Author: Psykiapa (that's me, obviously)

Rating: Very meek PG-13

Genre(s): Romance, (is there romance yet? No, nothing major, just a warning) Fantasy, Harry Potter (duh)

Warning: This story might include slash (if you could call it that), but that is barely any part of it right now.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, never will, or anything incorporated with it. I am writing this purely out of the pleasure to be filling the time between when the books come out, and I do not disrespect the fact that J. K. Rowling owns this or that Warner Bros. owns the movie(s). Until I can finish writing the sylvan language, I will be force to use the closest thing to it; J.R.R. Tolkien's elvish. Please understand that I didn't write it, or else I'd be much more financially endowed than I currently am. Don't file a suit; I'm just a humble writer. Oh, and I may subconsciously quote TV shows or movies, or be inspired by them, sometimes it's indicated, sometimes its not, but you should know that I don't mean any harm.
Chapter 13: The Decision

The very next day, Harry sat in the very same spot. He was early; he had left without even Nikiatom knowing of his passing. Such was the power that had been vested in him that he could move silently and without notice from sentinels. It was a talent that had come much in need when he had been living among his fame, and it was what had kept him from being caught by professors as he wandered after hours.

The morning breeze came in from the windows, the overcast sky presenting a gloomy English morning. It was a morning of promise; but that promise could have either been bad or good. Perhaps it could have been both. Harry didn't know, nor did he really think it was his place to know.

The Chieftan of the Merpeople had not been brought in yet, and he was quite alone. That is, until he heard the clicking footsteps that told him of the arrival of the Veela Countess. He turned to her, regarding her with a look of quiet contemplation. She looked at him with something akin to wariness. She dodged around the table; sending searching glances into the shadows, and waited for him to say something.

"Hello," he finally greeted her, as he stood (it was the custom of the sylphs to stand when alone in a room with someone they hardly know.)

"Hello," she answered, watching him slightly out the corner of her eye.

"It would be terrible small talk to say that it is a lovely morning, because it just simply is not." Harry tentatively began, inviting her to talk to him.

"How many ways do you mean that?" She asked, slightly avoiding her own topic of conversation.

Harry blinked at her. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." It was a lie, but carefully disguised.

"I'm sure you do."

There was a tense silence. The Veela Countess gained half the twelve feet that lay between them. Harry remained where he stood, determined not to show his nerves. His heart beat in his ears and his fingers shook slightly, but the Veela were never really famous for their powers of observation, and it went unnoticed.

"You know exactly what it is I mean." She almost snarled, but anyone who was listening outside the door would have heard it only as a statement.

"I know what the sylphs believe they know about everything, and I also know that they are far too cocky. Do not tell me that you know not what I mean, I'm not that stupid."

"I know you aren't. I was just trying to keep this conversation polite. And I wanted you to elaborate slightly; not everything that we assume is right." He countered.

"Have you no shame?" she asked, striding just that much closer to her audience of one. "Have you no mortification?"

Harry was getting more nervous as she started to circle him.

"You have too much pride, I guess that must be the answer. If you do not know of what it is that I speak of, then you are not fit to be the ruler of your people."

"What is it you know of the customs of my people?" Harry asked, turning his head to follow her figure.

"I know that you are young, and the sylphs must be stupid to let someone so child-like and inexperienced to preside over them. I am also very learned on the topic of forgotten lore, for what I find in the ancient histories no one really remembers quite interesting. I know more about you and your people than anyone else born in this world does. There is one thing that I find particularly interesting."

She came to a stop in front of Harry.

"The Veela and the sylphs were never allies." The look she gave him made Harry shiver.

"I despair that we are now; after all, among wizards and men, the old alliances are only broken with treason and deceit, and old enemies find it hard to shove away their differences. The Veela are closer to human than non-human, and so our old dispute can not be reforged as the relationship of an alliance. If you believe it will be easy for us to work together, then you are even more of a fool than I make of you." The Veela Countess looked Harry up and down. He decided not to say anything to that; he was far too angry to manipulate the situation in his favor. The Countess continued.

"What is it that you think we can solve? Together, we are nothing. The sylphs can only stand alone; they can never be a part of someone else. We could never work together cooperatively."

"What do you mean, the sylphs will always stand alone?" Harry asked, his voice low and slightly menacing.

The Countess simply smiled a leering grin, and took a step forward. "You are the beauties of night; we are the beauties of day. The day is a far more comfortable thing to represent. It is wholesome, bright, ordinary, and welcoming. No one has ever been terrified of day before. There is no darkness to shadow its beauty.

"Night is a far cry from day. It is alluring, tempting, dark. It has so many layers that you can never truly know whether what is outside your window is a friendly squirrel or a snake in the grass. There are too many levels of night; there's too much potential. It is beautiful only because you can never really guess exactly what it is. It is random, and terrible. You can never truly comprehend the night sky, nor can you comprehend the bright spots of night, the stars. You are made of stardust; we are made of sunlight. The two can never mix." She finished, proud of herself, eyes raking over Harry as he stood before her, bound and determined not to lose his temper.

