Hello, dear readers! It's been a fair while, hasn't it? Sorry about that. I've been suffering from a severe case of reallife-itis. Work's been busy. Well, that, and I've been tending to some of my other hobbies, such as snowmobiling, dirt biking, working on my horse... Anyway. Here is chapter nineteen, finally. I've moved things along quite a bit, and a lot of things happen. I hope it was worth the wait, even though it's not that heavy on the action. Then again, this story has never really been about the action, now has it? And I will be the first to admit I'm not too good at writing action.

I wanted to focus a bit on Minerva in this chapter, since she's not been getting much screen time, which is such a sin! I'm pretty sure not all of you will be on board with what I have done with Minerva, but I wanted her to have another side to her. A hidden, darker side which she's kept buried, ever since the first war against Voldemort. It's one of the reasons why I am so late in releasing this chapter. I was a little stuck, at some points in this chapter but I powered through it.

Anyway...

I'm going on a bit of a rant over the next bit, so feel free to skip it, if you want. It has no bearing on the story. Seriously, when it comes to my storytelling, the person I'm going to talk about was ignored completely. As are others who are rude. I cannot stand rudeness.

My story got its first proper flame recently! I was wondering when it would come. I guess I should be happy they refrained from attacking me personally. Which I'm fairly certain they would have, if it didn't mean they could be removed from FFN. Some people may not consider the review a flame, but I cannot stand rudeness and disrespect. Showing other people courtesy is an extremely simple, yet effective way to show respect. Treat others the way you wish to be treated, is how I live my life.

Anyway. The review came from the very well adjusted and absolute delight of a person, going by the name Osborn123. I'll admit to having done a little research, and that person is clearly the one the rest of us should strive to be. And I, much like every other writer (surely they must have), whose story they have deigned to leave a review for, wanted to thank them for delivering unto us such an amazing insight into the human psyche.

It may prove invaluable for for future scientists. Thank you, Osborn123, for such a selfless act. Your name shall be forever etched into the annals of humanity. Such passion! Such nobility! And bravery, especially the fact that they blocked the feature that allows people to send them messages.

Hiding, and not being able to stand your ground, should people wish to engage you after you've dumped all over their work, is a very sexy look... Not that I had any intention of interacting with them directly. It's not worth the effort. Still, it's kind of gratifying to know they are a coward, much like most other wannabe bullies.

I won't try and deny that I was annoyed when I read this review, but I've gotten some fairly rude reviews on earlier chapters, and I fully intended to ignore this as I've done all the others, so far. However, I was in a certain kind of mood on the day, and after reading some of the comments this... individual has dropped on quite a few other stories, where they are being deliberately dismissive, and honestly hurtful when they say stories are utter crap, worthless and a waste of time, made me angry. Especially on behalf of other, younger writers, who may not have thick enough skin yet for crap like this bounce off.

It just so happens, that I am old enough to understand I cannot please everybody. I've gotten enough negative reviews to underscore that! I'm also too lazy to allow such tiny, insignificant people like Osborn123 to affect my writing, when they take out the frustrations of their sad lives out on the work of people who actually went ahead and wrote something.

However, not everyone can let such things slide. They take it personally, and stop writing. It's very sad. But what's even more sad and pathetic, is how that seems to be the intention of bottom feeders like Osborn123. As I said, I did a little research, and mine is not the only story where they have decided to express how... unimpressed, they were with the writer's efforts.

To any writer who happens to read this, I say following. Getting nice reviews is very fun, feels good, and for some, it helps them to keep going. However, if you rely on reviews for inspiration, you leave yourself open to readers like Osborn123. Do not give them such power. Do not allow them to take away your enjoyment of writing. Ignore people who attack your work as if it has personally offended them. They are not of sound mind, and they deserve our pity. Write for yourselves, and your enjoyment, first and foremost. Not for the reviews.

And to those with a penchant for acting like idiots. Why are you angry with writers? Do you think we write stories in a certain way, just to push your buttons? Why attack other people's work with foul words and insults? You may not have attacked the author personally, but many will feel miserable, because you chose to lower yourselves to a very low standard of being. Unless, of course that's who you are, and if that's the case, I'm sorry for you. Seek help. Strive towards being better.

