AN: I've been very slack, I know… this is not a chapter but it will probably be the preface for the next chapter, think of it as a short interlude… a little look into the past.

The Fall of the Ministry was by no means a gradual thing. It had been something built up to for generations. Corruption, declining powers and power hungry leadership ensured that. In the end even a person of the purest aims in the beginning would be tainted by Ministry politics simply to keep their jobs.

In the end it did not matter who tried to save it, and many definitely did, the country's faith in the Ministry had failed. But in the end it was not faith that was the Fall of the Ministry, though it very well could have been. Thousands were put out of work by the Fall, hundreds turned before, during and after. The light side was stripped of one of its few defences, no matter how ineffectual it had been.

In the end it came down to the mental damage to the public psyche. Men and Women felt defeated, their government had been overthrown, defeated and if talking in terms of countries their capital had been taken.

It had not taken Voldemort long after his rebirth, a mere two years, to make his move on the Ministry. It was simply ripe for the taking, for years his minions like Lucius Malfoy had had their fingers in the proverbial pie, manipulating, gathering information and blackmailing. All too many decided to cut their losses and turn to Voldemort, after all he was a strong leader, their weak leader never stood a chance. Never even saw it coming. But others did, those unfavourable to Voldemort's cause, muggleborns, muggle-lovers, those not faithful to their families cause and members of the Order of the Phoenix all saw the move coming and yet they could do nothing to stop it. Cornelius Fudge was a weak leader, too trapped in his own views of grandeur to notice the danger, or heed the warnings. In the end it killed him.

The day Voldemort made his move on the Ministry was bloody, workmate against workmate, friend against friend, family against family and no one could be certain who was on which side, who would turn around and attempt to stun or kill you next. Neither side was entirely blameless, both used the most unforgivable of curses, neither side attempted negotiation, neither side showed significant mercy. There were some acts of mercy definitely, a father sparing a son, a sister sparing a brother, a friend sparing an enemy, there was mercy yes, but there was also betrayal, the son turning on the father, allies turning into enemies, families split down the middle in confusion.

Confusion would be one word to sum up the Ministry that day. Confusion and bloodshed.

The battle lasted for hours, on all levels, and no one that had been there was ever the same.

Harry had been there, watched the bloodshed, dealt out bloodshed, and watched as other people's friends and family turned against them. Watched as many made the mistake of turning to Voldemort's side. He could not forgive them that mistake, anything else but never that; once they were on that side they were his enemy once they were his enemy they ceased to be the people they had been before. At least that was what he tried to tell himself, it wasn't true, not really and it didn't really help him feel any less guilty about their deaths.

Their deaths were on his hands, the deaths of people who were not all animals.

There were some whose deaths did not bother him in the least, those who had lost all shreds of humanity or had so few in the first place that the loss meant little to nothing. Lucius Malfoy was one, Bellatrix Lestrange another.

He had not realised just how far a human could fall until he saw her there, killing indiscriminately, enjoying every minute of it… the worst of it was that as far as he could tell she was sane. She knew what she was doing, the consequences of her actions and she relished in it.

She taunted her prey, took pleasure in their deaths and made them as drawn out and painful as possible. He had little doubt that if she had more time her victims would have suffered much more.

He had no second thoughts about shooting her. She was only the fifth person he ever shot up until that point.

Neither did he have any second thoughts about the manner of her death. A lot of wizards maintained up until the end that it was not an honourable or fair thing to do, even in war…a lot of them died.

War wasn't about honour. Not really, it was about winning in the end and in his eyes winning meant by any means possible, even if you have to cheat.

He had no doubts that if Bellatrix or any number of other Death Eaters had come across him with his back turned and no defences they would not hesitate to kill him, or try to. It was unreasonable to expect to win with only the other side willing to use lethal force, or underhanded methods. It was not favourable by any means. The Dark Wars were like that though, unfavourable. It was most likely the most devastating war ever fought on the face of the planet because both sides were determined to do everything they could to win.

They were named the Dark Wars early on in the war for many reasons, first and foremost the amount of Dark Magic used, on both sides. Wars were used in plural because that's what they were, wars. On dozens of fronts in several countries.

There were other reasons they were called the Dark Wars though. Many believed that one way or another these wars would lead them back to the dark ages…Voldemort would win and pull them all back in time to live in the ways they had back then, with himself as a dictator, or they could wipe out or lose the knowledge of their technology through the course of the war, lose the knowledge they had gained throughout the past centuries. Then there was the scariest connotation of all, by use of nuclear technology. Both sides had it, both sides were afraid to use it.

But then again there were never any guarantees with Voldemort.