"You forget that the sun is a star." He muttered, before turning on his heal and walking with dignity from the room.

* * *

Draco smiled as he read in his History of Magic book. His father had implanted a firm love of history in his head; it was ingrained upon him, so he had no chance of ever finding it dull when and if he overthrew the man. Of course, there were many upsides to having a rich father. The most obvious being the fact that what would normally not befall a family like the Weasleys (this was actually accurate; the Weasleys had been so poor for so long that any rich legacy was still a joke. They did not know yet how they could use so much of their money; therefore it was completely beside the point to think that this luxury was in their grasp.) was really something that had happened to the Malfoys on several occasions. It also helped that the Malfoys had been quite wealthy from the ninth year BC and had gained quite an awful amount of basic crap for their lives that they really had no idea what to do with it. Which brings us to the fact that Draco was presently reading a first edition Revised Study of the Sylvan Downfall, written by a man that was unfortunate enough to be named Sherlock.

Anyway, it was extremely strange to read, as Sherlock had been a commander for the wizards who turned traitor. The sylvan people had fascinated Draco so much at the ball, though he hadn't been allowed to show it, that he just had to find out more about them. Their culture was absolutely overlooked, because when wizards and men were not killing them they were seen purely as an object of lust. No one had really bothered to study them, and they were secretive enough to keep their civilization hidden.

He turned the page, enthralled to be able to study something without having it to be censored by his father. It was completely unexpected, and a delight to be able to have his own way for once. Of course, there could never be a problem in his little amount of liberty. There could never be.

He didn't know that the studies went both ways.

* * *

Charlie,

I regret to inform you that as you are not represented at a secret council, your people can not know of our movements. If we were ever to keep you informed, it could possibly be a danger to us and our cause. We do not know you well enough to say whether you are actually one of the Grey Wizards, or a spy for the Death Eaters.

We sincerely apologize for the . . . inconvenience.

Signed, Arthur Weasley, Minister of Magic-England

Charlie stared at the letter in shock. They had been invited to the meeting, so they had supposed that since they could not arrive there, they would at least be able to obtain information on what went on at it. He quickly scanned it again, looking for things written between the lines, and found none. Sirius watched him from where he quietly sat poking at the fire. The older man's features were lit in tones of brilliant red and orange, and every wrinkle of his face was concentrated toward the young dragon tamer. A small curl of frozen breath curled from his mouth, and he shifted closer to the fire.

It wasn't that odd that both should somehow end up on the same mission; both had joined the Clan of the Grey Wizards earlier that year. They had, of course, known of each other before. Charlie had heard of Sirius through the wild tales that Grandmother Weasley had told to Bill and himself before Percy was old enough to understand them. She may have been an eccentric grandmother who didn't really care about rules, but she knew what would spoil the delicate coverings of the young and innocent. It had been a tale told after Percy had fallen asleep to the story of the Boy-Who-Lived. They looked forward to it every time she came to visit or vice versa just as Percy looked forward to the stories of the baby savior. Sirius had, of course, heard about Charlie through Ron, but that was only the most obvious connection. He had heard of the younger eldest child from his mother, Mrs. Weasley, who had explained what her two elder sons had done with their lives after Hogwarts at Christmas last year, when he had still had Harry with him.

To tell the truth, Sirius had been looking forward to seeing Harry again. Had their company not been attacked by a war party on the way to England, he would have gotten to see his godson while there. He had been corresponding with Harry, as he had done while on the run from authorities, ever since the boy had left for the Sylvan Underworld. He learned much from his godson, and a lot of it was useful information to the Grey Company. Harry knew of his decision not to remain a High Wizard, and supported him all around. It seemed to Sirius that Harry knew a lot more than he said he did, or, rather, more than he would if he were simply a High Wizard, as everyone had always thought. He knew better what went on in peoples' heads than people really gave him credit for. The sylphs were such a unique race that they tended to be a subject of mystification among the more educated of the High Wizards. Those less educated listened to the tales of the Tuatha de Dannan and decided that they were sylphs, and even those were on a higher level of intelligence than the rest of the normal population.

He had never really been truly happy in his old house. Sure, he had been strangely excited while Harry had been staying with him, but after he left and Sirius was alone, it left him with nothing to distract him. Everywhere he looked he saw something that reminded him of Ophelia. There was a hint of her scent here, a small decorative touch to the house there, and the fact that he had never moved her things out of the house before he was arrested just made him almost completely break down.

And that was how Charlie had found him. The Grey Wizards had known through unclear sources that Sirius was innocent before he had even escaped Azkaban. They knew far more than anyone really supposed they did. Anyway, they also knew from some strange person that Sirius was very bright and talented, but had been rotting in Azkaban for far too long. When Sirius had finally been set free, Charlie joined the Clan. Every new member who came to them out of their own desire was supposed to try to recruit someone else as a right of passage, and Charlie thought that it would be easiest to do it through his slight connection to Sirius. Sirius had seen it as a way to get out of his house and do what he was so used to doing: live on the move. Sirius had not had to recruit someone, as he did not come to them freely and ask to join, so he could get started right away. And that was how they had come to be on this mission together.

