The owl fluttered through the open window, landing softly on her desk. It was early, so it could only be the latest Daily Prophet article. It would be interesting to see how they portrayed the current events. Whose side would they take? It was obvious that there was a power play in motion, between the Minister and unknowingly, the Boy-Who-Lived. It was more of the Minister of course, struggling to stay in power, and to hold onto some semblance of power. Unfortunately, he had tried, and still was trying to do so at the expense of a young man.

It was despicable. She put those thoughts aside to continue to read.

MINISTRY LIES! Is Cornelius Fudge Ushering Us Into a new Dark Era?

This reporter received a shocking exclusive from the normally media shy Boy-Who-Lived. The hero practically begged me to sit with him, and I am happy that I did.

Just a short time ago, we found ourselves realizing the truth in that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has indeed returned from the dead. This, as my readers are aware, is a complete turnaround from what the Minister has been claiming for the past year. This paper, too, was guilty of not believing the words of Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter.

It almost makes one wonder what the Ministry gained from concealing his return. The Minister, of course, was not available to comment. But sources close to the Minster's office claim that there had not been any substantial proof as to the return of wizard. The Minister believed, according to the source, that Potter was attempting to gather more attention and political sway for Dumbledore.

"It is well documented that Dumbledore wants the Minister's position." The unnamed source continued. This reporter would like to note the numerous occasions in which the Headmaster declined the position, always believing that he was home at Hogwarts.

We must ask ourselves how can we continue to support a MInister that ignores potentially dangerous information. A suitable peacetime Minister, but there can be no way that Cornelius Fudge is the Minister to lead us through these dark times. Indeed, the Ministry is in shambles and in no position to protect its citizens.

In another power attempt, Minister Fudge convened the entire Wizengamot to hold a trial in regards to the actions of Mr. Harry Potter in this past June. For those unaware, there was rumored to be a large battle underneath the Ministry before the Battle of the Atrium in which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted. This was not the first time that the entire governing body of Britain was convened to seek to punish Mr. Potter. Just the previous summer, Mr. Potter was cited for creating a Patronus charm in front of his Muggle cousin. When questioned, Ministry officials refused to comment.

Readers, it gets worse. This is not the only time that our Minister has found it prudent to bury information. A year ago, in the confusion after the Tri-Wizard tournament, it was revealed that Master Auror, Alastor Moody had been captured and had been replaced by Barty Crouch Jr. using Polyjuice. Upon viewing the evidence, again revealed by Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter, Minister Fudge had a Dementor swoop in and administer "justice". Could the information held in the head of Crouch Jr. have been what this country needed to prevent the power of You-Know-Who.

When asked about the possible motives behind the actions of the Minister, Mr. Potter had this to say:

"I honestly don't know. Maybe the Minister does not have the strength of will to battle Lord V - (Mr. Potter insisted on using the name). I want to know what he is hiding? I just want to live, go to school, and have fun with my friends. Instead, two summers in a row, I am brought before the Wizengamot due to protecting my life and the lives of others. It's strange really. Even the Daily Prophet spent the entire year calling me crazy. The people need someone to rally around. Is that really Cornelius Fudge. I am all for his removal from the highest seat in government. We need someone that we can trust to have our best interest at heart."

Well said from our young hero. When asked who he would replace the Minister with, Mr. Potter had this to say.

"I'm just an underaged wizard." He stated with a near chuckle. When pressed, he looked thoughtful before continuing, "How about Arthur Weasley? He's a good guy. Or even Madame Bones, she seems to be a fair and level headed witch."

It would seem that Mr. Potter is not so concerned with the political side of things as he is with his own personal life. Indeed, he is an underaged wizard. But his accomplishments rival that of some of the oldest in the world.

It is time for Minister Fudge to step aside? If so, who can we trust to lead us. I managed to find a few moments with both Arthur Weasley and Madame Bones.

"Me as Minister? I don't know. Harry has always been able to see the good in others, even before they can. Whoever has his backing, well… I would think they have a good shot at succeeding." Came the response from the Patriarch of the Weasley family.

Madame Bones voiced a similar opinion, "It is because he does not have experience in politics, that Mr. Potter can make such recommendations. Being in the actual position, though, is completely different. I too believe that a change is necessary. It will be a matter of what's best for the country.". With several departments heads voicing their doubts in the Minister and his decision making, it seems to be just a matter of time before a replacement is needed.

This reporter will keep a close eye on proceedings. Until next time.

Rita Skeeter

She put the paper down. She was happy that Skeeter had managed to get all of her quotes correct. It had infuriated her of course, when she had found out that Mr. Potter thought she would make a suitable Minister. It made her want to reach out and strangle the boy for putting the thought in the head of a reporter. And yet, it was possibly just what was needed. Harry Potter was at an all time high for the moment, and it would be wise to not make an enemy of him. Despite not living in the political world, he was very savvy in his choice of articles. It would force her to make sure she paid even more attention to the Boy-Who-Lived.

