born 27 March 1960

Died 31 October 1981'

'Lily Potter

Born 30 January 1960

Died 31 October 1981'

'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.'

And the second read,

'Sirius 'Padfoot' Black

Born August 25 1959

Died June 18 1996

Mischief Managed'

Reading the words this time didn't bring tears or pain for Harry. Instead, it was more of a comfort, as his vision of what the world was like had expanded beyond measure since he was last here. He understood know what was meant by his parent's quotation on their tombstone. Death was not the end-all enemy that Voldemort believed it to be, not some nameless fear that resided in the hearts of men.

Death was just another path, a doorway that all must pass eventually, and beyond that lay a brighter future than the one left behind. And that thought gave him peace. Turning back to face his friends, he smiled. "Thank you for bringing us here, Hermione. It means quite a lot to me." He said warmly.

Pointing her wand, Hermione smiled back as she conjured a wreath of flowers over Lily and James' grave, while Faykan did the same for Sirius. After a few additional moments of silence, Harry turned back toward the gate back to the front of the church, and started to walk back to the village center.

But, just as he reached the gate, something shifted in the air, and Harry froze. There was far too much magic in the village now, much more than when they had first arrived.

"Harry, what is it?" Draco asked, looking between him and Faykan, who had also gone stiff.

"We're not alone…" Harry said carefully, readying his weapons. The others immediately followed, Ron, Draco and Hermione casting silencing and notice-me-not charms at the nearby buildings to protect the muggles dwelling within from coming outside to the probable battle.

Harry silently mourned that even their one day of rest was to be stained by battle and war, but it was unavoidable. With as much of the village as they could reach from the cemetery protected, they cautiously ventured out into the main village square. Dark creatures were already there, waiting for them. The leader, who Harry recognized as Fenrir Greyback, smiled toothily as they came into view.

"Well, looks like our prey has finally come out to play…" he taunted, motioning for his fellow werewolves to advance. They were a grisly lot, with filthy, unkempt bodies that reeked of blood and sweat, and Harry knew that any wounds from these were sure to be infectious of the disease. Greyback would have made certain of that for his pack.

Keeping in a tight formation, Harry raised his staff. He would not permit his friends, the only loved ones he truly had left, from death or a life ridden with pain and anguish from the werewolf's curse. The emerald atop his staff blazed with a brilliant light, responding to his determination and force of will.

The first werewolf to try and cross him was met with a blast of power that sent the large man flying back into his fellows. Battle began in earnest, Harry and his companions bringing all their fury and weapons to bear. The weapons of the elves, made of Moria-silver, flashed with blue fire and burned the dark creatures where they were struck.

The werewolves howled and snarled, but kept coming, driven by a fiery passion to slay them, and Harry knew that eventually some innocent would be drawn to the noise of battle, and caught in the crossfire. This he could not allow. With an earth-shattering crack, he slammed his staff into the ground, knocking all the werewolves from their feet, and lashed out with Hadhafang. Flames, red orange and blue white flew out in a great ring, scorching their foes and forcing the werewolves to back off in fear of the blessed fire.

Something lunged just then from the shadows, aimed directly for Harry's heart. "Harry!" Draco yelled, throwing himself in the way. Andúril blazed as it carved a path through the air, splitting the massive snake in two as it tried to attack. Shadowy darkness erupted from the severed body, screaming in the night as it fled into the sky.

The werewolves cringed at the sound, before a brilliant flash from Faykan's staff destroyed their remaining resolve, and they fled.

Harry turned to Draco, who was looking curiously at the blackened stain on Andúril's blade. "Draco," he said, pausing at a loss for words. There was no doubt that the creature that had leapt at him was Nagini, the serpent familiar and Horcrux of Voldemort.

"Four down, two to go…" Draco said, smirking back.

Harry nodded. They were one step closer to beating Voldemort. "We ought to return to Orthanc, before Greyback decides to try again." Faykan said, before quickly ushering them back to a vacant alleyway, and taking the portkey back to the secured vale of Isengard.

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Voldemort paused for a moment in midst of his glorious attack of the first of the French magical communities. A strange sensation had come over him, but by the time he noticed it had passed. Most strange, but the Dark Lord of the Earth had more important concerns than a fleeting sensation in his physical body to deal with. He was immortal, and there was nothing on this earth that could truly harm him. He continued his slaughter with vigor, relishing the outlet for all his irritations over the past sixteen years.

