Chapter Twenty-One: Through Destiny

Albus drew his hand over Ari's forehead, pushing away the bleached blond locks and thinking grimly of the world outside. He thought of the first war, when Erised had stood strong, bold, and complete with the other Order of the Phoenix members. He thought of the countless stupid memories that make up the in between times of war. The times when soldiers become comrades and friends and there are subtle reminders of what everyone is fighting for.

He could still hear the laughter ringing against the walls over left over pizza and stale alcohol. The Longbottoms sitting across from the Potters, throwing bent cards on the table and swearing they'd never again play against them, knowing full well that the promise would be broken next Friday. He could see Sirius and Caradoc Dearborn tumble on the floor like children as Hagrid and Mad Eye discussed the redeeming qualities (if there were any) of Dragons. And in the corner of the room, he could see Erised reclining purposefully in the window ledge, watching her human counterparts. She'd always be still, with one leg bent on the sill, and the other one dangling over the edge. Her arms would be crossed, or sometimes she'd be holding a newspaper or book she'd be pretending to read while she watched them. She loved to watch them. Albus use to catch her eye every once in a while to smile at her and nod and she would return the look with bowed head and a soft smile before going back to her study. She had loved watching life but had never taken part it in.

He had always secretly wondered if Severus had let her live and that's where her undying devotion had come from.

Albus tilted his head suddenly, hearing something from outside the infirmary. He turned his body as he stood, staring at the door, waiting. Outside, coming closer was a gentle rhythmic tapping as someone with a cane came closer.

The doors opened and admitted a man dressed in a fine white linen suit, and fedora who walked with the aid of a dark brown cane that was craved with some primitive art. The cane was a piece of art, to be sure, with a white tip that trailed into dark brown and cravings Albus could not see at this distance. "Headmaster Dumbledore," The man started. "At last we meet again. I remember telling you then that you would become a Wizard, and indeed you have fulfilled my every wish for you." Dumbledore stood, taking a step in front, between Ari and the stranger. The man noticed this and laughed. "You don't remember me, do you?"

"Should I?"

"Now I am disappointed," He replied. Lifting his head, the man removed his hat and bowed. As he rose, and stepped forward, light finally began to pour unto his features revealing a narrow, aged face and features that made his face seem older then it was somehow. His light brown eyes were wide, round, and immediately trusting, lending an almost grandfatherly appearance to his soft smile. "But this reunion is for another time. My business lies with St. Michael."

"And I'm afraid, I can't let you touch Erised."

"And you're going to do what exactly? Fight me?" Imre smirked. "I thought you were above such brute means. Why don't you just step aside and leave the sinners to the devil. You still have people you can save."

"She's not dead yet." Albus said, shortly, reaching for his wand.

"But she's already mine." Imre looked annoyed as picked up his cane. He sighed quietly and rolled his shoulders. "But, have it your way then."

"Fuck me running!"

Severus winced as he sat up, rubbing his side. He threw his head back and inhaled heavily, willing himself to stand. Pushing up, one foot at a time, he stood. Only to be thrown back as Radella slammed him with another curse. He fell back down, biting down as the pain enveloped him. He stood again, and this time Choice was the one who descended on him. Choice, unlike Radella, seemed unwilling or unable to harm Snape physically. He seemed only able to keep Snape down while Radella took her time.

"Is this the man who has made the nations tremble?" Radella hissed, as she stalked towards him, kicking his chin. "Look at you, you were once grand and all powerful…where is your true nature? I feel it inside of you, longing for release. Why not? Why do you cling to your compassion? I know you have the power to kill us even now! Why not accept what you are? Stop fighting!"

"Why don't you just shut up and kill me, eh?" Snape hissed as he sat up.

"Avada Kedreva!"

"I didn't mean literally!" Radella had a blank look on her face, as she took a step forward then collapsed. Snape blinked and looked up.

Kiernan Malone was standing there, with his wand aimed now at Choice. Choice had jumped back, staring wearily at the man but making no action for defense. He was staring at Kiernan waiting. "You okay, my Prince?"

Severus looked up at him, and nodded dumbly. "Although, I have to admit, I never thought you'd rescue me."