Charlie looked up from pondering the letter and saw Sirius staring at him intently. He waited for Sirius to say something, which he promptly did.

"What's in the letter?" He asked. In their training regime they had been forced to ask the most direct questions possible in any situation.

"It's a letter from my father. He won't send us information." Charlie answered shortly, creasing the letter and putting it in his pocket.

"Why?"

"He sprouted out some bull about how we weren't at the secret meeting we couldn't get our hands on such confidential information." Charlie played with his fingernails.

Sirius thought about what it was that Charlie had said. "Does it bother you?"

"A little. He treated me like an inferior, but what really hurt was that he didn't treat me like his son."

They sat quietly for a while, neither really knowing what to say, or what the other wanted him to say. Dusk turned to evening, evening turned to night, and they sat with their own troubling thoughts. They had a lot to think about, as was the general rule of being a part of the Clan of the Grey Wizards. Eventually they decided they should put out the fire, for fear of an enemy finding them. When it was all over and done with, they agreed upon who would take the first shift, and when exactly the other would have to take over. Sirius decided Charlie needed sleep to get his mind off his father, and so took the first shift. He wrapped his torn cloak around his body and shivered into the night.

* * *

"Yesterday, we left off with everyone having spoken but my dear friend Arthur." Dumbledore stated as the second council started. "So, to start off today's discussions, I think we should hear from the English Minister of Magic." Dumbledore sat down as Arthur Weasley stood up.

"Thank you, Professor." Arthur cleared his throat. "We have a lot of information, most of which the people already know. The only things that need to be said as new information is what I am about to say." He paused slightly. "The reason we have next to no information about You-Know-Who's whereabouts is that our spies have nearly all been killed. Whenever they did find information, the Death Eaters found out who they were, and killed them. Each body found had its eyes poked out, and mouth open in terror."

Harry gasped to himself. It was starting to make sense.

"We could never find anything other than that. No notes were left on the bodies, nothing. We believe that there may be a subdivision within the larger group of Death Eaters that has been leaving this as their trademark. We cannot be too sure, but we have that idea. None of the other Death Eater attacks both of the past and of the present have turned up anything like this, that is, only just recently and only on our spies."

Nikiatom leaned forward in her seat.

"It's not as though we haven't publisized information to our people. Quite the contrary, actually. It is so hard to get the press out of our business that the people know more than is really good for them. Some small bits of information need to be repeated just so that I have made sure that everyone knows what I'm talking about.

"We almost informed the Muggles of our situation, and with that given away all secrecy we had ever wanted to keep. Then we noticed a very strange pattern in the deaths of You-Know-Who's victims. The only Muggles ever killed were in drunken Death Eater massacres. It seems as though the Dark Lord and his minions are occupied with something very different nowadays. I don't know exactly what they could be plotting, simply because with the lack of Muggle killings we can no longer be sure of their goals.

"Most people know that the people to become Death Eaters are, more than likely, Slytherins and pureblood. But a new development has the world stumped. There has been a series of murders within the upper class of wizards. Most of the victims of these serial murders are witches who are wealthy, pureblood, and were once in Slytherin house. They have been murdered brutally, their throats all slit and stomachs twisted in mutation. None of their eyes were open at the scene of the crime, but they were still intact, so the theory that the persons who killed them were the same murderers of our spies."

Eldrid suddenly remembered something that may have been of importance.

"We have been pressured to act on these brutal murders, but our Unspeakables and Aurors have not found any leads whatsoever. All they have to battle these silent serial killers are theories, and theories that don't make sense at that. The strangest development was the abandoning of Knockturn Alley just last week. It appears as if all the wizards and witches that had been on those streets all disappeared at once. Or all Apparated at once. Under closer inspection, we found several cash registers open with money strewn across the counters, but none stolen. All Dark objects that had not been bought were left behind, and in being left behind were forgotten. There must have been something of great importance on the dark side of the road that happened, otherwise things wouldn't have been abandoned so quickly."

The Chieftan of the Merpeople tried to sit up straighter in his Pensieve, but only managed to splash water on the Queen of the Fairies. She sent an irritated look his way, and he shrugged apologetically.

"There is rumor of an attack on Hogsmeade, so the entire town will be evacuating this afternoon. I have offered as much room and board as I can in my newly-built Manor, but the rest of the people of that town are lost as to where to go. Some will flee the country, others will go into hiding, but none shall remain to answer the beck-and-call of the students of Hogwarts. The food that we have put away for another time is dwindling into the shadows, and rapidly, and without the merchants of Hogsmeade it is impossible to know where we will get our supplies. Professor McGonagall, our Transfiguration teacher, is re-studying the serious issue of food transfiguration to see if there is anything she can do, and Professor Flitwick, our Charms professor, has tried a Multiplicity charm several times. There is just not much that we can do for ourselves at this point. With all or most of our good spies gone, it is hard to obtain any information about what it is we need to be doing to help ourselves. I fear for the future of these British Isles."

A heavy silence filled the room, and they counted their heartbeats in the suspension. It was Dumbledore who decided that it was his time to speak.