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Lord Voldemort sipped from a smoking goblet, contemplating his plans. It was bittersweet that Fudge was nearly on his way out of office, but he knew that such a situation could not hope to last. Fudge wasn't exactly a supporter, but his being in the highest public office had worked very well. He was greedy, and his greed had done nothing but secure his place in the government, while pushing forth the Pureblood agenda.

"The poor bastard didn't even see it coming." Voldemort whispered to himself. Fudge would need to be replaced of course, but until then, the change of leadership could work to his advantage. He needed to secure the rest of his followers, and branch out to the factions that he knew to be sympathetic to his cause. This time it would be different, he was certain of it. He would no longer underestimate the forces posed against him.

He had often wondered about the happenings of the night when his spell flashed back at him. He had never experienced such backlash from his spells, even the experimental ones. What he knew for certain was that he had not been defeated. His return was a testament to that. All his experiments and ideas had come to fruition. Even he, with all his intelligence, had had his doubts about his ramblings, and his mad thoughts. Truthfully, the whispered conversations of the darkest magic available hadn't necessarily been the best leads. But eventually, and inevitably, he had pursued lead after lead to finally come one step closer to immortality. It had been a sign that he was on the right path, and for the right reasons.

"I am Lord Voldemort." He whispered, catching the attention of his Familiar. She was hungry, but would not go out to hunt without his permission. Such was the control that he held over her. Such was the might of his magic. "Go and eat my beloved." He whispered again and watched in fascination as she faded into the shadows of his chambers.

He treasured loyalty. Submissive loyalty, but loyalty nonetheless. He had known, years prior, that dealing with humans, or any creature that could think for itself did not lend much to the idea of true loyalty. After all, most had their own ambitions. More so, it wasn't just loyalty that he demanded, but capable loyalty. It would matter little to have a group of loyal, incompetent fools. He could trust precious few, and he knew that fear of him and his capabilities could only go so far. But it would have to be far enough.

He knew that he could not win this war on sheer magical strength. Oh, he could most certainly level Muggle London if he so desired, and likely without even using his full strength. And yet, he knew that his rule needed to have a place able to be ruled. It would be far less than desireable to win the war, only to have nothing to celebrate for.

Fear and destruction did work though. That was a fact. But it had to be measured. One could not simply throw their might around and believe the common people to not stand up for themselves eventually. In this type of war, you had to make them believe that that was what they wanted all along. There would be a few obstacles in his way, he knew and expected that. And yet, he was unworried. He knew his way to be right. Even if it wasn't, he would make it right.

It could be no other way.

He needed to shore up his troops. The excursion into the Ministry had proven to be a successful failure. A failure because he had to show himself in order to get the prophecy and to protect his followers. It was also a failure because despite his presence, he had failed in both regards, and the Minister saw fit to stumble in at that time. It was a success because people knew he was back. He, Lord Voldemort had seemingly returned from the dead, adding a mysterious streak to his already powerful image. It would go a long way to mold the minds of the general population. He would, of course, exact the necessary revenge from all of those that opposed him.

After a few more moments, he himself stood, never one to be truly idle. A few steps past the doors to his chambers and he found Wormtail, dingy and dirty, but ready to serve.

"My Lord." The rat groveled. He was useless, but in a useful sort of way. It was an enigma that Voldemort had long ago stopped trying to solve. Whether loyal by fear, or love, Wormtail had proven himself capable of serving out his wishes. After all, not many of his other followers had sought him out after the incident in Godric's Hollow.

"Come Wormtail. I shall have you witness this next piece of magic." He whispered, knowing the rat would follow regardless. He had plans for the remains of the villagers he had eradicated. Despite leaving enough evidence to raise alarms across the entire country, he felt confident that no one would see to his goal.

He arrived at the door to his private labs. There were plenty of rooms set aside for his experiments, but this one was exclusive to only himself. No one else could enter due to the combination of blood magic and his own unique magical signature. He, of course, encouraged his followers to experiment. After all, they were all accomplished magic users in their own right. Usually, it was a simple matter to enhance plans of their own, or finish their failed experiments to make them actually useful.

Much like the Goblins in Gringotts, he pressed his hands to a hidden panel to the right of the door and whispered his passphrase in Parseltongue, getting a quick flash of vibrant blue as confirmation. Had anyone else attempted, there would have been a pause before the runic wards flared into an Anti-Apparation ward, trapping the would-be thief. From there, there would be a contained explosion, powerful enough to level a village on its own, but only meant for the materials within the room, and the trapped individual on the other side of the door. It was one of his finest creations.

