Disclaimer: Anything you recognise from J.K. Rowling and John Flanagan does not belong to me.

"Something serious has happened," Hermione said, wasting no time on small talk or greetings with the few remaining allies she had. She walked straight to the Pensieve and extracted the memory of her visit to the Ministry from the moment she had met Skeeter.

This Pensieve was modified to be able to project the memory into the air. Nymphadra Tonks, Fleur Delacour, Neville, Bill and Charlie Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Oliver Wood, McGonagall, a fourth year girl named Megan who was specialised in healing and the mind arts (despite her young age), and Aberforth Dumbledore made up their 'Council'. Everyone else who had been part of it was either dead, moved to another country, or no longer committed enough to their cause to show up to the meetings.

After the memory had finished playing, there was a stunned silence. "I think I speak for everyone here, this was unexpected. I'm not really sure how we can respond to this," said Bill. "Nonetheless we need to do something to throw a wrench into their plans without putting ourselves on the line," Dumbledore added.

Headmistress McGonagall spoke up then. "It does seem like Harry is in danger. I imagine whatever has happened to him, he would have tried to send word, at least to Hermione and myself. So whatever he has attempted has likely not worked. It sounds like the Stones transport people somewhere out of the usual methods of contact when certain, as yet unknown, conditions are met. I have a feeling the Agent will make his move soon so the sooner we are ready to follow him if he goes to the Stones and stop him, the better."

There were murmurs of agreement. "I should do it," Hermione said. "I've been preparing to search for Harry recently and I trust you lot to keep an eye on these other people, especially the Assassin. I'll set up by the Stones under an invisibility cloak and my undetectable spell set and make sure nothing happens. If the Agent or anyone else shows up, I can watch how they interact with the Stones and stop them if needed. I have a trunk which I can live out of and is stocked with many supplies. I've tried to prepare it to be completely self sustainable. I should be able to find Harry easily enough if I can get to wherever he is. I don't believe he is dead... I think... I-I think I'd feel it if he was."

Neville reached out awkwardly and squeezed her shoulder in an attempt at comfort. Hermione couldn't help the few tears that leaked out of her eyes, but she wiped them away, focused on the task at hand. If there was any chance of her being able to help Harry survive and find a way back to the Wizarding world, she would take it.

"I have another thought," Luna said after a minute or two of silence. Everyone looked at her expectantly. Luna's two words got the Council thinking hard. "Vanishing Cabinet". They puzzled over that comment for a moment before she elaborated. "Bring one with you, Hermione, and we'll have one here. So whatever happens, we can gradually work on how to link them up from however far apart they are. The magic in the cabinets should help with that, and be able to bypass time or space with enough research and experimenting. Even if it takes years, it might be the only feasible way to get Harry back here if we can't figure out how to use the Stones."

Hermione wrapped her arms around the blonde. "Thank you, Luna. That's a fantastic idea." She turned to look at everyone. "I'll be going now. I want to be in position in case anything happens. If I get too tired, I'll ask Kreacher to watch for a time. I'll miss you all," she said, hugging everyone in turn. She hugged Luna extra tightly, and Headmistress McGonagall couldn't help a few tears escaping her eyes. She was strict and not usually one for softer displays, but she couldn't help it this time. She felt she now might be losing her other favourite student, though she wasn't meant to favour any students over any others.

"Don't you worry, Miss Granger. We'll keep trying to figure out what is going on with this new group and discover what's happening with the Minister. You're right, it's best to go now, before anything can happen. Go now and be safe, and send word."

Hermione found herself compelled to get out of the meeting, before she was tempted to lock herself in and stay with her remaining friends. She apparated to Hogwarts and called, "Kreacher!" The raggedy, though now proud, house elf popped to her within a moment, trunk all ready as she had requested. "You are ready to go, Miss?," he asked.

"Yes, Kreacher. Do you know of the Runic Stones nearby? They are at these coordinates on this parchment, that's where we are going. We need to keep watch for someone with a hooked nose and probably a black cloak. We will take it in turns to keep our eyes out for him. Do you understand?" Kreacher nodded. "Then let's go," Hermione said.

An hour or so after setting up their watch, the Agent showed up. He was masked under heavy notice me not spells and Hermione, who was on watch, didn't sense his presence, masked as it was. Fortunately, as he finished the ritual with the Stones, Kreacher felt the pulse of the magic and informed Hermione, whom he had taken to serving in place of Harry.