"There seems to be no hope left for any of the wizarding kind. Things are far too complicated and our guesswork is far too patchy. We can never say that we know everything, because the little we do is based mostly on hypothesis. But there is one thing that we must always remember, and that is the fact that there are a lot of people represented in this room. As long as we can depend on each other, we know we have a strong alliance. People are what make the difference here, and people we have. We just don't know how many of us we'll need, and that is the real worry." Dumbledore stood as he began what he was needed to say.

"I have more information than you, Mr. Weasley, and I don't mean to taunt you, and I hope I didn't. I have a close network of spies, and if the information had been shared before this very day, it would have been worthless.

"Voldemort does indeed have a very strong gaze toward the dark, and therefore, he draws our eyes onto himself. But I have had a lot of experience in my life, and I know that sometimes things happen when you are looking the other way, and some people have labeled these 'some things' into a larger category called 'life.' It was so back in the forties, when I was steeling myself to defeat the then dark-lord Grindelwald, when in truth a far greater enemy was rising right in front of my then less-crooked nose.

"What I really need to say is that we should not just assume that Lord Voldemort is the only concern here. We have the sleepless riders to consider, as well as the position of the Clan of the Grey Wizards. Things are not always simple as black and white, for sometimes there are people who have started a third or maybe even fourth side to the story. Much of my information is not through fact, but rather the ellusive words that scream at people through the lines. Not everyone listens to this screaming, however. After all, when you yourself are bellowing at the top of your lungs, how much are you really going to catch? I should think not much. The only thing we have really to consider is that we are not the only right way, and in order to listen to the future, sometimes you have to take a moment to be still." The old professor's twinkling gaze fell on Mr. Weasley, just as Triskele looked into his mind. The balding redhead gasped, and let his head fall to his hands to hide the wrinkles that formed there.

"I do not wish to be rude, professor, but I have to ask you one thing. Do you think we can still trust the people that have not pulled through? Because I need guidance on the matter." Draelf said, shocking everyone out of the stupor of flowery words.

"Master Dwarf, you must remember something; there is a reason for everything, but your reason might not always be the real reason. If you are referring to Dunhall, I must say that his part in this web of a story is not yet over, even though he may be dead." The dwarf looked away and grumbled something to himself.

"But that does not answer our question of what to do." The Veela Countess interjected. "If we wait to find out who the real enemy is, and to have more information, You-Know-Who will have killed half the population of the world. The matters at hand are far more pressing than dreams of lemon drops and peace. This is the first step we have to take together to improve our sad times in this world. What is to be done about You-Know-Who is much more important than petty visions of something that we have never tasted for long."

"You should know of what it is peace means; your people have taken far more than their share of it." The Fairy Queen stated, calmly inspecting her fingernails for dirt.

"You are so small that you have no concept of the larger world, so it would be best if you held your tongue!" The Veela Countess shot back, fully engaged in the job of arguing with undeniable fact.

"If I were to hold my tongue some people would forget I was here!"

"Maybe if you were of importance to our future, we wouldn't forget your presence!"

This was gradually growing to the level of a very bad shouting contest, and if someone didn't do something soon, it was likely to progress to be physically harmful.

"Will you both swallow your arrogance and be quiet! There is nothing to be accomplished if we can't work together!" The Chieftan of the Merpeople shouted over the two voices. He looked as though he would be standing had he had legs. "Thank you. Dumbledore, continue."

"Thank you, Urukaluion. I believe that there is one race that we have not heard from, and that is the sylphs. Present your information." Dumbledore nodded to them.

Eldrid stood (everyone had known that he would be the one to speak; it was obvious) and cleared her throat. "Since it has been long that we have been hidden, and therefore our affairs have not mirrored the affairs of the Free People for many centuries, our part in this war is a strange and seemingly small one. But there is one piece of information that we have to present as new to this counsel, and that is the fact that there was a traitor among our people. We believe that the only logical place for this traitor to have gone would be to Lord Voldemort, and it is rare that our assumptions are wrong. This may be drastic news, and it may not be, only time can tell."

Eldrid sat back down in his seat, and looked to the Veela Countess, waiting for her to say something.

"What is so terrible about a traitor among your people? You can't have that much information if you haven't lived up here for centuries, and what can one sylph do that is so much more terrible than what a traitor among wizardkind would do?" She looked to the party of sylphs for answers. She got them from Lemagne.

"Part of what makes us so different from wizardkind is the amount of power we have in simply our minds. The only reason that it would be impossible for anyone to listen in on this counsel would be the fact that we have been cutting off the hearing of others so it would be impossible to spy on these meetings. We can speak through telepathy, and therefore read the minds of others as they hear things. From the person's reaction, we can figure out what it is they heard, and therefore find much more information about movements than one would have thought possible. If a sylph were to be loyal to Voldemort, they would be able to block us out just as we have blocked them out. Not only that, but we obviously have a very different style of fighting than anyone who is in the Free World, and if the traitor were willing and knowledgeable enough, they could teach the Death Eater ranks to fight in our way. That would give them an advantage in combat, so we will have to teach troops to fight in our ways as well, even if they aren't sylvan. It is grave news to your ears, even though you may not know it, to hear that a trecherous sylph went over to the darker side of magic." That having been said, Lemagne sat back down and quickly transfigured a piece of air into a goblet of water. She took a sip, and crossed his legs. Professor Dumbledore slowly rose to his feet, as no one had any other information to present.