He smiled, as much as he could, as he entered his domain. All around him were potions and projects held in powerful stasis fields to preserve the work. There were many that he paused out of need for more information, or due to sudden insight into another project. For today's task, he needed to finish a project that he had completed before; only this time, there would be far more upgrades.

Along the far wall lay the main ingredients for his next piece of magic. Bodies. Literally hundreds of bodies were thrown haphazardly into a large pile, that would not have fit outside of the use of powerful magic.

He could feel Wormtail flinch beside him. Such was the strength of his cowardice. And yet he was loyal. That was all that mattered.

The last station, closest to the bodies of the many villages that he had ravaged within the last few days, was his goal today. He casually raised his hand, his wand appearing as if by magic. Left, right, counter-clockwise, flick upwards, flick downwards, pull back and jab forward. The bodies and the large cauldrons that he had been working on rose simultaneously. Each body had a specific rune inscribed into their forehead, that once activated by the potion, would pulse. All he had to do was carefully, very careful, drench the rune with a very particular amount of the potion.

It took nearly an hour, but he was done at last. He looked carefully at the assembled beings, looking for any discrepancies in his magic. He knew he would find none, but one was never too careful. He had planned this meticulously , ever since his rebirth. To him, it was a chess game. Every piece had its place. One lost the game when they didn't utilize a piece to its fullest potential. In some cases, the pawns were just as important as the King. It was even better when the pieces did not know that they were the pawns.

Such was his intelligence.

"Behold, Wormtail. The first of my Inferi ." Voldemort spoke, his magic causing the runes on the forehead of the creature to pulse steadily.

It was a beginning.

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"Kingsley, how is the search coming in that Muggle village?" Amelia Bones asked. She was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and a woman that gather the respect of allies and enemies. She was a powerful and intelligent witch, graduating in the top percentage of her class at Hogwarts. Diligently, she has risen through the ranks as a Hit Wizard, humbling her own ambition as she went where the Ministry needed her help the most. It hadn't hurt that Voldemort has slaughtered most of her family in the last war. Now, she strove to protect everyone. Especially since the menace had returned. Already, there were whispers in the streets, cautious store owners, and nervous citizens. And Voldemort had had an entire year to gather his strength and his forces. She adjusted the monocle on her face to hide her brief flash of irritation at the failings of the Minister Fudge.

"Director Bones, it has not been easy. We took as many samples as we could before we had to relinquish the scene to the muggle authorities. Our initial analysis has determined that this is something we have never seen before. With no survivors, and no bodies, it is almost as if they have vanished from the face of the earth." The deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke.

Amelia let out a heavy sigh, looking around the conference room that held some of her senior Aurors and Hit Wizards. It was her war council of sorts, without the Minister, who was not likely to make it through the end of the week with the current climate.

"We need to hit known sympathizers of His forces! We need to hit them hard! This has to be the work of Him ." Came the voice of Rufus Scrimgeour, a man that reminded everyone of a lion stalking its prey.

"Rufus, you know good and well that that is something that we can't do. If anything, that will only serve to cause a widespread panic. Right now, the situation is contained from the general public." Came the reply from a blonde Hit Wizard by the name of Jacobson. He came from a long family of Law Enforcement officials. It was like that for all of the males of their family. He even had two twin brothers currently set to graduate the accelerated program in a few weeks. They would need all of the manpower possible to fight another war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"I agree." Came the voice of Kingsley once more. He had always been a sensible and loyal man.

"Bloody hell! Can you not see that this has You-Know-Who written all over it?" Rufus responded, showing a flash of his own annoyance.

"We can't do something for the sake of doing something." Amelia responded. "What we need is concrete evidence that something is going on. If you hear rumors, bring them to me, we'll discuss a procedure and from there we can make sure that we are taking the right steps. Remember, we all have the same goal here. We want Voldemort finished, and for good this time."

"Alastor, what are your thoughts?" Rufus asked. Normally, he would not be invited to such a meeting, but with the return of Voldemort, they needed every single wand they could get. He had been reinstated with full privileges, and the role of Special Advisor. In his tenure, he had been one of the effective and powerful weapons, and never wanted anything to do with any of the politics of the Ministry. He only wanted to catch the Dark Wizards.

The grizzled man was quiet for a moment, his magical eye flitting around crazily, trying to see everything at once. "Unfortunately, I have to side with Director Bones here. But I do not disagree with the approach of Auror Scrimgeour here. We do need to show force, but it needsta be measured. We gotta show these bastards that we mean business."

The answer seemed acceptable to all there, and quickly thereafter, the meeting adjourned. Everyone knew their orders anyway.