Hermione felt like her stomach had dropped to ground level as she heard Kreacher's words and she started breathing faster as her mind frantically tried to work out how to figure out how to follow the Agent.

-Page Break-

It was close to midnight when the single rider reined in his horse outside the small cottage set in the trees below Castle Redmont. The laden pack pony trailing behind the saddle horse ambled to a halt as well. The rider, a tall man who moved with the easy grace of youth, swung down from the saddle and stepped up onto the narrow verandah, stooping to avoid the low-lying eaves. From the lean-to stable at the side of the house came the sound of a gentle nickering and his own horse's head rose as he answered the greeting.

The rider had raised his fist to knock at the door when he saw a light come on behind the curtained windows. He hesitated. The light moved across the room and, a second or so later, the door opened before him.

"Gilan," Halt said, without any note of surprise in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

The young Ranger laughed incredulously as he faced his former teacher. "How do you do it, Halt?" he asked. "How could you possibly know it was me arriving in the middle of the night, before you'd even opened the door?"

Halt shrugged, gesturing for Gilan to enter the house. He closed the door behind him and moved to the neat little kitchen, opening the damping vent on the stove and sending new life flaring into the wood coals inside. He tossed a handful of kindling into the stove and set a copper kettle on the hot plate over the fire chamber, shaking it first to make sure there was plenty of water in it.

"I heard your horse some minutes ago," he finally said. "Then, when I heard Abelard call a greeting, I knew it had to be a Ranger horse." He shrugged again. Simple when you explained it, the gesture said. Gilan laughed again in reply.

"Well, that narrowed it down to fifty people, didn't it?" he said. Halt cocked his head to one side with a pitying look.

"Gilan, I must have heard you stumbling up that front step a thousand times when you were studying with me," he said. "Give me credit for recognizing that sound once more."

The younger Ranger spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. He unclasped his cloak and hung it over the back of a chair, moving a little closer to the stove. It was a chilly night and he watched Halt measuring coffee into a pot with some anticipation. The door to the rear room of the house opened and Will entered the small living room, his clothes pulled on hastily over his nightshirt, his hair still tousled from sleep.

"Evening, Gilan," he said casually. "What brings you here?"

Gilan looked from one to the other in something like despair. "Isn't anybody surprised when I turn up in the middle of the night?" he asked, of no one in particular. Halt, busy by the stove, turned away to hide a grin. A few minutes earlier, he'd heard Will moving hurriedly to the window as the horses drew closer to the cottage. Obviously, his apprentice had overheard Halt's exchange with Gilan and was doing his best to emulate his own casual approach to the unexpected arrival. However, knowing Will as he did, Halt was sure that the boy was burning with curiosity over the reason for Gilan's sudden appearance. He decided he'd call his bluff.

"It's late, Will," he said. "You may as well go back to bed. We have a busy day tomorrow."

Instantly, Will's nonchalant expression was replaced by a stricken look. The suggestion from his master was tantamount to an order. All thought of appearing casual departed instantly.

"Oh, please, Halt!" the boy exclaimed. "I want to know what's going on!"

Halt and Gilan exchanged a quick grin. Will was actually hopping from one foot to another as he waited for Halt to rescind the suggestion that he should go to bed. The grizzled Ranger kept a straight face as he set three steaming mugs of coffee on the kitchen table.

"Just as well I made three cups then, isn't it?" he said and Will realized that he'd been having his leg pulled. He shrugged, grinning, and sat down with his two seniors.

"Better make that four cups, Halt," Harry said, emerging from his trunk where he slept. Halt grinned and prepared an extra cup.

"Very well, Harry. Now, Gilan, before my apprentice explodes with curiosity, what is the reason for this unexpected visit?"

"Well, it has to do with those battle plans you discovered last week. Now that we know what Morgarath has in mind, the King wants the army ready on the Plains of Uthal before the dark of the next moon. That's when Morgarath plans to break out through Three Step Pass."

The captured document had told them a great deal. Morgarath's plan called for five hundred Skandian mercenaries to make their way through the swamps of the fenlands and attack the Araluen garrison at Three Step Pass. With the Pass undefended, Morgarath's main army of Wargals would be able to break out and deploy into battle order on the Plains.

"So Duncan plans to beat him to the punch," Halt said, nodding slowly. "Good thinking. That way we control the battlefield."

Will nodded in his turn and said in an equally grave voice, "And we'll keep Morgarath's army bottled up in the Pass."