"Now that we are all up to speed on the happenings of our different and distant lands, we may need some time to adjust to our new knowledge. You have, no doubt, plans of your own that you have thought up over these past few dreary months. It would be wise to have a time of reflection on these matters so the various ideas as to what needs to be done can be intelligent and for our benefit. Therefore, I will be excusing you for a recess until 5:00 P.M., which should be more than enough time for you to sort out your possibly muddled thoughts into some form of coherent sensical whimsy. Good- bye, I will see you all later."

There was a great scruffling of papers as all the leaders and wise peoples gathered their notes together for further discussion. Some groups, such as the Korean emperor and empress, arranged a sub-meeting to represent all viewpoints in the best way. This, of course, didn't apply to the sylphs simply because of their abilities to think individualistically as one. Harry was possibly the first to leave the room, as he needed to spend some serious time in the library.

He went directly to the shelf that he needed, and pulled several books from its contents. He walked over to a table, arms laden with heavy tomes of past war accounts, and let them fall to the table with a decidedly louder- than-is-usual thunk. He shivered in embarrassment, hoping that Mme. Pince's eyes would not be on him for the rest of the night. However, it was not her shrewd gaze that followed his form as he sat down at the table. It was Snape's.

It is needless to say that his period of thoughtful study was not for a Hogwarts paper. Snape had left the room, under the notice of Nikiatom, as soon as he had realized that Harry was permanently positioned at the table for the remainder of the afternoon. With a brief glance at the titles of Harry's choice of material (Separation: the Key to the Grey Wizards; Wizarding Class Structure for Muggles; A Review of the Divisionary Period; The Book of Why and How the Feud Started and Still Carries On; and The Great Castes of History), Nikiatom decided that it was his job to lend a hand to the monarch he had grown fond of.

"Na lye lha lom golodh? Nikiatom asked. (What art thou learning?)

le we moth nole?"

"Kano gelydh edain sinda-eva. Harry answered, not looking up from the tome spread gon noldo atani mith." over the table. (Of the commanders of the wise Grey Wizards.)

"Im tir-lye? Nikiatom offered. (May I help you?) le?"

"Nai." Harry agreed. (May it be.)

The two unlikely companions sat together, each poring over the five books. One drew all students' eyes, while the other was barely noticed. They drew the eyes of Mme. Pince, who could not for the life of her figure what it was they had to study. The meetings were so secret that she had no idea what went on in them; neither did she know that their meetings were rushed for fear of spies. Of course, there should be no implication that she was a few wits shorter than a half-wit. She was quite intelligent, and, as most intelligent women tended to do in the early fifties when she had been growing up, she was a librarian for good reason. She had read every book in the Hogwarts library at least twice, and that was nothing to scoff at.

There were, as was earlier demonstrated, so few correct books on the sylvan way of life that she was almost completely unknowledgeable of their form of the Council. Accurate resources were few and far between, or written in a language she couldn't read. All in all, she knew of about two books on sylphs other than those written in English, and one was Chinese and the other in Khuzdul*. She was not only studying them, but trying to figure out if they were crossdressers or if what they wore was sylvan tradition. She tended to lean toward the latter. Of course, that was the least of her worries and/or musings.

Mme. Pince was forced to look away when a very flustered Hermione came flouncing into the library. She quickly dropped off her books in the return bin, then went over to the shelves, book bag slung over her shoulder, filled with homework to be done. She very nearly immediately located the two sylphs reading quietly at a table semi-close to the back of the library, and decided it was her place to join them.

"Hello," she greeted in a whisper, "this is something we haven't done in a while." Harry smiled at her in greeting. "Don't mind me; I know you're researching for the Council of the Races, I'll just work quietly with you."

Nikiatom noticed Hermione give a sidelong glance to the titles of their books. The moment of curiosity was over quickly, and she soon had some Potions homework out. Harry was, by now, thoroughly engrossed in his study.

The Grey Wizards are a band of rebel wizards who led themselves away from the High Wizards in the early thirteenth century. They had originally been of Celtic origin, but have since wandered nomadically everywhere from Japan to the Americas. Not much is known about them since their break from civilized society, as they do not share much of their history and customs with those who are not directly involved in their secretive ways.

Harry quickly skimmed the page, and found that nothing else was mentioned about them. He turned to the index, and found he was on they only page that recognized them in the whole book. That wasn't enough, so he closed it, shelved it, and took out another of the books he had chosen.

It would be hard to recount the knowledge he and Nikiatom gained that afternoon in a brief fashion, so not much will be said about it. Know just that crucial evidence was given them that the Clan of the Grey Wizards had their own ideas about how to go about getting themselves and the world rid of Lord Voldemort.