Nevertheless, he had a small inkling that his personal enemies back in the homeland were up to something. His ring of power pulsed at the thought, seeming to affirm his suspicion that he must be cautious regarding allowing his servants, who had already proved themselves incompetent, run his country. Once he was finished here therefore, the Dark Lord would return to Britain, and crush those foolish resistors personally, once and for all.

Striding through the sea of rubble and corpses, Voldemort struck down two French wizards with little more than a flick of his wand, still intently lost in his own musings. These peasants were no match for him, and their pain and suffering would only postpone his rage until he at last had Potter trampled underfoot. Once they boy was at last slain, the rest of the world would fall, with none capable to rise up against him. Darkness would consume the world, and he would reign over it forever.

Yes, things must be accelerated to that end. His servants were not performing as they had promised, and Lord Voldemort was greatly displeased with them. He could not afford to be patient enough to wait for the shadow hunters any longer, they had had plenty of time to find, track and eliminate Potter by now, and the continued fight that they boy's forces put up was testament to the hunters' failure. Lord Voldemort would carve a blazing path across the whole of the west if he had to, and flush those rats out of their hiding place once and for all.

And once they did, they would taste the vengeance of the Dark Lord of the Earth, the only being able to withstand death and the only man worthy of ruling this pitiful speck of dust.

Smirking with suppressed delight, Lord Voldemort raised his wand, signaling to his forces to redouble their attack on the village. The sooner it fell, the quicker they could move on, and press forward to the main Wizarding district of the southern country. The Dark Mark flashed into the sky as terror descended upon the residents of the French countryside. They would know that their new Lord had come, and they would surrender or die by his hand.

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Draco sought our Hermione shortly after Boxing Day, when the excitement and misfortune of their adventure in Godric's Hollow had finally blown over. Faykan and Harry both threw themselves back into their work, but now they not only focused on the assault of Malfoy Manor, but seeking out how these dark creatures had been tracking them, and what measures could be taken to prevent them from continuing to do so.

Hermione had retreated to the small balcony midway up the spire of Orthanc, and Draco was not surprised to find her there with a book in her hands. Clearly the effects of the attack on their day of rest had had much the same effect on her as the two powerful wizards. As Draco approached, she sighed, setting the book aside and staring out over the line of trees to the east.

"Knut for your thoughts Hermione?" Draco asked, peering at the book she had set aside, and wrinkling his brow in confusion when he saw it was the 'Tales of Beedle the Bard.'

"I just don't understand why there is this symbol here in this book," she said after looking at his concerned face. Hefting the storybook again she flipped through the pages, stopping at the beginning of the 'tale of three brothers.' once there, she pointed to a clearly hand written symbol at the top corner of the page, a vertical line set within a circle, all surrounded by a triangle.

"I have never no idea what that symbol could mean," Draco admitted, shaking his head. But at the same time, he was sure he had seen it somewhere before, but he couldn't place it.

"It just seems so familiar," Hermione said, echoing Draco's own thoughts. "Have you brought this to Faykan or Harry, perhaps they have some idea." he asked, but the girl shook he rhead.

"No, it doesn't seem that important compared to what they're doing, even if it was something in the book that Dumbledore left for me..."

"What's in the book Dumbledore left for you?" said a voice behind them. Turning, Draco spotted Harry and Faykan walking toward them from the spiral staircase at the center of the tower. Apparently they decided to start taking breaks and socializing with the rest of them. It was a positive change since Godric's Hollow, and Draco was glad for it.

"This," Hermione said, showing Faykan the symbol in the book. The Istari frowned, tracing the symbol and thinking hard. "It is of little consequence to our mission," he said after a moment.

"What is it?" Draco asked, looking at Faykan. The black haired boy sat in a spare chair, pulling out his pipe and looking down onto the wide lawns before the tower. Down in the camp, Ron was training several of the older boys from the refugees with martial weapons, acting for all accounts like a seasoned general before his troops.

"It's a symbol tied with the legend of the Deathly Hallows," Faykan said after lighting his pipe and taking a long pull, sending the smoke floating gently into the cool Germanic sky.

"Much as many legends and fairy tales of times long past, some people believe that the tale of three brothers was in fact a true account, referring to the Peverell brothers, and their encounter with beings that were beyond their imaging, whom wizards pursuing the story only refer to as Death."