Gilan turned slightly to hide a grin. He wondered if he had tried to copy Halt's mannerisms when he was an apprentice, and decided that he probably had.

"On the contrary," he said, "once the army's in place, Duncan plans to withdraw the garrison, then fall back to prepared positions and let Morgarath out onto the Plains."

"Let him out?" Will's voice went up in pitch with surprise. "Is the King crazy? Why would…"

He realized that both Rangers were looking at him, Halt with one eyebrow raised and Gilan with a quizzical smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Harry, in contrast, was clearly deep in thought, thinking through the logic of what the King was planning to do.

"I mean…" He hesitated, not sure if questioning the King's sanity might constitute treason. "No offense or anything like that. It's just—"

"Oh, I'm sure the King wouldn't be offended to hear that a lowly apprentice Ranger thought he was crazy," said Halt. "Kings usually love to hear that sort of thing." Harry couldn't help but snort at Halt's sarcasm.

"But Halt…to let him out, after all these years? It seems…" He was about to say "crazy" again, but thought better of it. He thought suddenly of his recent encounter with the Wargals. The idea of thousands of those vile beasts streaming unopposed out of the Pass made his blood run cold.

It was Halt who answered first. "That's just the point, Will—after all these years. We've spent sixteen years looking over our shoulders at Morgarath, wondering what he's up to. In that time, we've had many of our forces tied up patrolling the base of the cliffs and keeping watch over Three Step. And he's been free to strike at us any time he likes. The Kalkara were the latest example, as you know only too well."

Gilan glanced admiringly at his former teacher. Halt had instantly seen the reasoning behind the King's plan. Not for the first time, he understood why Halt was one of the King's most respected advisers. Harry was similarly impressed. When he had been at Hogwarts, he had mostly jumped into situations with a reckless hero complex as Hermione had said. Now, however, having spent some time with the Rangers, he was beginning to realise the value in a good plan and was far more interested in strategy.

"Halt's right, Will," he said. "And there's another reason. After sixteen years of relative peace, people are growing complacent. Not the Rangers, of course, but the village people who provide men-at-arms for our army, and even some of the barons and Battlemasters in remote fiefs to the north."

"You've seen for yourself how reluctant some people are to leave their farms and go to war," Halt put in. Will nodded. He and Halt had spent the past week traveling to outlying villages in Redmont Fief to raise the levies of men who would make up the bulk of the army. On more than one occasion, they had been met with outright hostility—hostility that melted away as Halt exerted the full force of his personality and reputation.

"As far as King Duncan is concerned, now is the time to settle this," Gilan continued. "We're as strong as we'll ever be and any delay will only weaken us. This is the best opportunity we'll have to get rid of Morgarath once and for all."

"All of which still begs my original question," Halt said. "What brings you here in the middle of the night?"

"Orders from Crowley," Gilan said crisply. He placed a written dispatch on the table and Halt, after an inquiring look at Gilan, unrolled it and read it. Crowley was the Commandant of the Rangers, Will knew, the most senior of all the fifty Rangers in the Corps. Halt read, then rolled the orders closed again.

"So you're taking dispatches to King Swyddned of the Celts," he said. "I assume you're invoking the mutual defense treaty that Duncan signed with him some years ago?"

Gilan nodded, sipping appreciatively at the fragrant coffee. "The King feels we're going to need all the troops we can muster."

Halt nodded thoughtfully. "I can't fault his thinking there," he said softly. "But…?" He spread his hands in a questioning gesture. If Gilan were taking dispatches to Celtica, the sooner he got on with it the better, the gesture seemed to say.

"Well," said Gilan, "it's an official embassy to Celtica." He laid a little stress on the last word and suddenly Halt nodded his understanding.

"Of course," he said. "The old Celtic tradition."

"Superstition, more like it," Gilan answered, shaking his head. "It's a ridiculous waste of time as far as I'm concerned."

"Of course it is," Halt replied. "But the Celts insist on it, so what can you do?"

Will looked from Halt to Gilan and back again. The two Rangers seemed to understand what they were talking about. To Will, they might as well have been speaking Espanard.

"It's all very well in normal times," Gilan said. "But with all these preparations for war, we're stretched thin in every area. We simply don't have the people to spare. So Crowley thought…"

"I think I'm ahead of you," said Halt, and finally, Will could bear it no longer.