* * *

"We have come together with one common purpose; to banish You-Know-Who from this earth forever. As of yet, we have not looked at courses of action to fulfill this immediate desire of ours. Now is the time to come forward, speak for your people, and speak your ideas on just what needs to be done. We will not be able to agree on everything, nor will we entertain only one idea today, but in the end we must choose one, and disregard all imperfect plans. To make this terrible choice, it is evident that we will need to combine the ideas of several great minds that are, luckily enough, gathered here in this room." Mr. Weasley looked up and searched the faces of his council, then sat and allowed the first volunteer to speak.

"I'll start." The Veela Countess said, as if no other plans would be necessary. "It starts with the building and training of troops of wizards to assist the Veela Guard-"

"I thought you said the Veela Guard had been slaughtered, madame?" The Fairy Queen asked innocently.

"Right, I did, but there are other Veela trained in the way of the guard, and some that have already been trained, retired, you know, but anyway, on with my point. These Veela soldiers would train the wizards to fight in their style, whilst the real action was going on. A small band of twenty Veela spies would have set out on a boat to Vietnam, where they would locate the citadel by searching through all the jungles of Asia, and when they have found it, they will burn their way back, creating a path to the citadel. The troops that have been training will be alerted immediately and they will march to the citadel and bring it and You-Know-Who down forever." The Veela Countess sat back, looking rather pleased with herself. The rest of the council stared at her in horror. It was the rather direct Fairy Queen who was the first to dare speak.

"You may not have realized this, but burning a path from the Dark Lord's citadel to Vietnam might not be the best idea in the world because a) we would never be able to grow back the vegetation and it is therefore not environmentally sound, and b) you would be leaving a trail straight to your troops so they could attack you by surprise any bloody time they wanted."

"I agree with the Queen," The Chieftan of the Merpeople added, a look of seething tension in his black eyes. "But there is another thing that you have forgotten. It will take several long months to reach Vietnam by boat even with proper motors. By the time your 'small crew of twenty Veelan soldiers' arrives, You-Know-Who will have been able to destroy half the continent of Europe. And, it will be hard to get enough food and water at the right places because soldiers, at least Veelan ones, tend to eat a lot, and you'll be in the middle of the ocean!"

"In defense of this plan, I would just like to say that it is possible to use magic to get more food and water-" The Korean empress of magic started, but she quickly faded off, as she saw Eldrid wanted to speak.

"But the more magic you use for things like gathering food, the less magic you are using to keep your actions hidden from spies. The less magic you are using for stealth purposes, the more attention you can draw to yourelf. The more food you take, the more suspicious the other side will become, and eventually it would fail." He explained.

There was silence in the room. Finally, the dwarf lady took the moment to speak.

"There is one good thing about this plan that we must look at. Before big battles are fought, there would be a small group sent out to find the citadel. That, at least, is a good idea. Maybe, perhaps we could have a smaller group, say somewhere around ten people, but the idea is rather like the one that Draelf and I have been harboring. Would you like to explain it?"

"Of course." Draelf cleared his throat. "We had been thinking that we could send a small group of two dwarves out into the jungles to find the citadel and spy on the dark lord and his minions there. They, once in clear view of the Dark Tower, could alert an army on hold in Bulgaria who would then march to the tower and take it."

"How would the dwarves be in communication?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"With owls, as is wizards' custom. It is the fastest and safest way to communicate in these days." The dwarf lady answered.

"One of the problems that I can see is simply this; dwarves are rather noticeable. They are not of the same stature, appearance, or voice as a human. The Death Eaters and spies would be very suspicious of you, especially if every member of the first company were dwarves. They would draw too much attention to themselves." The Fairy Queen added.

"And another thing." Professor Dumbledore joined in. "It would be dangerous to try and get the troops through Asia. It would raise suspicions of not only the dark side, but also the Muggles of the area. We cannot have an army at the ready."

"What you do not know is that part of the reason the Dark Lord would have chosen Asia to set up his citadel is that it is simply so hard to get to that he wouldn't think of an outright attack, mostly because it is almost impossible to navigate. If a party were to be sent, they would have to have a trained guide with them. We, of course, could provide this." The Korean empress of magic stated, a long gaze in her eyes as though Seeing something.

"We have, so far, decided that before we can take further action, we must find the citadel. Of course, the number of people in the group and who exactly they will be comprised of remains to be seen; perhaps we should hear another plan." Mr. Weasley suggested.

"Have you any ideas, Chieftan?" The Fairy Queen asked.

"As a matter of fact, I have." The merman shifted in his Pensieve. "We would, of course, first need to find the tower. Then, we'd send a band of wizards to the hideout to take it over. There, they would kill off You-Know- Who and take the Death Eaters hostage. Then, one by one, the Death Eaters would be led to the coasts of Japan and China, where a platoon of mermaids and sirens would seduce them into the water, and a second band made of mermen would drown them." There was a meekness in his eyes that belied a voice of confidence.

"This plan seems like it would work." The Veela Countess drawled.

"I would volunteer to be the seeker of the hideout." The Fairy Queen said, wanting to be involved.

