Disclaimers: Dark themes, police state ideas, mention of spousal abuse (including rape) on and off-screen, death of minor characters, graphic imagery and violence, frank sex discussion, copious bad language, bashing the fucking Weasley's and Dumbledore, liberties taken with mythical history and the HP real-life timeline.

Hermione was confident that her plan would work. She didn't make a habit out of failure. But even so, she was nervous as she and Enola rehearsed their chanting, a key part of the ritual they'd designed for this task. Hermione simply wrung her hands and focused on the spell, as Harry assessed them from the altar of the Ritual Room, hopeful that she wouldn't lose him in all this. But the whole thing was fraught with risk.

After all, opening Harry's Dark mindscape to the world at large could leave a gaping hole in the Earth itself, if it wasn't handled correctly.

But that's exactly what they were trying to do. Hermione had been playing with the idea for several weeks now, ever since Harry had told her that Enola had managed to successfully close down her own mind plains save for one, which is where she kept Neville's painful secrets hidden inside her. So it was possible … Enola had done it.

And, by Hermione's logic, she must have dealt with whatever issues she had there beforehand.

That realisation had led her to think about Harry. His plains were darker, more volatile by far, but the principles was essentially the same. So she'd sought out Enola for an explanation on how she'd done it for herself. And the seeds of an idea took root in Hermione's epic brain. Enola coming to the same realisation focused both witches to the same course, all that was left to do was to iron out the finer details.

Enola explained that she had used the Ritual Room … the only time Harry had ever let another human use it for magical purposes without him … and projected her inner demons into the energetically charged space, then had defeated them in a forum she could control, with Harry and Neville standing by outside in case she needed their help.

But Enola Longbottom was as belligerent as she was strong and endured all her trials alone, not stopping until she had overcome them.

Not that she hadn't suffered in the aftermath. Mind Magic was something not to be taken lightly, should be left alone entirely if possible. Fracturing the mind was a control mechanism … reconstructing it required serious mental strength to manage. It also needed a different type of healing and round-the-clock support. Bursts of accidental magic, bouts of delirium and hallucination, not to mention a headache so ferocious that Enola felt as if her skull was being ripped apart. It wasn't an experience she would recommend to others.

But Harry wasn't your usual other. Constantly in pain, prone to episodes of low-level mania every now and then, his day-to-day life wasn't too much unlike Enola's recovery period. It was this understanding that intrigued him to Hermione's plan, but there were other considerations that had to come into play before he agreed to any of it.

"It isn't just the risk that my inner darknesses might rend a hole in the universe when released," Harry joked darkly, when Hermione pitched her scheme to him after she'd concluded her demonstration with Enola. "There's another potential threat that I've only recently discovered."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Hermione frowned. "What is it this time?"

"I've confirmed who it was that Riddle killed to create this final Horcrux," Harry began. "A trophy death, like all his others … one that provides a significant threat, but also a potential opportunity."

"Who is it? And how did you find it out?" Hermione demanded. "You haven't left the palace since we recovered the Horcrux."

"Ah … about that," Harry started, guiltily. "I … have a bit of a confession. But don't be mad for too long … it's given me the seed of an idea."

Hermione folded her arms over her chest. "This had better be good."

So Harry took a deep breath, then made his confession. Hermione narrowed her eyes in her trademark scowl and huffed as Harry finished his story. He looked at her in an apologetic sort of way, but she was very cross with him.

"What do you mean you tortured Ron without me?" she chuffed. "That was supposed to be a family activity!"

"I know and I'm sorry … I just wanted a go at him myself first," Harry explained. "Look, you took the actual kill from me. I have to be allowed some fun with my old pal."

"Okay, I suppose you have a point," Hermione replied, though she still wore her little frown.

"Besides," Harry continued. "This is a gift that will keep on giving."

Hermione thought about that a moment. Then her eyes lit up "You mean we can do it again?"

"And again and again, if you like," Harry grinning. "At least until we decide to end his miserable life."

"I do like," Hermione sniffed haughtily. "But I still retain ownership for the final kill."