Kiernan glanced at him, and shrugged. "It's a family tradition, isn't it? What do I do with him?"

"What you do to all monsters." Choice said, "you destroy them."

"I've seen monsters, boy." Kiernan remarked. "You're nothing to fear."

"What else could I be? I've destroyed everything I hold dear."

"Then you're a fighter, just like the rest of us."

Snape had stood now, picking up his wand and shaking his head to regain himself. He inhaled, as he turned to watch Choice. A million things were running through his head- none of which he truly understood or really want to feel right now. He released the breath he didn't know he was holding. "Let him go, Kiernan."

"Can we trust him not to curse us while our back is turned?"

"He has no reason to. I'm not his enemy. Neither are you." Snape stared at Choice for a long time before inhaling. "I don't think he knows who the true enemy is here. Till he does, he lives."

"How can you spare my life when I have killed Jackie and Erised? When their blood and how many others is on my hands?"

"Because I'm tired of being judge and jury when my own sins are unaccounted for. It's time this all ended."

"At last something we agree on, father."

Kiernan turned, wand poised on Mordred as he appeared. Mordred smiled at him, flicking his wrists in the moonlight, letting the familiar Hawk and Phoenix emblem glisten menacingly. Snape licked his lips and inhaled, deeply. He swallowed heavily, refusing to acknowledge the revelation that came with Mordred donning Hawke's famous armor. "Kiernan, thank you but I believe there are others who will need you're help."

"I cannot leave you."

"This is not your fight."

"We Malone are guardians of the rightful Prince. Would you have me betray my family?"

"You may very well be the last of the Malone, be careful not to betray them by allowing your blood to die tonight."

Kiernan frowned and stepped forward. Snape reached up and touched the St. Michael pendant. Begrudgingly, Kiernan bowed. He turned to Choice and narrowed his eyes. "Run, Coven. Find whatever reason you can to continue to live and run. If you cannot live, then die with honor…"

Choice inhaled wordlessly, before ducking and running away. Kiernan turned once more, watching Mordred before walking away himself. Severus closed his eyes for a moment, hand still lingering over the necklace. So many had died tonight, and before and would after and he was getting tired of it. He exhaled shortly, and turned to look up at the stars. He wondered for a moment if he stared long enough into them would he understand everything that ever happened under them, and everything that was hidden from them. He wondered if it was possible to understand these things.

And would it even matter now.

"Are you looking for absolution, father?" Mordred asked quietly. "Tell me, does this give you any peace? After all even as an Auror all you would create is destruction…are you so surprised then, that your son would also know only death?"

"You don't want to know my mood, Mordred, don't act like you do." Snape said as he turned. "So why don't we end this?"

"Never have you made me happier…" Mordred said, pulling his wand and screaming. "Tenjin!"

Snape screamed as his hands flew to his left eye, over the familiar mark of his Princehood. He jerked his head down, hiding it from view as he fell to a kneeling position. Lord Voldemort, it appeared, had taught his new Prince how to punish the old. He felt the scars over his eye searing and he screamed again. He forgot how much that hurt.

"I have to admit, that is a neat little trick." Mordred laughed, quietly. "Get use to it father, you'll be begging for death before I'm done…but each in it's own time. I will earn my kingdom."

Remus practically tackled Amissa as she appeared beside him. She laughed slightly and clung to him long enough to bury her nose in his shoulder and kiss his cheek. She felt his strong arms around her, clutching to her for some semblance of assurance she was okay.

"You shouldn't be out here, Amissa." Remus said, urgently. "Get back inside. If Gideon saw you…"

"Gideon's dead, Remus." She cut him off, ignoring his look of pain. "And I'm needed out here."

"I thought you were staying inside with Erised."

"I was but you guys need my help more." Amissa said, pulling away. She turned and squatted down by Angelo, drawing her hands over his back and his stomach to mend the burns. She chanted in Runic as she brushed his skin and watched, somewhat grimly, waiting for Angelo's Kaga immunities began to take over. When it did not happen, she frowned, looking down and staring at Angelo. He looked away, wincing from the pain and forcing her to employ to the more in depth healing she reserved for humans.

"You never did tell me who you're parents were." She said, quietly. "I thought you were Malone."