"I can see one problem." The Korean Emperor of Magic began, as he looked at his hands. "How would we kill off You-Know-Who?"

"That," the Veela Countess sneered, "is a minor detail." Triskele realized she wasn't very accepting toward darker skinned races.

"As you put it, a "minor detail" that could ruin the whole outlook of this scheme." Dumbledore said, a twinkle alight in his eyes.

"How many wizards would be needed?" Arthur queried, quill and parchment at the ready.

"About five." The chieftan remarked.

"How many of your people?"

"Around one hundred."

"One hundred! That sounds a little unbalanced!" Draelf exclaimed.

"That is how many are needed, including backup." The Chieftan calmly responded.

"You just want attention for your people!" The Veela Countess accused. "You don't want to share the limelight!"

"I never said that!"

"I'm saying it!"

"Perhaps you shouldn't say as much!" The Fairy Queen retorted.

"You, Chieftan, are far too selfish, and think you are far too important." The Dwarf Lady commented.

"And what is wrong with believing my people are important? Not once in the history of wizards have we been recognized for what we do for you and your subjects! We have prevented entire wars by sinking the enemy before they could attack by surprise. We keep the waters free, and no one realizesit. We deserve to be recognized!"

"What about my people?" the Fairy Queen screamed. "Not once have we been remembered! Everyone here secretly believes that these affairs are too big for us to fully comprehend. IN order to do anything, we have to volunteer for it! Well, that's all fine and good up till a point, but a little credit would go a long way."

"You're here, aren't you? That should be recognition enough!" The Veela Countess had a spasm going off in her eye.

"For the amount of good I'm doing I may as well not be!"

"QUIET!" Mr. Weasley shouted.

Everyone was silent. Dumbledore stood.

"There is clearly much bias in this room. Each of us wants to have all the glory. That is why the decision must fall upon the one group of people without any ties to the situation. The decision will be that of the sylphs." Dumbledore nodded at them. There were several muffled agreements from around the room. "Harry, the stand is yours."

Harry rose to his full diminuitive height and cleared his throat. "The meeting will not resume tomorrow, nor any other time for that matter. The less people know in this situation, the less chance there is for spies. In that light, each of us will write a letter to each of you, telling you what to do to help the plan, but you will not have knowledge of what the others are going to do. Expect your letters tomorrow by dinner. We are dismissed."

As everyone gathered their things together in a flurry of papers, the sylphs shared one glance and knew exactly what it was they wanted-needed-to do.

* * *

To the Veela Countess (Briguette),

You will take your people and make a new Veelan Guard. After you have done this, you will send them to the other countries of Europe to gather all information that they can. When you have more information, you will report it to me, Amadeus. Of course, the veela in your guard will be obliged to do whatever they can for our side, and try to keep the people of these assorted countries safe. This may not seem that important, but it is one of the critical jobs of this war.

Another task that has been laid on your shoulders is that of an escort. A ship will be leaving it's port in Saint-Nazaire, France with a small band of wizards and witches bound for Brazil. We think it wise to have veelan protection and escort along the way, so that any spies for Lord Voldemort will not think it that odd.

Thank you for your cooperation, Amadeus

* * *

To the Chieftan of the Merpeople,

You will form a platoon of assorted mermaids, mermen, selkies, and sirens to spy along the coasts of both Asia and South America. A ship will be leaving from the port of Saint-Nazaire, France, bound for Brazil. It is imperative that this ship make it to South America, and as it is such a tradition for your people to protect ships at sea, it will be only natural that you do it one more time. Your task may seem small, but it is very great. Do it well.

Thank you, Lemagne

* * *

To the Fairy Queen,

You offered your help in the jungles of Asia, and it was not forgotten. There will be a small group sent to South America as well, and we would like a fairy spy to be with each. It is your job to select the two you think would be best suited, and to keep track of all information taken by the Veela Countess. This last task will require a third group of spies, and the hardest to obtain. She had us thinking many things at the Council meetings, and one of which was that her actions should be watched. Send at least ten fairy spies to her mansion in France, and we should be covered. You have got a place in the history of this time period at least, and if you are forgotten among big people, it is only because they are too pig- headed to understand your culture.

Thank you for your volunteering, Lemagne

* * *

To the Korean Emperor and Empress of Magic,

You have a great role to play in the great operation that is this quest. Your people are amazing in the natural jungles and forests of the region, and their knowledge of the area matches none other. There will be a band of selected allies in Asia to pursue the great task of finding and killing Lord Voldemort. We, of course, have no right to claim that we do not need guides and that we are completely adequate on our own. We will need a trained team of your choice to guide us. The allies will arrive in Mokpo sometime in late June, and the password will be cordially sent to you at a later date. This task is honorable, like your people, and fits you well.

With all my respect, Eldrid

* * *

Dear Draelf and her Ladyship,

Your task in this war is a noble one. We will be setting up an army in Ireland, where they will have to be trained. We will have a sylvan martial artist teach half of the regime, but the other half will be completely different. In order to have contrast in our fighting style, we need someone that is very ground oriented and stable to teach the other half, and that will be your task. You will supply us with two great warriors to teach this army, as we alone would have no idea how to go about it.