"Rufus, Alastor, Shack, please remain behind." Amelia's voice cut in as everyone stood to leave. "I am hearing reports that a muggle neighborhood was practically saturated in battle magic. According to reports, it was close to the home of Harry Potter, and we have not been able to locate his Muggle family. Do you know anything of this?" She continued once the room had cleared. She did not miss the quick glance that Shacklebolt shared with Alastor Moody. She knew that they were both part of the Order of the Phoenix of course, and yet their collective goals were the same. She had no reason to restrict two of her best fighters from doing some good for the war.

"Director, Harry Potter was attacked by who we know to be Bellatrix LeStrange and three previously unknown accomplices. Several muggles were killed in the explosion that they set off. They were likely delayed Blasting curses implanted into a metal disk that acted as shrapnel of some sort. It was extremely effective. We have yet to determine how Mr. Potter survived the initial blast." Kinglsey spoke, his shouldered squared and his words succinct.

"Let's not focus on that. He has survived a lot of suspicious instances. We cannot account for him at any rate. We don't know if he is truly friend or enemy. He even broke in not too long ago." Madam Bones responded.

"Technically, the security system gave him and his friends access. However, I do not disagree with your analysis Director." Rufus spoke up. He didn't have as much knowledge as the other two gentlemen that Amelia held back, but he did possess a powerful mind.

"Potter would give his left arm for someone that he didn't know." Alastor Moody finally spoke up. He had heard some of the more vicious details of his tales from Albus. Hell, he had even seen the battle. "I'd like to think, if anything, that he was more on our side than we were."

"Be that as it may, we cannot rule out the idea that Mr. Potter could develop a sense of true independence from the British Ministry of Magic. He has enough political clout and power that we would have to be extremely careful in handling him. We do not need a mass panic on our hands because of his opinion ." Amelia spoke, always the rational one.

"Auror Shacklebolt, continue your report." Scrimgeour spoke, redirecting attention to the bald man as he himself continued to plot.

"When I arrived on scene, Mr. Potter had already been relocated to a safe house for his protection. It was my understanding that he had Albus Dumbledore as his source of personal protection." Kingsley spoke. His last comment received raised eyebrows. For those old enough, Dumbledore was nearly a god-like figure in regards to his sheer level of power. "I cannot speak of where they were located, only that Dumbledore himself assured Mr. Potter's protection. From the scene itself, it looked as if a vicious battle had taken place. We found the remains of his muggle family, and that of several, at the time, unidentified bodies. Once we were able to piece together the samples left, and the magical signatures of the scene, we got a hit on Bellatrix LeStrange, but not one on any of her assumed accomplices. We had to do an area-wide memory wipe to contain the Statute of Secrecy, but we have assured that nothing has leaked. " Kingsley continued.

"Any other pertinent details?" Amelia asked.

"Honestly, no. Our spells were over-ridden by the sheer power of the spells unleashed. Potter was definitely fighting for his life. Strangely, though, so were the attackers." Kingsley spoke, his voice hiding none of his confusion.

"Do you believe that Potter responded in kind?" Rufus asked. Kingsley took a deep breath, considering his response. He considered his loyalty to both Dumbledore and the Ministry, as well as his personal ideals. His answer could very well spell more trouble for Harry Potter.

"Frankly, Director, I believe that Mr. Potter responded with as much force as he was able in order to respond to a deadly threat. He had to have been wounded from the initial explosion. Add to that, he was fighting against several qualified and vindictive spell-casters, with no formal knowledge of combat. He did the best that he could. Regardless of that, he survived and most of his enemies did not. If anything, he did what was expected of a wizard that has, essentially, been hunted his entire life." Kingsley responded.

"What is your professional opinion of his temperament, his skillset, and the his threat level to the general public." Bones asked, cutting to the chase. She trusted Kingsley, and therefore would value his opinion over that of any of her other Aurors.

"Director, Mr. Potter is a wizard of extreme power. From brief interactions with him, he has exuded an uncontrolled power that could one day rival, or exceed, that of Albus Dumbledore. In the same instance, he is untrained, and unfamiliar with the strength of his magic. It is likely that he does not know the true extent of his powers, and his magic is able to respond on his behalf. He would need focused training to be a threat, as well as to make sure that he is not a threat. However, Voldemort seems to have a very unhealthy fixation with his demise. He will likely be fighting for his life until the very moment that Lord Voldemort is vanquished." Kingsley summarized.