"Of course," Harry smirked. "Have you decided on a method yet?"

"Yes … yes, I think so," Hermione replied. "Would you like to hear it?"

"I am all ears for this," Harry nodded, his eyes flashing darkly. "Hit me with it."

"Okay. But don't go all mental at my reasons."

"All right," Harry allowed, cautiously. "But the end had better be worth that disclaimer."

"Well, the worst part, of all the tortures he put me through, was the regular raping," Hermione started, taking Harry's hands soothingly as he winced at her words. "They were worse than the beatings, even with his tiny cock. It was worse than his punches, his slaps, the clumps of my hair he ripped out. Bruises fade, bones heal, my hair grew back.

"But the rape was more intimate. He was inside me, see. Physically in my body. I can never wash enough to get rid of that. He soiled me."

"So … what's your vengeance?" Harry ground out, angrily. "If you are short on ideas, I have a few of my own."

"Well, I found this book on mediaeval torture in the library," Hermione went on. "And there was this one method that was … inspiring. So, I'm going to adapt it for my purposes."

"What are you going to do?"

"Firstly, I'm going to castrate him," Hermione announced. "Then transfigure his cock until it's about nine-feet tall. Then I'm going to put a sharp tip on the end. Then, I'll strip him naked, put his arsehole onto the cock-spike, and let gravity slowly drive it through his body, until his own bell-end comes out of his mouth and his ginger pubes - which I'll transfigure into razor-wire - scratch his throat to pieces on the way through. It will take a few hours and I'm thinking of getting a bottle of wine, and some cheese and biscuits … and settling in to watch every brutal second of it."

Harry blinked at her in stunned silence. "Wow, just wow. Okay, I like that. There's just one serious question, I suppose."

"Which is?"

"Red or white … for the wine, I mean?" Harry grinned.

Hermione laughed at that. "Maybe a bottle of each? We'll be there a while, after all. Might as well make an evening of it!"

"I'm sure our old buddy wont begrudge us dinner and a show as we end him," Harry chortled. "Do you want to see what I've don't to him so far?"

"I'd be delighted," Hermione grinned."

Harry repeated his process from before, drawing all the magic of the Ritual Room to his control, then pulled Ron's spirit back to the place.

And even he was surprised by what he saw.

For Ron was sat with his knees hugged into his chest, rocking side to side and muttering to himself. His head was wobbling with little shakes as his lips flapped open and closed at a rapid pace, making an incoherent mumbling sound as his unfocused eyes looked at some far away target.

"What did you do to him?" Hermione quirked, as she watched Ron's insanity course through him.

"I pushed his head through into the next world," Harry explained. "He was like this when he came back. Wouldn't surprise me if half his mind is still in there."

He nodded at the Veil, flapping away in front of them.

Hermione huffed. "And you were shocked at my kill idea? There's artistry in what you've done, honey."

"Glad you approve," Harry chuckled. "What's that he's saying? I can't make it out."

"Something about his mother, I think," Hermione frowned, kneeling down next to Ron and listening to his mutterings. "It's like she's telling him off and he's making excuses for himself. Oh … now that's an idea!"

"What is?"

"Watch this," Hermione grinned. She drew her wand and pulled some of the swirling magical mist to her, forming it into a large, rotund shape. Then she cast a mimicking charm on her voice.

"Ronald! You naughty little boy! Get up off that floor this instant!"

Harry burst out laughing. Hermione had made herself sound like Molly, and thrown her voice to come from the vague shape standing over Ron. He obeyed the order and got up, swaying drunkenly on the spot.

"Now, for being such a disappointing son, I want you to punch yourself in the bollocks three times," Hermione commanded in her sternest voice.

And Ron did as he was told, doubling up in agony as the third blow connected. Harry just hooted with laughter as he watched.

"And now," Hermione went on. "Let's see if we can get your brain to work. Go to the wall over there and head-butt it for a full minute."

Ron, again, did as he was told, but knocked himself cold after twenty-five seconds. His spirit form vanished as he hit the floor.