Another thing that has come to our attention is the great craftsmanship of your kind. We will, of course, be needing weapons. It is your duty to supply them. In a few months a list of all those interested will be sent to you, and we'll work from there.

Thank you for your time and talents, Triskele

* * *

To the English Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley,

It is now time for you to learn of our plans for the end of the war. A group of wizards will be assembled together to fight with the Dark Lord in his citadel. That is, first they have to find it. It is imperative that you know this, but not imperative that you know who they are. Names don't really matter that much. What we need you to do is assemble five of your best Aurors together as well as five of your best Unspeakables, and we will choose them from there. One of each of these groups will go to the jungles of Asia, the second two to the rainforests of South America. The ones going to Asia will leave from Swansea, Wales as soon as possible. The others will leave for South America from Saint-Nazare, France sometime in late June.

We will also be gathering together an army in Ireland. The weaponry will be provided by the dwarves, and there will be sylvan trainers and dwarven trainers to teach fighting basics. It is your duty to get the word out in a discreet way that will not let Lord Voldemort and his minions catch wind of it. Be as secretive as you know how. You will also have to negotiate with Ireland for a place to work. You know how to go about such matters, so I will not have to go into great detail.

The army will be dispatched to Hogwarts one day for a final battle. The exact date of this battle will be given to you at a later date. After the battle, you will have a group of Aurors at the ready to arrest all the stunned Death Eaters. They will, thereafter, be taken to Azkaban. There, they will undergo a test by the sylph named Eldrid. After Eldrid has figured whom was guilty, those who are guilty will be given the Dementor's Kiss.

Keep an eye out for the Slytherin murders as of late, they should not be forgotten.

Thank you for your efforts, Harry

* * *

To Professor Dumbledore,

The movements within England and the politics of this war are as follows;

One group of spies will be sent to South America to help the people there and build an army. We would like to request that you get together the old crowd and ask for volunteers on this journey. A second journey will be more perilous. It will take place in Asia, and two of the members of the old crowd are required for it. Suggest this alternative to them and tell me who has decided to do what.

An army will be training in Ireland, and it would be beneficial if some of the seventh years would be sent to the camp to do things like cook and clean and, if they really want to, join it and fight for the side of light. They will need recommendation by a teacher to participate, and will finish their courses on the field with a learned wizard/witch of your choice. Send in the names for us when you can.

The plan is that, on a specified day, all residents of Hogwarts who can not fight for themselves will be evacuated. Then, it will be your task to take down the protective barriers around the school. The Death Eaters will swarm in, but we'll be ready and waiting. None shall die, all will be Stupefied. Then, they will be arrested by a band of Aurors that are handy, and taken to Azkaban, where they will all be given the Dementor's Kiss. Before they receive the kiss, however, they will be viewed by the sylph named Eldrid and tried through telepathy and Searching.

Watch your Slytherin girls, they may have an important part to play in this war.

With all my gratitude, Harry

* * *

To Sirius and Charlie,

I need to meet with you. In fact, I need to meet with all of your people. Can you gather them from the eight corners of the earth by January 17th, the next year? I will meet with them on the Northern island of the Scottish Outer Hebrides. It is too dangerous to explain what will be done in this letter, for fear of interception. All will be explained on that date.

Thank you, I know this is semi-late notice, Harry

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Wow, this took me a lot less time than I thought it would. Again, I'm on a new writing regime. I'm very proud of myself. I know that perhaps some things haven't clicked together yet, but they will eventually. That is, eventually as in not that soon, near the end. I know, I'm an evil writer. Sorry! It'll only make the end more exciting.

To my reviewers:

Anar: Here's more!

bluevanna: Nope, no Harry/Draco. I don't know, maybe it will turn up, but not until the very end. The length of time between this chapter and the last is about how often I'll be updating. I'm writing more weekly then I used to, and it is starting to pay off.

tima: I still have absolutely no idea who Harry will end up with, but it's starting to come to me . . .

The Eternal Firesinger: Yay! You know about fairy and faery as well! I feel appreciated! I loved reading your review, it made me feel all special. I admit that I always thought that Harry should have more grace, and this was an awesome way to realistically change him in my mind. It feels good to know that someone liked how I did it. There might be slash later, I'm sort of figuring that out now . . .

Jordan: Yes, the missing sylph is with Voldemort. I don't intend to stop writing this any time soon.

Sashi: You noticed many of the mistakes that I made in jumping around and all that and such, and I know how frustrating it is to want to have to write notes on a story being read for fun because it's hard to follow. I'm going to rewrite it once I'm finished, as all authors do, to correct a lot of what I think doesn't make sense or isn't explained well enough. Thank you for the criticism.

jenn: Soon enough?

* This is another Tolkien language that I do not own. In comparison with his works, this is nothing but a drop in the bucket (if you'll excuse the cliché.) I will, in my own time, write my own version of sylvan (Tolkien touched on the language he called sylvan), but in the mean time, his versions will have to suffice.