I've really had to start cutting back on my chapter length -they keep getting longer and longer. It's irritating. But anyways, sorry that my chapters are getting posted at longer intervals, but I am in highschool, and we do have finals. They'll be over by next week though.

This is a depressing chapter. I know people like fluff, and I'm working on it. It's just not happening yet. Or in the next chapter.

Voldemort is probably slightly different in my story. I don't know how -maybe more controlled fits.

LittleEar BigEar's sis: ^_^

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Voldemort.

That was the name he'd assumed, the signal to others that he had become something more.

He was a man, though he liked to believe that he was above the rest. His life -and death- was governed by his goals and his ambitions. And his hate. He understood that hatred could not be allowed to rule him; Yet it was a large part of his existence.

He enjoyed being surrounded by his followers. He ruled them, and he would rule every living thing if he had his way.

Potter had no idea what was happening to him. He no doubt felt like his thoughts were slogging through icy water. As the dementors gliding ever closer, Potter surveyed his surroundings. He really didn't know what to do.

Potter wouldn't want to kill everyone, though he might possibly be able to -though not Voldemort himself, of course. He probably didn't understand why they had all trying to kill him... without using the killing curse.

Neither did his Death Eaters. But, he didn't really care whether they, or Potter, understood. If only Potter hadn't gotten lucky at the graveyard where his accursed father had been buried… but Voldemort didn't have the time to ruminate, and this should prove a just punishment for such an irritation.

There was a flash of light, and a reddish shield appeared, with white overlaying it. Voldemort used his senses to feel out the three foot in diameter circle, completely unconcerned with the fact that Potter had taken out another Death Eater. How interesting. Potter was using a short of defensive Patronus.

Voldemort wondered who had came up with it; Maybe he should kidnap Granger. No doubt though, Dumbledore had a hand in it though.

It made no difference in any case. The Dementors were not going for Potter. Instead they merged with the jets of energy that Potter was having such a problem warding off. The light changed color, now having the purple energies of Dementors mixed in to complete the spell.

Oh, the look on Potter's face. He was definitely feeling it now. How would his Gryffindor optimism survive? It would be interesting to see how long it took him to break down.

A reflexive flash of energy from Potter sent most of the Death Eaters sprawling.

Voldemort smirked and moved forward, his motions somehow unnatural.

"Potter," he said looking at the defeated opposition -not that he knew he was defeated yet.

The dark haired boy tired to shake out the dazed feeling. "Riddle."

It would not due to let Potter know how much the use of that name pissed him off. "Enjoying your memories Potter? I'm sure your fond of the one's involving your Family." If the Death Eaters found out about his misbegotten heritage, he'd have to waste time killing and torturing some of them.

"The ones of you top it." And quick as lightning, the killing curse was heading for Voldemort. He could have easily stepped out of the way, but he didn't. Potter was ever so predictable. This would be a good demonstration for his Death Eaters.

He let the spell hit him, and the world stilled as his battled the life sucking energy. They all watched as he bent, his expression unreadable. He would show no pain.

And he straightened up. "You all thought I could be killed? No. Never again." Potter, who was entirely unsurprised, though vastly disappointed and overwhelmed by the spell, sank to a knee.

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Sirius was an old man now. It didn't surprise him that he hadn't the chance to duck the binding spell. So he lay there, doubting that anyone would have to time to float out of the crossfire.

He tried to figure out what was going on, but that was proving difficult, as most of his view was occupied by the blue marble floor. His mind kept running a question through his head. 'Why aren't they all using the killing curse.?' He should be dead right now, not stunned. They were aiming to kill most, and stun some. Why?

Then suddenly his mobility was back -someone had taken the second to free him. He surreptitiously shifted. The Offenders had just broken through the main entrance, which he had been defending, The Aurors among them had called for a retreat; That didn't do the gray cloaked wizards any good, as beyond the doors was a relatively large area, with two staging points -small rooms.

Each room had a doorway to the room behind it. Those rooms also had entrances facing the attackers. The defenders in the first to rooms could easily retreat to the second set of rooms. From there, they would go to the series of thin galleries parallel to the hallway that extended behind the quartet of rooms.

Right now, they were still in the first set of rooms, and were easily picking off their opponents. It was obvious that whoever picked this party to ambush hadn't expected the resistance. So they had to be from somewhere distant, not England or it's closest allies. Somewhere where they knew something of the wizarding community in England, but not overly much of the individual people. Not many would try this on the Trio.

Right now he had a problem. He didn't know where his wand was, and he was just as likely to get hit as the attackers.

His theory was confirmed as a witch knelt by him, trying to become less of a target. What confirmed it was the curses she was muttering, in a language he didn't recognize.

The woman gasped when pain suddenly ripped through the hand which gripped her wand. She reflexively tried jerking her hand away, only to find that teeth were deeply imbedded inside the hand… teeth that were attached to a very large black dog.