"Oh, crap! Did I kill him?" Hermione complained. "I hope not. That's not how I want it at all!"

"No, I don't think he's dead. It's more likely that his lack of consciousness means that there isn't enough mental energy to make a stable connection," Harry speculated. "Not that Ron has much mental energy to spare as it is. Interesting. Wow … I really fucked his mind up, didn't I? Maybe we should leave him like that, keep feeding him the Elixir of Life for eternity, so he suffers until the end of time."

"There's merit in that," Hermione pondered. "But, no … I want to kill him. I'm really looking forward to it. I might leave it till Christmas Day, give it to myself as a present."

Harry laughed. "That's a grand idea. We could put a bow on him and everything."

"No," Hermione said, decisively. "That's months away. I'm not waiting that long. But tell me something else … how did torturing Ron lead to this revelation about the Horcrux?"

"I've been thinking about what this particular Horcrux will employ as a defence mechanism," Harry began. "It got me remembering the first one we destroyed and that led on to thoughts about the others."

"Defence mechanism for this Horcrux?" Hermione queried. "I thought I was it … along with Lucy, Teddy and that spawn of Ginny's?"

"You are … or, at least, you are a line of it's defences," Harry replied. "But the others all had defence mechanisms built in, remember, ones that used parts of Riddle's sacrificed humanity to protect them. It makes sense that this one will, too."

"I'm not sure I follow," Hermione frowned.

Harry led Hermione back to the altar and sat her down patiently. There was a certain smugness he adopted when he was able to expand Hermione's knowledge of the world. It wasn't something that happened often in this configuration.

"I never fully explained it, did I, that day we found the first decoy that had trapped the soul of poor Minerva McGonagall?" Harry started. "So I'll do it now. Riddle's Horcruxes were complex, deliberate and brilliant pieces of magic, despite how dark and evil they were. They acted as soul anchors to this world, but each one cost him a little bit of what it meant to be whole and human … namely his senses. He had to sacrifice all five of the physical ones, plus aspects of his heart and mind … but it was a price he paid willingly, all for his stab at immortality.

"His plan was to create seven Horcruxes, as seven is a magically powerful number. It just fell neatly that we can crudely break down the experience of life into seven distinct sections … these being what we see, hear, taste, smell, touch, know in our minds, and feel on an emotional level. Riddle gave up one to each Horcrux … and designed a defence of the object related to that sense."

"How so?" Hermione pressed, fascinated.

"Let's go through them, shall we?" Harry encouraged. "Let's start with the Gaunt Ring … it was worn on the hand, it represented touch. It was physical, and when Dumbledore wore it …"

"It poisoned him! It attacked his body!" Hermione cried.

"Good wife!" Harry grinned.

"Is that how they all worked then?" Hermione asked, excited at knew understanding entering her brain. "If the function of the object was followed, it would trigger the defensive response?"

"Exactly right," Harry nodded. "Take Riddle's diary, for instance. It was a diary … Ginny Weasley wrote in it … and the defence was activated."

"And it went for her weak mind," Hermione scowled. "It possessed her, allowed Riddle to bleed into her psyche."

"And use her as an avatar for his schemes," Harry reminded her. "Riddle used Ginny to slaughter Hagrid's chickens, to open the Chamber of Secrets and to set his basilisk to attack students. It was little more than a coarse and vulgar Imperius Curse set into the pages of the book. It was probably one of Tom's first dabbles with the Unforgivables."

"So he probably would have ended it by making Ginny look directly into the eyes of the basilisk when Riddle was done with her, and she'd have died," Hermione mused. "Pity it never got that far, really."

"Quite," Harry chortled. "But that's how they all worked … Hufflepuff's Cup took away taste and appetite …"

"So you'd die of thirst or hunger!"

"The Diadem sat on the ears and whispered to the brain to drive the wearer mad, probably to the conclusion of suicide. The snake was simply a thoughtless mistake, using a living host. But Tom was desperate by that point and barely clinging to life, not sure if his other Horcruxes were still intact. It cost him his own sense left - smell - and his nose died, rotted and fell off … unless he cut it off himself."