Faykan took another long drag on the pipe, sending a perfect smoke ring floating over the balcony, "Legend says that these three brothers, Antioch, Cadmus and Ignortus, received gifts from Death for an act that defied his powers. A wand that could not be defeated in battle, a stone that could call the dead back to this world, and a cloak that would conceal the wearer perfectly, with no flaws to tarnish it or damage that age could cause it."

Draco felt that there was yet more, even as Faykan fell silent. Hermione clearly felt the same, as she pressed further, "You seem to be well informed about this particular theory Fay, is there more that perhaps time had forgotten?"

Faykan smiled as he faced her, "Now you are asking true questions regarding this. I do indeed know much, much more about this story, as I was there. The three wizards, much as the tale tells, used their powers to cross a river, but what time has forgotten was that it was in actually a flood that they prevented from wiping out countless innocent people, wizard and muggle alike. The Peverall brothers were great heroes, Champions of the Light, and dear friends."

Faykan paused in reflection, smiling at the memory of the three brothers. "They met not death at that time, but we, the remaining Istari, the greatest sorcerers that walked the earth at the time, I, Palando the Cyan, and Radagast the Brown. We were journeying to see off our beloved ally, Radagast, who had fulfilled his mission for the Valar, and was to return home to the lands of the West, when we witnessed these heroes in action once again. Seeing their light and purity, we revealed ourselves to them, and presented them with gifts for their courage and selflessness."

Withdrawing a wand from his robes, Faykan held it up to the light, "Radagast gave his own staff to Antioch, whose skill and wisdom we had not seen in countless lifetimes. Palando created from his own cloak, a shroud of concealment that could never be countered by mortal magic, and presented it to Ignotus, to help protect them from those who would seek to stop their noble work. And I..." Faykan paused, growing quiet as he relived the tale, "I took a stone washed smooth from the flood, and enchanted it with powers to create echoes of the dead, so that the three brothers could right the wrongs of the world, be guardians of justice and peace, much as we were."

Turning the wand in his hand, Faykan displayed, carved in the very bottom, the same symbol that was in Hermione's book. "Alas, things fade with time, and the three brothers went the way of all the earth, two caught by their own folly and mortality. Only Ignotus held true to the end of his days, and passed his gift down to his sons."

Deep sadness filled Faykan's face, "The stone fell out of all memory, although it too was passed down to Cadmus' heirs, they had no knowledge of what it could do or where it had come. And saddest of all was the fate of poor Antioch. The mighty man of justice was cut down by treachery, by those he supposed were his friends, over the tool that he was given by Radagast. That act tainted the focus, and its passing through history has been both bloody and terrible, until it finally found its way back into my possession."

"That was Dumbledore's wand, wasn't it," Harry said, nodding at the item in Faykan's hand.

"Yes," Faykan affirmed, "and he is to be the final mortal owner of the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick, or Elder Wand as it has been know of in the past. I will keep it until the end of my days, so that no more sorrow or blood will be shed by it ever again. Radagast would be devastated to know that his gift to men had been used for so much evil."

"What became of the other two?" Hermione asked, "Where are they now?"

"One is here with us now, and the other I know not what became of it." Faykan responded, smiling. "Care to guess?" he teased. Hermione looked baffled at the challenge, but Draco thought hard, a cloak and a stone, he knew he had seen one of them before among them... then it hit him, "Harry's cloak," he said, and Faykan smiled in response, "Indeed. Ignotus respected and used his gift wisely, before it passed from father to son down through the ages, down to the Potters."

They all sat in silence for several moments, just drinking in the wonder of the information they'd been told, but Faykan eventually cleared his throat, "As I said, it makes no difference to us in the long run, Albus had no means of knowing that the Deathly Hallows were not what rumor and legend said they were. The Master of Death nonsense came much later, when treasure seekers found the story and dreamed of artifacts containing great power. Right now we need to focus on the here and now, planning for the future, and not times long past."

Draco saw the wisdom in Faykan words, but at the same time it had been nice to think, even for a moment, of some magical artifacts that could have countered Voldemort and his Horcruxes; Hallows versus Horcruxes in a battle of light and darkness. It couldn't have been more poetic, but at the same time, even without the Hallows or their mystical abilities, they had plenty of Light on their side as it was. They had to win, and Draco knew that he must play an important role in the downfall of the Dark Lord, he just wasn't sure where or when that part would reveal itself.