"I am," Angelo said smartly. "Through marriage. My mother married Eoin Malone when my father died. I took Eoin's name when I was four."

"You're not a blood relative."

"I am Eoin's son. In every way that matters." Angelo said, sitting up. He looked up at Amissa with a look of silent rebuke. "After all, I was Malone enough for you to hate me."

"And now? What else are you blood enough to do?"

Angelo was prodding his newly healed wound as he stood. "I am strong enough to protect my Charge till I die or his fate is sealed."

"Your Charge?" Remus asked, glancing at Amissa. "What does he mean?"

"Harry," Amissa whispered. "You're protecting Harry, aren't you?"

"My father spent many years training me in warfare and protection, and it is a task Professor Snape took up once he died. Snape has asked me to protect Harry with my life and I will not fail him now."

"Angelo," Amissa called. "You're injured. I healed you but it's foolish to go so quickly back into the fight. Stay here where it's safe."

"We all have a roles to play in this, Professor Moon, please do not deny me mine." Angelo said smartly before turning and walking away, towards the direction Harry had taken.

Amissa fell back into Remus' arms, exhaling. "He's a fool. They all are."

Remus wrapped his arms around Amissa and kissed her. "We are all, you mean. Don't forget, we're out here too."

"I'm frightened, Remus."

"Me too, Amissa. But don't worry. Stay close to me and you'll be safe."

"Don't lie to the girl, Remus," Growled a voice, that caused Remus instantly to release Amissa and swing to his feet, hands out like claws. Amissa looked up and caught the image of a man, also standing poised for battle without a wand. His green eyes were pouring deep into Remus and on his thin lips were a smile that immediately brought Silas Malfoy to mind. "You'll be dead before the day's over." The man hissed. "And so will anyone who stands in my way."

"Leave her out of this, Ezra." Remus shouted, growling deeply as he sidestepped to stand between Amissa and Ezra. "She's not a part of this."

"You brought her into this." Ezra countered. "When you dared choose her and her kind over your pack! After we have done everything to protect you! You betray us! For a human!"

"This isn't about pack loyalties, Ezra. It's about what's right."
            "I say what is right for our pack, not you!" Ezra stepped back, arching his back as he prepared for an attack.  "And you seem to have forgotten that." He tilted his head. "No matter, Riener will probably be more of an apt pupil."

At the sound of his son's name, Remus howled and tackled Ezra. The elder werewolf took hold of Remus' shoulder, lifted him up and threw him like a rag doll. Amissa screamed and moved to stand, but Ezra was quicker, driving his weight into a powerful uppercut that sent Amissa too sprawling onto the ground. Remus was up on his feet by the time Amissa slide to a rest. He paused, and called to her but there was no reply. Amissa wasn't moving, and there was a thin lip of blood coming from her mouth. He couldn't see her breathing, nor discern any sign of life.

Remus howled again, and turned back to Ezra. "You'll pay for that!" He shouted and threw himself again at his leader.

Peter Pettigrew had been a quiet, unassuming child who had always taken what he viewed as the safest route. He had never meant, nor wished for anything to come to him that was big, adventurous or new in anyway. His bravery had been the kind born out of an understanding that strong ties to important people made you important as well. To that end, he had always been attracted to the best sort of peoples. He had learned to be charming but forgettable, able but not paramount, and above all, to be loyal to a certain rational extent.

He was in truth, not some grand traitor. It wasn't that he lacked the genius or prudence to be cunning but he found it a waste of time. He had simply followed the change in the winds so to speak and had adapted accordingly. Heroes and villains were grandiose titles that he never much cared for. He preferred quite simply to be Peter. And to be Peter, he needed to be alive.

James and Lily wouldn't have understood this, even if he had sat them down and explained it to them as children. No, they were too immersed in Dumbledore's lies (and indeed they were lies because there was nothing honorable about being dead) to understand the finer nuances of compromise. Sirius Black would have been the same way. Not that Black would have cared for the grandiose titles or even, Peter secretly thought, for the crusade of justice and truth the Potters were after. No, Black would only understand loyalty to his friends, and if that meant dying for their adopted cause, so be it.