"Disgusting," Hermione spat, wrinkling her nose. "But you're forgetting one … Slytherin's Locket … you never did tell me what it showed you."

Harry grinned maliciously. "I wasn't joking when I said that the Locket contained Tom's original eyes. They actually looked out at Ron and I when we opened it. But what they had been really doing was looking inside us as we took turns wearing it. It centered on the thing that would divide us in the most fundamental way. It chose Ron as the point of greatest weakness and tried to exploit his doubts and fears."

"And what did he fear so much that it drove him to such a betrayal when he walked out on us?" Hermione demanded.

"He feared you and I … getting together," Harry revealed in a whisper. "Even Riddle admitted that it could have gone that way, even back then. He acknowledged it openly, said that all Ron desired … getting you before me … was possible, but that all he feared … us getting together … was also possible. It showed him an image of us as dark and malevolent shadows having a proper passionate kissing session.

"It drove Ron over the edge and he raised the Sword of Gryffindor. I thought for a moment that he was going to bring it down on my head, but at the last minute he stabbed it into the Locket. That was the end of that."

Hermione blinked hard in her shock and surprise. "Riddle used that as a weapon against you … against us? Even all that time ago?"

"Like I said, he may be evil, but Tom Riddle isn't stupid," Harry quipped.

"I know that, but to think that he might have shipped us … and then used that to corrupt Ron as an attempt to thwart our efforts to stop him … that's more than a little creepy!"

"I think that's where his fascination with you began," Harry mused. "He saw how important you were to me, recognised the major role you played in my life. He saw that you were both a potential threat to him, and a serious weakness of mine. He knew that I drew so much of my strength from you that he wanted to turn you to his side, or control you in some other way."

"Why not just kill me?" Hermione asked.

"He had greater uses for you alive … and he also wanted to understand this unique magic you had created for yourself, the one that warded you against him," Harry reminded her. "Killing you would have robbed him of a fascinating object of study."

"That entire notion still makes my skin crawl," Hermione shuddered. "But we have our own object of study, and you said that has potential threats, too. As well as an opportunity. Tell me your thoughts about it."

"If we assume I am right, the only aspect of life left for Tom to sacrifice is his emotion, his love … and the only thing he loves about himself is his magic," Harry responded. "I think he will defend that with his hate … and only one magical figure in recent history hated as much as he. And Riddle hated that he resisted him before his death."

"Grindelwald!" Hermione hissed. "You think his soul is trapped inside Gryffindor's Seal?"

"No-one else, besides me, would be such high-value for use in a Horcrux," Harry confirmed. "And he is the only wizard who might have the power and malice to beat me."

"I don't agree with that. Dumbledore was more powerful and you beat him."

"Ah, but you're forgetting the target area of the Horcrux," Harry pointed out. "It would be my heart … to get to the battle with Grindelwald I'd have to kill four things I love. I wouldn't have the will to fight on if I'd been forced to kill you, a sense magnified by the love Riddle thinks I have for the other Protectors."

"Like you said, it's quite brilliant," Hermione huffed, crossly. "So until we get all the Protectors together and find a way to undo our links to the Horcrux, we cant destroy it."

"No. And I think if we try, the defence mechanism will activate and kill at least one of you. Tom knows that I wont risk that being you … so we are hamstrung on that front."

"But not on others," Hermione returned, stoutly. "It makes our next steps clear … and we can test my theory along the way."

"Well, as we still have no idea where to find Teddy Lupin, I assume you can only mean that we turn our attention to Ginerva De-Mort?"

"It is the most logical place to focus now," Hermione confirmed. "We need to get hold of that clone she's made of you. Not only will it help us break the power links to the Horcrux, but it's the best chance we have to heal your physical wounds. The boy is a hybrid of you and Ginny, born from a womb that had carried children sired by Riddle. The genetic material is there to form the basis of a cure.

"We need that clone … and we can dispose of Ginny in the course of acquiring him."

"So where does your theory come in?" Harry asked.