"Well, I'm way behind you!" he burst out. "What on earth are you two talking about? You are speaking Araluen, aren't you, and not some strange foreign tongue that just sounds like it, but makes no sense at all?"

Halt turned slowly to face his impulsive young apprentice, and raised his eyebrows at the outburst. Will, subsiding, muttered, "Sorry, Halt," and the older Ranger nodded.

"I should think so. It's more than obvious that Gilan is asking if I'll release you to accompany him to Celtica."

Gilan nodded confirmation of the fact and Will frowned, puzzled by the sudden turn of events. "Me?" he said incredulously. "Why me? What can I do in Celtica?"

The moment the words had left his mouth, he regretted them. He should have learned by now never to give Halt that sort of opening. Halt pursed his lips as he considered the question.

"Not much, probably. Perhaps ask interminable questions, interrupt your betters and forget to do your chores, I suppose. The real question is, Can you be spared from duty here? And the answer to that is 'Definitely.'"

"Then why…" Will gave up. They would either explain or they wouldn't. And no amount of asking would make Halt deliver that explanation a second sooner than he chose to. In fact, he was beginning to think that the more questions he asked, the more Halt actually enjoyed keeping him dangling. It was Gilan who took pity on him, perhaps remembering how closemouthed Halt could be when he chose.

"I need you to make up the numbers, Will," he said. "Tradition-ally, the Celts insist that an official embassy be made up of three people. And to be honest, Halt's right. You're one who can be spared from the main effort here in Araluen." He grinned a little ruefully. "If it makes you feel any better, I've been given the mission because I'm the most junior Ranger in the Corps."

"But why three people?" Will asked, seeing that Gilan at least seemed disposed to answer questions. "Can't one deliver the message?"

Gilan sighed. "As we were saying, it's a superstition among the Celts. It goes back to the old days of the Celtic Council, when the Celts, the Scotti and the Hibernians were one alliance. They were ruled then by a triumvirate."

"The point is," Halt interrupted, "of course Gilan can take the message to them. But if he's a sole messenger, they'll keep him waiting and fob him off for days, or even weeks, while they dither over form and protocol. And we don't have that sort of time to waste. There's an old Celtic saying that covers it: One man may be deceit. Two can be conspiracy. Three is the number I trust."

"So you're sending me because you can do without me?" Will said, somewhat insulted by the thought.

Halt decided that it was time to massage Will's young ego a little—but only a little. "Well, we can, as a matter of fact. But you can't send just anyone on these embassies. The three members have to have some sort of official status or position in the world. They can't be simple men-at-arms, for example."

"And you, Will," Gilan added, "are a member of the Ranger Corps. That will carry a certain amount of weight with the Celts."

"I'm only an apprentice," Will said, and was surprised when both men shook their heads in disagreement.

"You and Harry wear the oak leaf," Halt told him firmly. "Bronze or silver, it doesn't matter. You're one of us."

Will brightened visibly at his teacher's statement. "Well," he said, "when you put it like that, I'd be delighted to join you, Gilan."

Halt regarded him dryly. It was obviously time for the ego-stroking to end, he thought. Deliberately, he turned to Gilan.

"So," he said, "can you think of anyone else who's totally unnecessary to be the third member?"

Gilan shrugged, smiling as he saw Will subside. "That's the other reason Crowley sent me here," he said. "Since Redmont is one of the larger fiefs, he thought you might be able to spare someone else from here. Any suggestions? Should Harry accompany them?"

Halt rubbed his chin thoughtfully, an idea forming. "I think we might have just the person you need," he said. He turned to Will. "Perhaps you'd better get some sleep. I'll give Gilan a hand with the horses and then we'll go up to the castle."

Will nodded. Now that Halt mentioned sleep, he felt an irresistible urge to yawn. He rose and headed for his small room.

"See you in the morning, Gilan."

"Bright and early." Gilan smiled, and Will rolled his eyes in mock horror.

"I knew you'd say that," he replied.

"Harry, come with us. The Baron and I would like to talk to you about a mission" Halt said, gesturing for him to follow them outside.

-Page Break-

He had never been in so much pain. He felt like his mind had disintegrated when he had activated the Stones, and was now trying to regenerate along with his body. Despite the pain, he staggered towards where he sensed the boy's presence. Harry Potter, Bane of Voldemort, Boy Who Lived, Reckless Hero. The boy had many titles and he was the target he had been preparing to take down. He was the Agent and he had a golden record of completing his missions thoroughly, taking his time and making sure the job was done properly.