Maybe Remus would have understood. Remus was always the smartest of the group. He had been quiet, unassuming and an outcast. He had been a killer before any of them had dared murdered in the name of good. Remus understood things, probably because of his wolf nature, as not about values or codes, but rather survival. After all, even if you had a cause- you couldn't do much good for it dead, could you?

But none of his careful observations or painstakingly rational choices that had kept Peter alive for so long matter now, as he slumped to his knees, struck by the Killing curse.

His arguments would have fallen on deaf ears had he tried to explain this all to Harry Potter, who presently drew back his wand, stunned by his own actions but not regretting them.

Harry was, after all, his parent's son.

And currently, he was reeling from the fact that he had now killed twice in his life. He remembered the feeling of utter despair that had followed Kaiya's death and was a little alarmed that he felt none of that now. In fact, if he were perfectly honest with himself, Harry would admit he felt happy Peter was dead…

He felt justified.

"And it does get easier, doesn't it?" Harry jumped as he heard the cold, deep voice only to be thrown into waves of pain as his scar began to burn, screaming out the new enemy's identity. Voldemort smiled a thin, tight-lipped smile. "Feels good, doesn't it? To hold within your hands to power over life and death. It's euphoric, knowing that it is your choice, no, your whim that someone will continue their miserable existence on this earth, or be sent into the next. The words become like honey after a while, I promise and soon, you'll be quite certain there's nothing lovelier then what they produce…as long as it's for other people. To think, I offered you all that, and you refused me. I still offer it, Harry. Think about it, I can give you godhood, and nothing will stand in your way and all you have to do…is ask."

"I'll never join you!" Harry shouted, feeling rage well up in his throat. "You think you have all the power, all the strength but you're nothing but smoke and mirrors! You're nothing but a sniveling, cowardly little mudblood who's afraid of the Dark! You're someone who can't fight his own battles and has to rely on Princes and demons to fight for you! You're nothing but a pack cards!"

"Crucio!" Voldemort shouted.

Harry fell to his knees in pain, but he didn't scream. Biting down, hard on his tongue, he tasted but blood but swore he would not scream. He would not give Voldemort that satisfaction. He felt the curse release after what seemed like an eternity but was closer to a few minutes later, and looked up, panting.

Voldemort had stepped back and was staring at Harry, in disbelief. In his eyes was a look of utter shock, as if he had seen someone before hold such resolve under the curse, and had feared this creature. Harry smiled as the grim discovery sunk in. Now, Voldemort feared him too.

"Brave little puppet." Voldemort said, recovering. "It appears your Professors have taught you well. But it will make little difference. Like that night in the graveyard, you're alone. There is no one here to save you."

"He's not alone." Angelo said, coming unto the scene, and glancing at Harry.

Voldemort sneered. "Am I dog? To be chased by little boys with sticks? I'm ashamed, Angelo. You were the son of a great man, a true warrior, and yet you betray him by joining the half-breeds and weaklings."

"I would rather bow to child like Potter then serve a mudblood like you, sir." Angelo quipped with the slightest bit of cheek, merging with his familiar respectful tone.

"Then die for him like others have already done! Avada Kedreva!"

Angelo ducked away from the curse, spinning around and shouting a counter curse at the Dark Lord. Harry watched in horror as Voldemort laughed at the curse, before sending out one that sent Angelo flying. Pulling his wand, Harry jerked away from the curse that Voldemort sent, ducking low and waiting for his time.

"Crucio!" He heard Angelo shout, wand out and blood coming from his eye. Angelo glanced at Harry for a split second before shouting. "Well don't just stand there! Shoot!"

"Crucio!" Harry shouted, aiming his wand at Voldemort as well.

The counter was quick and painful, sending both boys hurtling to the ground. Harry and Angelo sat up at the same time; blinked at each other and jumped up to go again. Harry knew that this would be the battle that Dumbledore had been protecting him from for so long. He was thankful not to go through it alone, even if his partner was not Ron or Hermione but rather a Slytherin he had barely met. He looked over at Angelo who was fighting fiercely against Voldemort for his own reasons.

And somehow, he knew everything would be okay.

After all, there was a red sun peering over the horizon that promised a beautiful new day was coming.