Over a century ago, with a different set of people in the meeting, a similar discussion had taken place in regards to Albus Dumbledore. There was little that could be done with such powerful individuals, but the Ministry liked to attempt to keep tabs of the most powerful of witches and wizards in an attempt to "protect"the interests of the public. That is, they made sure that there were none that could truly disrupt their power, or threaten the safety of the public. Most often, they were able to know from birth, who was most likely to be an individual of raw power and potential influence. Hence the reason for the tests that all magical youth went through upon birth. The test scores, along with grades from their school of choice was carefully monitored in order to ascertain the liability potential of many witches and wizards. Recent events had given the government a more free hand in focusing on the strengths and weaknesses of such individuals.

"Indeed. Mr. Potter has seem to grow beyond the results of his initial testing. And yet, he also seems to be a wizard of mediocre caliber. Were the tests wrong? Could he be a threat?" Amelia asked, mostly to herself, but knowing that her most trusted advisors had heard her. These were the thoughts that she had to deal with as essentially the face of public security. In the magical world though, one could never be too comfortable with what they thought , as opposed to what they could prove.

"We will continue to gather information Madame Bones." Rufus spoke as he gave a curt nod and excused himself. Kingsley stuck behind for a few more moments, motioning for Moody to do the same.

"Madame, I hope that I am not overstepping my boundaries, but I do not believe Mr. Potter to be a threat. At least, not a threat to the public at large. I do believe that he will do anything to survive, but he still has a kind heart, and a fierce loyalty for doing what is right. We could recruit him, but I highly doubt that Dumbledore would allow that to happen. If anything, we need to closely monitor him." The deep voice spoke.

"For the most part, I do trust Dumbledore when it comes to a judge of character. Further, if Mr. Potter does steer himself to the lesser glories of magic, Dumbledore may be the only one capable of stopping him. I would like to meet him. Alastor, would you mind arranging for a meeting? I can promise his safety and security, and I am willing to meet him wherever, preferably outside of the Ministry. We all know that these walls have ears. That will be all gentlemen. Stay vigilant." Amelia responded.

The article from earlier in the day still sat heavily with her. Coupled with the information that she now possessed, and her picture of Harry Potter was even more muddied. He was a magically powerful, politically popular, underaged wizard. This sort of combined power hadn't been seen in quite some time.

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Lord Voldemort stalked the darkened caverns, his wand held casually in his right hand, his Familiar Nagini trailing slightly behind him. Outside of the two, there didn't seem to be a single soul in sight. Voldemort knew better though. His senses were second to none and he could feel the folks watching them as they walked. He had no concerns. They would either follow him or be eradicated. A trick of magic made the hallway appear to be infinitely longer than it was truly, but a negligent flick of his left hand dispelled such illusions. He could see the hidden entry way before him, as well as the hall of guards that he and Nagini had ghosted past.

He had entered Mortuorum. Only those deeply steeped within history knew the original name of this land. For most people, it was enough to know that it was vampire territory. It was the land of the dead. Sequestered by the threat of eradication by the Ministry of Magic, the vampires had a society all of their own. They still hunted of course, but only when necessary, and mostly from nearby farm animals. The wary muggle that walked past, or near enough to count as walking past, was eagerly snatched up and celebrated. It was the place that Voldemort had come to.

"Speak your piece wizard." A gravelly voice spoke.

Voldemort simply smirked in response, his true emotions hidden behind a mask of nonchalant readiness. "It would do well for you to address me with a modicum of respect, Henrik."

"State your reasons for being here Lord Voldemort. Unless you wish for me to set my people upon you." Henrik replied.

"I'd destroy them all. What you fail to realize Henrik, is that I am unlike any other wizard you have met before. This wand, this one wand could carve your heart out and my will alone could keep you alive long enough to eat it. Send your people to their deaths if you dare." Voldemort spoke, his face a mask. He was motionless, and yet still looked deadly.

The staring contest between he and Henrik went on for several more moments, before Henrik made a motion with his hand, signaling to the guards.

"We shall hear your words wizard ." Henrik spoke again.

"You will serve me, in return I give you free reign. It's quite simple really. What you and your kind lack is support. I can provide that, and we can exist in a world where a government does not exist. You must be restless in these hills, with mere animals to satisfy the pallet. The moment you cross me, I will hunt down every vampire in your coven and slaughter them like animals. And trust me, Henrik, it would not take me long to do so."

Henrik sat still for a long moment, not blinking, and not appearing to breathe either. His pale skin shone brightly in the light provided by the chamber. His milky red eyes hid a fury behind them. Lord Voldemort, though, could see the appeal to the offer. That was all that mattered at this point.

"Agreed. We are at your disposal." Came the deep voice of Henrik, Lord of the Dead.

"I will send you instructions." Came the hiss-like response from the Dark Lord. Nagini wrapped her long body across his torso, much of her length still on the ground. He twisted on his heel and disappeared into a cloud of dark smoke, which immediately dispersed.