He saw the boy leave with two other men. He waited for them to cross the hill. He could see they had horses. If they had a dog, his presence would notify them. So they had to be far enough out of range to not hear the warning. He considered taking him down as he was walking with the other men towards the castle he could see in the distance, but realised that he was better off surprising his target when he returned to the cabin. His surprise would lower his guard long enough to make a cleaner job of it, he figured.

Once the men were sufficiently far from the house, the Agent wasted no time in sprinting silently towards the house. The Silencing spell made sure he would not be heard, and his disillusionment spell meant that people would have trouble locating him.

Will was nearly asleep when the horses signalled the presence of someone approaching that they were unfamiliar with. His training asserted itself as he crouched into the shadows of his room, attuned for the slightest sound. He didn't have time to fetch his wand from Harry from the other side of his room. He heard the front door creak open. He was sure that the intruder could hear his racing heartbeat and hitched breathing, but he trusted his training and carefully rose to his feet, readying himself to burst out of his room in an instant should the need arise, or surprise anyone coming in. He had been trained to sleep with his weapons close to hand even in the cabin and was now glad of the fact. He could imagine how the situation could be different if he couldn't reach them.

Some moments later, he heard the man in the corner of the kitchen where Harry's trunk was... HIS TRUNK! Could that be what the man was after - he had gone straight for it, though it was visible. His heart was racing. He tried to keep his mind clear, but thoughts of the Wargals and his arrows missing their marks flashed into his mind. He was determined to stop whoever this was trying to take Harry's trunk, but feared he wasn't up to the task. He had been beginning to doubt himself a lot since that encounter.

Once the quiet grunt indicated that the intruder was lifting the trunk up, he burst out of the curtained room with a rapid motion. "Stand still with your hands above your head," he shouted, voice cracking with the tension of the moment. To his surprise, the man he now saw ignored his drawn bow and pointed a stick at him... a WAND! He tried to jump out of the way of whatever spell was coming but was too slow registering what was happening. How on earth did someone other than Harry who could use a wand be here and what on earth did he want?

Will found he couldn't move, he was frozen in place. He could still think normally but only his mind and his eyes were able to move. He couldn't scream out for help. The man laughed cruelly at him. Just before he touched the trunk, the horses sounds of alarm increased in volume. Swearing quietly, the man strode out of the room and a minute later, all three horses were silent.

Will's mind was spinning a mile a minute. Harry had told him that people who could cast spells without saying them aloud had better control of magic than most wizards. What had happened to the horses? He sincerely hoped that Tug, Abelard, Hermes, and Blaze weren't badly injured... or dead... He wanted to cry at the very thought of it, but his body was completely frozen and so he could not.

What did this man want with Harry's trunk? Was there nothing he could do to overpower this spell? No answers came to his mind. The man returned and reached down for Harry's trunk. To Will's delight, a series of pops and sparks sounded the momet his fingers made contact. It seemed Harry had set some magical protections on his trunk. A surge of hope lightened his spirits, but started fading once more as the man started casting an assortment of magic at it with his wand and using a few items he had never seen to, he assumed, try and negate the protections on the trunk.

Halt and Gilan bedded the horses down while Harry got out the mokeskin pouch he had been given by Hagrid, then the three men strolled through the fields toward Castle Redmont in companionable silence. Gilan, attuned to his old teacher's ways, sensed that Halt had something he wanted to discuss, and before too long, the older Ranger broke the silence.

"This embassy to Celtica could be just what Will needs," he said. "I'm a little worried about him."

Gilan frowned. He liked the irrepressible young apprentice. Harry felt sympathy for Will. When his young friend and Halt had returned, Halt had shown him the memory of the encounter with the Pensieve. The Wargals were definitely unnerving but at least he now knew what they were like and could start coming up with magical ways to help the Araluens deal with them with minimum casualties. "What's the problem?" Gilan asked.

"He had a bad time of it when we ran into those Wargals last week," Halt said. "He thinks he's lost his nerve."

"And has he?"

Halt shook his head decisively. "Of course not. He's got more courage than most grown men. But when the Wargals charged us, he rushed his shot and missed."

Gilan shrugged. "No shame in that, is there? After all, he's not yet sixteen. He didn't run, I take it?"

"No. Not at all. He stood his ground. Even got another shot away. Then Tug took a hand and backed the Wargal off so I could finish it. He's a good horse, that one."

"He has a good master," Gilan said, and Halt nodded.