"We need to close those Mind Plains of yours, one at a time," Hermione replied. "We can kill Ginny as the act that brings down the curtain on the House of Weasley … thus closing your Dark Plain about them."

"But Ron would still be alive," Harry pointed out.

"I think Ron belongs in the Plain dedicated to me," Hermione argued. "We'll close that one when I get closure over him."

Harry nodded as he considered that. "Okay. I think I'd accept your logic there."

"Good. So, when we kill Ginny, not only do we end the Weasley family, but we bring some peace to our God-daughter, as well as getting hold of the clone. Ginny's influence in our lives will be over … and the Weasley Plain need no longer exist in your mind."

Harry's heart soared at the prospect. His entire body felt electrified with something that felt temptingly like healing. It brought his mind into sharp focus.

"Okay … we go for Ginny. When?"

"Tonight," Hermione told him, forcefully. "We have intercepted some interesting intelligence. The scummy Miss De-Mort will be on Diagon Alley later. There is a performance of A Tale of Two Cities at the Palladium … we understand that there will be a lot of the senior Death Eaters and their families attending the show as part of some sort of celebration."

Harry sighed and closed his eye, then began to recite dramatically. "It is a far, far better thing I do now, than I have ever done … a far better resting place that we send that dirty cunt to … then she has ever deserved to know …"

"I don't think they are the words, honey," Hermione smirked.

"I know, but I like my version better," Harry grinned. "Maybe I'll petition for a change in the text!"

"You can re-write the whole thing if you like," Hermione chuckled. "But first, get hold of Dietmar and your ZGD friends. Have them rig the theatre with high-energy magical explosives … maybe even a hidden Fiendfyre spell or two … to go off just as the show starts. It will be a dynamite performance!"

"And if Ginny's other kids are with her?" Harry asked, cautiously.

Hermione's expression dropped to darkness. "They are children not only born of a Riddle and a Weasley, but were also used to damage my parents' souls. My mercy doesn't stretch that far, Harry. They will be casualties of war, and better off dead than living the half-life they are right now."

Harry and Hermione stood in the shadow of the London Eye, watching the waters of the Thames ebb and flow beneath the bridge. Tourists flashed their camera phones at Big Ben, red Buses with loud slogans roared past and street vendors offered their wares along the riverbank. All the while, armed police still patrolled the streets of the Capital. Muggle Britain was still in a state of mourning after the murder of their monarch, and security had never been tighter.

Harry checked the time in on the illuminated face of the famous old clock.

"We wont have long," he breathed to Hermione, as they descended the steps toward Westminster tube station. "Five, maybe ten minutes. No more."

"Plenty of time," Hermione whispered back. "I just want to make certain she's dead. I don't intend to stretch it out. I can't stand the dirty skank. I don't want to inhale any more of the air her filthy breath will pollute than I have to suck in."

"Kill strategy? One more time?"

"Twin blade spring knife, right in the back," Hermione recited. "Pop open the mechanism and puncture her lungs. While she's drowning in her own blood, conjure ropes, hang her from the balcony. Then, find her clone spawn, take him with us. Make sure the ZGD bombs go off them it's away home to work on a healing antidote for you."

"That's my girl," Harry nodded. "I'll be right with you the whole time. If we run into trouble, don't stand and fight. The bombs will go off at 8pm … whether we are out of there or not."

"Fine. We Apparate at 7.59 then," Hermione seethed. "I want to kill her, but she's not worth dying over."

"Right. How's the Polyjuice feeling?"

"Horrid, as always," said Hermione with a grimace. "Tastes like Goblin Piss. Or so I'm told. "Why couldn't I have had an Invisibility Tuxedo made, like yours?"

"It takes months to spell the fabric," Harry explained. "You have to do it in clumps of fibres. Takes ages. Besides, we're only going in for nine minutes. This thing cost sixty-thousand Galleons. I've used it loads of times."

"It fucking what!" Hermione cried in shock. "That's extortionate! Right, that's it. No more extravagant clothes purchases for you. That's my gold you are frittering away. I'm taking over family finances from now on. You can't be trusted not to piddle our money up the nearest tree!"