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Auror Samantha Roberts, class of '72, surveyed her surroundings with a frown. For the past few years, she had seen a change in her position and her duties as an auror. She had gone from an undercover agent, to a "street walker", and finally found herself at the most boring pinnacle of them all; Captain of the Minister's Guard. It was a prestigious position to be certain, and gave her a level of power within the Ministry that few could match. And yet, as an Auror, used to fighting criminals and solving tough cases, it was boring work. Simply put, no one ever threatened the Minister.

The last Minister to be attacked had been during the reign of Grindewald. Though the dark wizard had not turned his sights directly to Britain, he had agents all over the world, moving at his whim. The Minister at the time had barely made it. What had started off as an intermagical conference, had turned into a bloodbath. On the presence of Albus Dumbledore himself had deterred the attackers. Now however, the Minister went nowhere without a guard.

Including herself as Captain, 5 fully-trained aurors, some seniors and others juniors, stayed near. To complement their prowess was a rotating squad of Hit Wizards, usually about 8 thick themselves. There were contingency plans for nearly every possible events. Some contingency plans had contingency plans of their own. Continuity of government and all that. Usually, the Captain served only one Minister in their lives, while the rotation of Aurors and Hit Wizards could change with the stroke of a quill.

On a typical night, it was quiet at the Ministerial home. Quiet and boring. The one thing she had always been taught in the Academy was to never become complacent, to never become accustomed to an assignment.

It was a tough job. Despite being only part of his protection, articles such as the one released this morning had a way of making her life difficult. The Ministerial house was not unplottable, as it was deemed public property. It held powerful wards, and they had never been breached. Though, that was a combination past Ministers choosing to not reside there, and there being tangbile peace since the buidling of the property. Even still, she had to keep an eye out; paparrazzi had a way of finding out information and finding a way onto the grounds.

It was a delicate balance to protect a public figure, and still keep him accessible to the evry people that elected him. In such tense times, though, that was both a blessing and a curse.

"Auror Jones, status report." Roberts spoke, starting the customary check-in procedure with her team. Jones, a stocky ex-Hufflepuff, recently from the Auror Academy was one of the newest additions to the team, but a fine one. He followed orders, asked no questions, and was diligent with his work.

"Message received, situation is calm and quiet Captain." Jones replied. Roberts heard him through the small piece of jewelry that all Auror teams received while on a mission. It was some tricky runework, but it allowed all of the jewels within a certain radius to correspond with one another. They had to be periodically charged and refreshed, and had a range of nearly 5 miles. However, it was a closed network. It had been a struggle to include more than 8 of the spelled pieces into one loop. It was for this reason that all Aurors still carried a pouch of Floo powder, and were trained in sending messenger spells should all else fail.

She had just opened her mouth to follow the next chain of command when the alarm for the Intruder Ward sounded.

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Lord Voldemort approached the gates of the Ministerial Manor with slow steps. Casually, he flicked out a cube of marble, enlarged it to its full size, and threw it on the path near him. The Anti-Apparition Jinx that he had carved into the cube would hold for exactly 21 minutes. It wouldn't take him that long to send his message.

He raised his wand and thrust it towards the enchanted gates. Once his own magic leached onto the magic embedded in the spiked gates, he yanked his wand back towards him. The protection runes had been meticulously carved into the gates themselves; he simply ripped the foundation itself apart, never disturbing the wards. Immediately, he felt the pulse of an Intruder Ward. He had missed it, but it was a small matter. His presence would be announced regardless.

"Stop right there! Drop your wand and put your hands on your head." An Auror, male shouted at him loudly.

"No." Came the simple response. It seemed to leave the Auror stupefied until the last thing that Auror saw was a beam of green energy speeding towards him.

Spellfire erupted to his left, and Voldemort jerked his wand high, bringing forth a mound of dirt to absorb the spells. In the dust from the collision, he twirled his wand around his body in a figure eight and pushed . The heavy debris of what was left of his protection sped towards to small group of Hit Wizards forcing them to separate.

Voldemort smirked. His dark cloak fluttered with the strength of his magic as he made ready for battle. He batted away one, two, four, ten spells from the half-dozen Hit Wizards before him. They weren't sending tickling charms at him, that much he knew for sure. It was to their folly that they likely didn't even recognize him.

"Reducto!" Came a loud voice to his right. Voldemort twirled, pointing his wand directly at the spell as it flew towards him. One swift twirl and he was taking control of the intent behind the spell, viciously ripping it from the caster. He pivoted, dodging several spells in the process, and threw the spell at a different wizard.

This was almost fun for him.

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She watched in morbid satisfaction, the way he slapped the spells aside, easily. WIth a nonchalant twirl of his wand the Dark Lord captured a spell from a Hit Wizard and forced it back at him, even stronger than before.