"That's true. Still, I think a few weeks away from all of these war preparations will be good for the boy. It might get his mind off his troubles if he spends some time with you and Horace."

"Horace?" Gilan asked.

"He's the third member I'm suggesting. One of the Battleschool apprentices and a friend of Will's." Halt thought for a few moments, then nodded to himself. "Yes. A few weeks with people closer to his own age will do him good. After all, folk do say I can be a little grim from time to time."

"You, Halt? Grim? Who could say such a thing?" Gilan said. Halt glanced at him suspiciously. Gilan was, all too obviously, just managing to keep a straight face.

"You know, Gilan," he said, "sarcasm isn't the lowest form of wit. It's not even wit at all."

"What about irony though?," Harry said, but immediately stiffened when he felt the alert wards he had placed on his trunk activate. Someone was trying to take over the trunk... And Will! The young Ranger had just gone back to bed!

"WILL!," Harry yelled, not caring that it was the middle of the night and his yell might wake half of Redmont village (which they were passing through on the way to the Baron's office). Halt snapped to attention quickly. "Harry, wait. Harry, what is going on?," he barked in an authoritative voice, taking command of the situation.

Harry didn't stop to answer, instead throwing the briefest explanation he could as he sprinted full tilt towards the cabin. "Someone's trying to break into my trunk. The wards on it notified me and Will is in that house. Only a wizard would be able to do that." Halt's face paled in horror and Gilan, while a bit baffled, understood enough to realise the gravity of the situation, and together the two Rangers sprinted after the wizard.

As Harry crested the hill to the cabin, he could see spells flashing from within the cabin, exactly where his trunk was being stored. Suddenly, they faded and the night became dark and still. He fished around for Moody's magical eye, and it helped dispel the darkness, though it was only one eye, which disoriented him somewhat.

He burst into the cabin to find the kitchen badly damaged, with a small stool set on fire, scorch marks and damaged floorboards. Will was motionless just outside the curtain to his room. Harry swore repeatedly as he realised that the man had just escaped. He hastily cast the counter curse at Will, mangling the pronounciation the first time so he had to try again. Then he bolted out of the house, kicking the front door open once more, which unfortunately went smacking straight into Gilan as he tried to enter to help, Halt close behind.

There was confusion on the front steps for a few moments before Harry was off. Knowing the advanatge of letting them know a bit of information, he shouted again as he ran, scanning the darkness for any trace of the attacker. "Check the horses. Will's ok."

Without warning, as he was circling towards the back of the house, where the forest started, his mind exploded in pain as he felt a strong Legillimency attack. Whoever was doing it was very skilled and would give Voldemort a run for his money.

Disoriented, heart exploding in a frantic beat from the tension of the moment, and worry, and the long desparate sprint, Harry was on the back foot in the mental struggle. Gritting his teeth to focus through the pain, he staggered forwards, trying to sense where the attacker's mind was. He realised a moment too late that the attacker had circled back around and was shooting a spell towards his back.

Halt let out a relieved breath when he saw Will was unharmed and ran back outside to watch Harry as Gilan checked the horses. He saw a faint outline of a man who was barely visible and seemed to blend into the surroundings rise up from a walking crouch and send a spell towards Harry's back before he could call out a warning.

Harry felt the sting of the cruciatus curse immediately and that, coupled with the Legillimency attack, almost incapacitated him, but desperation fought back. Body screaming in agony, he howled in fury and fear in equal measure, and turned to face the assailant.

His attacker was clearly under a well placed disillusionment charm, and in his pocket he saw his trunk, shrunken. His body seemed to burn hot with rage but chill with shock simultaneously. His aim was impaired because of the spells, but he managed to send a stream of curses towards the man. Half of them clearly missed, but a Finite Incantatum spell managed to hit, cancelling the disillusionment charm.

The man before him had a maddened look in his eye, similar to professor Moody. He had a hooked nose which looked like it had been broken numerous times, cold and calculating eyes, a thin mouth with a very sharp moustache and sallowy skin.

The man cast a leg locker spell at him directly after a cutting curse. He dodged the first one but the leg locker hit him, sending his legs spasming. Harry could cast the counter curse easily enough but his first priority was to make sure this man couldn't escape.

He cast the anti-disapparition spell, though the non-offensive spell opened him up to being hit with an Imperius curse. He could fight it off, of course, but it took him a few moments to manage it. To his shock, this wizard was able to continue a constant Legillimency onslaught against his recently developed occlumency shields. It was all Harry could do to maintain his focus and prevent the man passively detecting what Harry was about to cast before he cast his spells.