"Yes, you're quite right," Harry laughed. Then his expression hardened. "Right, time to go. Apparate on three."

A three count later and Harry, invisible as he was, materialised on a bay window parapet and led Hermione to the second level balcony boxes of the Diagon Alley Palladium. The narrow corridor outside was thronging with people and they had to be very careful to navigate their way through them without drawing attention. There were five booths this side. Ginny owned Box Three and Dietmar and his ZGD Agents had told Harry ten minutes previously that she was there, standing and milking the acknowledgements of the other Death Eater families as they entered the cheap seats down below.

"Ready?" Harry breathed.

Hermione nodded. Harry eased open the door to the booth and stole inside, while Hermione hung back against the corridor wall. She heard Ginny admonish one of her children for not locking it properly, and the door began to close again. Hermione blocked it with her foot, letting the door bounce back open, and she darted through before it could close again.

Hermione looked around swiftly, taking in her surroundings. Ginny was facing the crowds as they filed in, turned away from her spawn behind her. The one who had been sent to close the door looked up and Hermione bit in a gasp as she saw him …f or his eyes were jet black. No colour, no feeling … no nothing. But he looked like a child apart from that. His face twitched in surprise at Hermione's sudden appearance.

Then he opened his mouth to speak.

There was a quick wisp of air, a dim puff of light, and suddenly both he, and the other boy, sat in a seat to the left, froze in place as Harry's silent spell hit them both. Harry, himself, and cupped his hand around the mouth of his tiny doppleganger. It was a strange sight, to see Harry essentially restraining a child-version of himself. It was jarring to say the least.

Hermione wasted no time. Springing to action she drew her blade, her wand too, then she stole up stealthily on Ginny, casting a Silencing Charm on her as her wand tip became lost in that ruler-straight cascade of coal-black hair.

"Good evening, Ginevra, the Potter Family says hello," Hermione whispered in her ear … then she drove the knife down hard beneath her shoulder blades before Ginny even had a second to respond.

Ginevra Weasley De-Mort tensed in shocked pain as the knife penetrated her, then twitched violently as the blade mechanism snapped open inside her chest cavity, sending a serrated blade into each of her lungs. Hermione held her tight and close, driving the knife harder and deeper, pinning Ginny's arms down as she tried to struggle.

"Don't fight it," Hermione breathed lowly. "It'll all be over soon. I just wanted you to know it was me who killed you. And know this also … I'm going to kill your kids, too, and your cunt brother for all the hurt he caused to me. Harry's already killed Charlie, Percy, Bill and Arthur. The Weasley family is finished. Goodnight, sweet Ginny."

Hermione stepped back, conjured a tight noose around Ginny's neck, fastened it with an unmoveable Sticking Charm … and kicked her body over the balcony railings.

Uproar. It erupted loud beneath them. People screamed and shouted, pointed up at Ginny's hopelessly kicking corpse. Harry closed his eye, breathed in deeply … and felt one of the tunnels in his mind collapse in on itself. He let the burden of that family lift away from him on the exhale. He would think of them no longer.

"Thirty seconds," Harry yelled over the din down below. "I think our secret is out. Time we made our exit stage left!"

Hermione turned to the stranded children and gasped in surprise. They were utterly hysterical. They were still children, somewhere under those black eyes. Hermione took her wand … she couldn't do this … even to them.They were abominations, abhorrations of children, really … but still children nonetheless. They looked like them, acted like them. It wasn't their fault what had happened to them. Hermione's wand shook in her stilted grip.

"Fifteen seconds …" Harry cried. Then he saw the struggle in his wife's eyes and knew what he had to do. She wouldn't be able to live with the guilt if he didn't. "Hermione, love! Come on … we'll take them all with us and deal with the fallout later. But we have to go now!"

Hermione nodded, grabbed the two boys and followed Harry as he Apparated away with his clone secured tightly under his arm.

Six seconds later and one half of Diagon Alley was confined to the history books, as it was hit with an explosion so furious it was a tale to be told in both the London's that felt it.