Your critique may well be completely valid, but all foul language does, is make you sound like an idiot who should be summarily dismissed. I can understand people not liking a story, and that's perfectly fine, people have different tastes, and some stories are better than others. Hell, mine could easily be horrible. I'm not arrogant enough to rate my own work. All I know, is that I wasn't trying to write the next War and Peace.

I'll say this, however. If you dislike something, and feel the need to leave a review, by all means, do so. But try to be constructive even if your review is negative. Try and use language that's appropriate for civil society, if you wish to be heard and taken seriously.

"This is crap, an absolute waste of time. And your main character should crawl into a corner and kill themselves!" is not going to help anyone. What I do not understand is the fury...

Excessively foul mouthed rants, filled with all kinds of curses, make you sound like eleven year old children who are getting their jollies where their mothers can't hear them. Also, I'm fairly certain the vast majority of those who leave reviews like this, have not written a whit of anything resembling a story. Show some respect for those who actually do, and put some effort in. No need to spread the misery.

And don't even get me started on those people who get mad, because the story didn't go in the direction they were hoping for. I know we shouldn't feed the trolls, and I just gave that reviewer a doozy, but sometimes, you just have to went.

Rant over. Whew!

XIX

Richard Jameson shook in fear as he cowered before the person who had disarmed them, as if she'd been doing the simplest of levitation charms. She had been staring at the wall next to her for a while, before her eyes landed on them. Merlin... Why had they decided to go after her, of all people. You learned to fear her at the age of eleven, and that fear only grew while you attended Hogwarts...

Minerva McGonagall was pissed. She was tired, hungry, and she had been ambushed by a group of idiots who thought to do her harm. But most of all, she missed Harry. How she envied Narcissa, and Andromeda. They'd at least had some time with him. Time to begin building something, before he was taken on that latest journey. And more than that, they carried his children.

She eyed the group of men, who were cowering before her in an alleyway in Edinburgh. She threw away their snapped wands and approached slowly, her own wand at the ready. Jameson, Caufield, and Robinson...

"To think I would find three of my lions wearing masks such as these," Minerva said, and spat onto on the masks, which she had thrown onto the ground. "Bravery, courage, chivalry. I will find none here, I suspect."

She flicked her wand, and two of the men were transformed into mice, which she put into full body bind. She then turned her eyes onto Jameson, who was quivering in fear. Minerva could only shake her head. How had any of those idiots been sorted into her House?

"Where is Riddle?" she asked, and gave the man her strongest glare.

"I don't know," Jameson said weakly, and seemed to wither like a flower under the frigid gaze of the Headmistress.

Minerva closed her eyes. A month she had been searching for that filthy creature, Riddle. They had leaked the news that Harry had 'died', hoping to draw out the bastard, but he had not surfaced, and nothing much had changed. The war remained the same, but more brutal. Though with the Ministry liberated, the Order was slowly, but surely pushing the Death Eaters back.

She eyed the mouse that was Caufield, and with a deep breath, she trampled it, killing the man. "This will be you, if you do not answer me," she hissed.

"I don't-"

That was as far as the man got, before Minerva stomped the other mouse. She was being ruthless and vicious. Her patience was all but dried up, after all the time that had passed since Riddle's return. At first, when they found a Death Eater, they had tried Legilimency, but their memories were distorted to such a degree, that it was impossible to find what they were looking for. And whenever they tried to extract them in order to try to sift through them via Pensieve, the subject went mad.

Since her induction into the Order, Andromeda had been trying to undo the traps in the minds of some of the captured Death Eaters, but had, as of yet, been unsuccessful. Minerva was done waiting. She had told herself that she was going to rid the world of Riddle, before Harry returned. He deserved peace. Happiness. Love. A future! She would give it to him, and share in the bliss. Impossible goal perhaps, but Minerva was nothing, if not demanding of herself.

Her eyes grew even harder. "Malfoy. Where is he?"

Jameson's eyes widened, and he hesitated, before shaking his head. "I don't know."