"Carpe retractum," he whispered, having learned that yelling spells just announced to an opponent what you were going to do. A rope from his wand tied itself around the spellcaster and began to drag him towards Harry. Harry had quickly followed it up with the Marauder's signature spell for dangling someone in the air by their ankle. He had followed that with a tongue-tying curse which also hit, forcing him to cast silent spells only, but the man managed to raise a solid shield by the time his Petrificus Totalus would have hit, reflecting it back at him.

Dodging the petrification spell, which would have ended him if it had hit, he cast more rapidfire spells at the man, anger and desperation to stop this man stealing his trunk, which had so much value to hiim, lending power he wouldn't normally use.

Harry swore as an Accio spell summoned his glasses leaving his vision blurry. For some reason, the man didn't use the killing curse, but did send another Crucio towards Harry, which also hit, followed by a Diffindo which sliced a fair gash in his right arm. Howling in pain, the man finished up with a Soporium, a sleeping spell, which no one would have been able to counter, but fortunately Halt had thrown himself between the last curse and Harry, instantly falling asleep.

Gilan came running up towards him. "Stay back," screamed Harry, sending Bombarda and Diffindo curses liberally in the general direction of the man. After a series of these, a final, powerful knockback spell sent Harry flying backn as if he had been hit by a speeding train, towards the roof of the Cabin, some hundred or so metres away.

Blinded, scared and furious, Harry's body was fighting to stay conscious and not shut down. He was in the best shape of his life, but it wasn't enough to keep up with this man. Acting entirely on instinct, as he slammed into the roof, Harry reached his hands out and grabbed the edge of the roof, twisting himself around to break his momentum, which resulted in him slamming into the ground on his front, knocking all the wind out of him and leaving him groaning in agony. His arm was bleeding more profusely as the twisting to break the momentum as he nearly hit the roof had opened the considerable gash wider. As his consciousness was dimming, he let out a series of swear words which a sailor would envy. Gilan hurried up behind him, "He's gone, Harry. It's too late," he said, sadly. And with that, Harry's world went black.

-Page Break-

Some hours later, Harry regained awareness. A huge groan of pain escaped him as his body screamed in pain. His eyes wouldn't focus, his head was pounding, his arm felt like it was on fire, his entire body felt like it was spasming, his energy was completely spent and he felt incredibly dizzy. People rushed around him, putting a cup to his lips. He managed to sip and felt a hot mouthful of coffee and honey revive a bit of his awareness.

"I-I-I c-can't see..," he stammered through dry lips. "Your glasses are smashed, Harry," Gilan's voice said. "Pass them here," Harry managed to whisper. As Gilan obliged, Harry said, "My wand...," and he cast the Reparo spell on his glasses. Putting them on his face, he could finally see but part of him wished he had chosen to keep his vision blurry.

He saw Gilan's worried face staring at him, and Will sitting sipping his own cup of coffee. All of a sudden the events of a few hours earlier crashed into him, sending his mind reeling. "Th-That man... he took my trunk... Must get it back...," he mumbled. Gilan's gaze narrowed. "Right now, you can't go after him. You need to get better."

"Didn't try to kill me, just incapacitate me... He wants my trunk and something else... Must find out what it is...," Harry said. Gilan's face took on a thoughtful look. "Harry, can you do anything to wake up Halt? He's been sleeping for the past few hours and we can't do anything to rouse him. Will has gone earlier to get the Baron and Sir Rodney and they've done what they can but Halt being unresponsive really shook them, At least Horace has been available to help - we had to explain our mission to Celtica and what happened here to them and Sir Rodney told Horace to prepare for the trip then meet us here," Gilan said.

Harry started casting what healing spells he knew, though they were pitifully few, on himself and felt his body become a bit more responsive. "Bring Halt over here, I can't get up yet," he said. Gilan called to Will and they went to do as he had asked. After a few casts of the Finite Incantatum spell, the Soporium was overpowered and Halt opened his eyes with a start.

Gilan explained what had happened to Halt, who's eyes darkened with concern and anger. How dare this brute come and attack Will, who was like a son to him, Gilan, a much loved former student and good friend, Harry, a young man full of surprises who was now also feeling like a son, and himself! He would do everything he could to help Harry get back at this twisted man.