They were getting dismantled and he hadn't even tried to go on the offensive.

"Get the Minister out of here!" She bellowed, throwing her own spell towards the monster before her. He took it and threw it at one of her team mates., He died too quickly to scream. Their numbers were dwindling down, they were without a form of communication. He was destroying them, and having fun doing it. They were not equipped to fight the Dark Lord.

She weighed her options. Her mandate, above all else, was to ensure the safety of the Minister of Magic, no matter what. In her moment of hesitation, she saw another of her comrades be disemboweled, and cast to the side.

Suddenly she was blown back by a powerful concussive force. From her darkening vision, she could see the scattered bodies of her comrades, and the untouched form of Lord Voldemort. He stood in the center of a crater admiring his handy work. With a negligent gesture with his wand, he cleared himself a path to the front doors.

"Oh Cornelius…" He called, his voice causing her heart to freeze.

She blacked out, but not before she heard the echoing scream of the Minister of Magic.

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She watched from afar, but so close. She could see his pain, feel it as if it were own. And yet, his strength never wavered – at least to anyone but her. She knew him, sometimes better than he did himself. She saw how he work his pain as a cloak, a defense against those trying to get too close. A defense against her, perhaps.

She'd like to think that she knew her place in his life. Dumbledore was the grandfather; wise, strong, powerful but gentle. Professor Lupin was an uncle; fun loving but supportive all the same. The Weasley's were an adopted family; brothers, a sister, a surrogate set of parents. Yes, everyone had their role in his life. Everyone except for her.

Was she a sister? It she considered it, then possibly. But a sister shouldn't feel for her brother what she felt for him. Thy were much too young to be married – and yet, if she were to let herself dream, she could see the possibility.

He was too much of a gentleman to be any but nice and sweet towards her. Oh, he said harsh things from time to time, but that was simply chalked up to a young man under stress. At the end of the day, she knew that he treasured her presence. How and why? Well, she had yet to figure that out.

It scared her, if she was being honest with herself. In some ways, she was more scared to find her role in his life than she was of the nightmares that kept her awake. He scared her. She could admit that now. She was terrified of him, and for him. It was nearly enough to driver her crazy. Indeed, she had her moments where she simply needed to get away, to take a breath and re-center herself.

But, she couldn't help but be drawn to him It was more than his green eyes, or his highly-recognized skill for quidditch. It was much more than the fact that he was the Boy-Who-Lived. It was more than his having saved her life, or befriended her.

Though she couldn't put her finger on it, she knew it was more than what most appreciated about him. He was a magnet, and she very well could be the strongest metal ever known.

Of course, she wasn't the only one attracted to him. She knew that for a fact. Those on the fringes, they saw the scar, the fame, and the fortune and never anything else. Those slightly closer, the Ginny Weasley's of the world, saw him as a personal here and savior. Still, she saw for more than that. She saw deeper than anyone.

She saw the nightmares, the sleepless nights, the controlled feat, She also saw the desperation, the need and desire to be loved fiercely. She saw how alone he was, even surrounded by throngs of people. She saw the uncertainty at times, and even the self-loathing. And she saw how he overcame all of that for others in need. She simply saw deeper.

No one had ever taught her how friendships were supposed to be. In primary school, before Hogwarts, best friends were a dime a dozen. It could be as simple as the sharing of a favored toy, and a friendship was struck.

No one ever told her that friendships could be forged through blood, sweat, tears, and magic. No one told her that real friends could communicate with a single glance. No one told her that being a friend meant being willing to stand between a friend and a supposed killer. She hadn't known that shoving a wand up the nose of a troll and scrambling its brain could be the foundation of a new life, or of a new understanding. No one ever told her that she could fall in love with her bestfriend.

People were complicated. That's why she stuck to a good book.

Suddenly, she was at his door, hand raised to knock. She couldn't remember the walk up the stairs or setting down her book. But, she had to check on him, someone needed to. Everyone expected him to be strong, but were rarely there to catch him when he fell from being too strong for too long.

"Looking for me?" Came a voice from her right. She hadn't heard him approach either. His training had been going very well apparently. She turned to address him, only to lose the rest of her conscious thoughts. Harry Potter stood in front of her, clad only in a towel. It was quite a sight.

He had the good nature to blush, deeply. She knew, without seeing, that her face matched it. She had never imagined this moment.

Well, that wasn't totally true.

She had definitely imagined it, just not as real as this. He had likely just come from the shower, as damp as his hair was. Quidditch had done him very well. The supplemental potions, had taken it to a different level.

He had already been wiry, with concealed strength. Now, he had looked to add a few pounds of muscle. He would never be a bodybuilder, but the stronger shoulders gave him an impressive physique. His chest, toned, glistened with the water dripping from his hair. His arms, too, looked bigger, fuller even.