"Harry, I can't begin to imagine how you are faring after that. Gilan, go into the village and get Horace. You, Will and he need to go. I'll look after Harry and we can work out what happens next now. You have the mirror, I'll contact you and keep you informed, but we need to continue with the mission."

Harry moved uncomfortably, scrabbling for his wand which his fingers had dropped a minute ago, having lost their grip. "Halt... hot bath, will help me function better... More coffee and some water if you can manage... But first.. Bring me an old item, like an old boot or pot or something," he said tiredly. After a brief look of surprise exchanged between the three Rangers, Will hurried inside to make some coffee and bring out the lid of a saucepan.

With the remaining dregs of energy at his disposal for the time being, Harry made a portkey. "Pull the top of the lid and it will bring me to you from wherever I am, Will. It's a modified portkey, which you know a little bit about. If you're in trouble there, use it." Will nodded his understanding.

Harry pulled himself to his feet and wearily hugged all three men before trudging carefully towards a bed, then a hot bath. Gilan nodded and called to Horace, wh came out and gave a gentle squeeze on Harry's uninjured shoulder. "That bastard made four Rangers and me angry. A stupid move. He will get what he deserves, but first you need to rest and take care of yourself until you are ready to take him on. Don't be beaten, be better, someone told me the other day. I'll miss you, and I'll miss your cooking. Get that trunk back so I can try some more pizza flavours," he said seriously. Harry, despite himself, couldn't help but release a weak chuckle and a smile. "Thanks, Horace. I appreciate it. I'll call you on the mirror soon. Take care in Celtica," he said.

-Page Break-

With that goodbye, the party of three set off. Halt spent the next few hours helping Harry regain his strength. The healer in Redmont village had come over while Harry was unconscious and provided some medicines he could take, which Halt used as best he could. A hot bath helped to ease the pain from the Cruciatus particularly and with a blood replenishing potion Harry had in his mokeskin pouch, which he fortunately still had with him, helped to get Harry back to nearly his normal self.

After that, he and Halt sat at the table and discussed what happened next. "I can't help Crowley anymore. I need to track this man down. I'll follow his footprints, try and breakdown any magic he may have used if I can. I will find him if it's the last thing I do. And I will prepare as best I can on the way to take him out when I find him."

"Very well, Harry. It's understandable, and it is needed. This man is dangerous, he paralysed all our horses and Will, put me to sleep, and caused you a whole lot of pain, as well as stealing your trunk, which holds so many amazing things from your world. I'll do my best to keep watch here in your absence."

Halt left to go and talk to the Baron after that, and Harry sat slumped in his chair, considering what he had to work with. He had his wand, a few potions, his broom, his Invisibility Cloak and his communication mirror. That was all he had in his mokeskin pouch and everything else was taken by the hook nosed man.

Harry was now glad of his dedication to training, asborbing as much as he could of the Rangers, Couriers and Battleschool Apprentices as he could. Where possible, he would meditate in place of sleep, he had researched a lot of spells and his training had got him much stronger than he had ever been in Hogwarts. He had spent a lot of time memorising the geography and various fiefs in Araluen so he could figure out the most likely path the man would take. He had learned to put himself in the mind of other people and analyse situations. All of his training would help him catch this man and he would, if it was the last thing he did.

Before he set off with nothing more than his Mokeskin Pouch, and a pack of supplies, Harry extracted the memory starting from Gilan's late night visit to when he blacked out after the fight and left it for Halt, in case showing Baron Arald, Sir Rodney, Lady Pauline, and Crowley might be needed.

-Page Break-

He beamed a delighted smile, not caring that he displayed his slightly crooked teeth. He was on the way to Celtica. That was where he would find his second target. The wizard was powerful, too powerful to be easily killed last night, but he would get a reprieve until he found the object he was seeking deep in the mines of Celtica. That was where his tracking spell had led him. Soon he would be living a life of luxury and the rewards he so deserved for completing his tasks.

A/N - So there we have it. Longest chapter to date I believe. And it's action packed. Yes it's a little darker than book 1, but there's a reason for it. Morgarath's plans are coming to fruition and there's a lot happening in the Wizarding World as well. After this book partiuclarly things will be lighter. Please let me know what you all think.

A/N 2 - Question to you Readers - should there be more wizards/witches than just Harry and Hermione eventually? Should anyone else from the Council find their way into Araluen or would you like it to be kept to just the Golden Duo? Let me know.

As always, thanks for reading and stay tuned... :)