And he had tattoos!

Several of them, she now noticed with a blush. She been too intent in her dissection to notice the colorful beast adorning his torso. On the right shoulder, he had what looked like a cross, It was large, but simple and elegant. In the upper left quadrant was a flower. In its reflection, on the other side was what she recognized as a stag, with a full rack. In the lower left, under the flower, there was what looked like the profile of a howling wolf. Next to it, as dark as night, was the grim.

He spoke before she could continue to study him. Or maybe, he had already been talking. She'd never know.

"Hermione? Are you well? You look a bit flushed?" Harry spoke, reaching out to jolt her back to attention. It was the shock of the touch that had brought her back to the here and now.

"What? Yes, I am q-quite well, thank you." The bookworm responded, attempting to clear her throat.

Harry appeared to ponder it for a moment before shrugging. "Oh…well, you had spaced out a bit there. I was worried."

"No, I was just looking at you – er, your scars I mean." She recovered quickly. Indeed, aside from the obvious scar on his forehead, his body told a horrific story.

Without thinking, she reached out and touched his shoulder. The scar was large, jagged and painted a picture of an awful wound.

"That's from the dragon, 4th year. She was a beauty wasn't she?" Harry spoke, a fond look upon his face. He was remembering, most likely, what he reviewed as a wonderful flight. She, on the other hand, remembered tightly clutching the arm of their other best friend, trying to track and follow the treacherous flight path of the Firebolt and the Norwegian Ridgeback.

"She could've killed you Harry. That's not funny, you prat." Hermione responded with a mock glare. The dragon had been beautiful, in a deadly fire-spurring way. She could look back on that moment with a smile. "And this one?"

"Ah, I may have gotten bit by a basilisk once upon a time." Harry replied, rubbing the jagged circle right beneath the crook of his elbow.

"It bit you? How are you still alive? That's one of the most potent poisons in the world!"

Hermione asked, slipping back and forth between concerned friend and academic genius.

"Fawkes." Harry stated simply. Hermione immediately nodded, knowing that a mixture of phoenix tears was indeed a cure.

"And this one?" She asked, pointing to the opposite arm.

"Ah, courtesy of Wormtail. I am going to kill him, I swear it." Harry spoke with a fierce strength.

Hermione didn't seem to know how to respond to that. It was far too close to a situation he had refused to talk to her about. It was tough on her, as his bestfriend, not knowing what was haunting him at night, what his experiences were, and how he could sleep at night after touting his deceased classmate from a battlefield.

"The rest are from Quidditch, Vernon, Dudley and his friends, and various scrapes across the castle. Some of them, well most of them, are too old to erase the scars themselves, - but, I've grown rather fond of them…" Harry trailed off.

"They make you unique. And they tell the story of a survivor." Hermione finished for him, nodding her agreement.

"If you would, I'd like to get into my room and put on some clothes?" Harry asked, smirking as he reached around her to open his door. "You can come in, I'll just toss on something comfortable."

"Why didn't you use the shower in your room?" Hermione asked, blushing as images of a raven-haired wizard with water cascading down his body.

"My shower?" Oh that – well, I might've blown it up on accident." Truthfully, he had had a nightmare and in his reflection he saw himself as a demon of sorts. So, he blew the mirror up.

However, instead of one reflection of him, it turned into hundreds.

He had blown those up too.

It was safe to say that his bathroom was in no condition to be used. Luckily, for him at least, Hermione didn't question him. With her back to him, she never saw the quick flash of pain across his features. He needed to control himself better, in more ways than one. He turned back to her.

He took a deep breath, and she mirrored him. He found himself staring at her chest, fascinated y the swell, and the scar he could see peeking from under her shirt. He was reaching towards her before he could consciously stop himself.

"It goes diagonally across my chest. Madame Pomfrey said that had it been verbal, it likely would've cleaved right through me." She spoke, trying to not react to his touch.

"I'm so sorry," Was all he could say. How could you apologize for very nearly costing someone their life. He didn't think they taught that class at Hogwarts.

"I'd do it again for you." Hermione spoke.

Suddenly she found herself wrapped in his arms , the hug fierce and powerful. Every thought left her mind, and she found that she had been holding her breath.

"I don't know what I would do without you." Harry spoke, slightly muffled due to her hair.

"Let's hope we never have to find out." Hermione responded after a while. They pulled apart, slowly. Suddenly she smirked and reached up to tap his forehead. "Now, we both have scars."

"Mine is so much more cooler than yours." Harry teased.

"You wish. Goodnight Harry." Came the reply as she started to walk out of the room.

"Goodnight Hermione." He whispered in response.