Minerva's eyes narrowed. "Liar," she whispered. "Legilimens!"

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Andie looked up when someone entered the kitchen of the Stronghold, and discovered it was Minerva, who was looking deeply troubled.

"What is it, Minerva?" Andie asked.

Minerva sat down at the table and put her face in her hands for a moment, before she answered the younger woman. "I was ambushed by a group of Death Eaters today, in Edinburgh. I handled them easily enough and I learned where we might find Malfoy. His memories were not quite clear, but I managed to pull enough to put it together."

Andie cocked a brow. "That's great news, Min!"

"It is," Minerva agreed. "I ripped the information out of one of the Death Eaters. I was not gentle. His mind was completely broken, once I was done, so I ended his life. I had already killed the other two, trying to make him talk."

Andie let out a deep sigh. "Minerva, we're at war. Things get ugly. You know this."

Minerva nodded, reached for a banana, and peeled it slowly. "And it's going to get uglier still, if we do not find Riddle. We've been pushing back hard over the past few weeks, Andromeda. They must be getting desperate and you know what desperate people can do," Minerva finished and took a bite of the banana.

Andie was silent for a moment, then nodded. "I do, and you're right."

"Where is Narcissa?" Minerva asked, taking another bite.

"She and Hermione are busy at the Ministry, as always," Andie said, and rolled her eyes. "If they had their say, the pair of them would sleep over there."

"That's good. I can go about my business in peace, then," Minerva said as she finished the banana and put the peel into the trash.

"And what business is that?" Andie asked and blocked Minerva from leaving the kitchen.

Minerva arched an eyebrow. "Ye're fixin' to interrogate me, Andie? Minerva asked in her thick Scottish brogue. She blew out a breath. "I'm going to find the two Malfoy shits, and drag them here. Then, I'll see if I can't get something out of Malfoy Sr."

Andie arched a brow, at that. "And why should we suspect a different outcome, this time? We've destroyed all the minds we've tried to invade, so far."

"We've never tried with Malfoy Sr. That bastard is an important piece of Riddle's effort. I'm willing to wager he's not tampered too much with that man's brain. He has to leave some untouched, if only to make certain their minds work properly," Minerva said and stepped forward, which prompted Andromeda to step aside.

"And my nephew?" Andie asked.

Minerva rubbed her temple. "Narcissa may have told us, and herself, that this boy is no son of hers, but that's simply not true. They need to have a conversation."

"I suppose they do," Andie agreed, and followed her friend out of the kitchen. "You're going alone?"

"Aye. I work best alone, Andromeda."

"Is that so?"

"Aye," Minerva said, and marched over to her room, Andromeda following closely behind.

The two women entered the room. Once inside, Minerva went to her closet, and set about dressing herself into a variant of the armour Narcissa had gotten for her sisters, as well as Fleur and Tonks. It was exactly the same, except it wasn't cut quite as low in the chest.

Andie watched in silence as the older woman got dressed, a feeling of unease descending upon her. Minerva's eyes were completely cold, her movements machine like. What was going on? When the Headmistress was completely dressed, she opened a small chest in her dresser, extracted a small harness, which she strapped to her forearm.

And into the harness, she sheathed a slim, wickedly sharp dagger. Her hand reached into the trunk again and out came a... veil of some kind, one end of which she fastened on the inside of her hood. She draped it across her face and fastened into the other side of the hood, covering her face completely, leaving only the eyes uncovered.

Minerva noted the quizzical look on Andie's face, and unhooked the veil, allowing it to hang free. "Harry's not the only person on this side of the war who knows blades. They're very useful when you cannot use your magic."

She took a deep breath. "It's time I reprised my role in the fight against the darkness. I have waited much too long to make this decision."

Andie was at a loss. Her friend had fought in the first war against Riddle, but this was something else. "Meaning what, Minerva? What role?"

"Infiltration, information gathering, the occasional assassination," Minerva replied, without emotion. "A spy, I suppose you could call me. Albus never knew. It was something Alastor and I decided. As you know, an Animagus tends to acquire some of their animal's qualities, and as you may imagine, my Animagus form is ideal for this kind of work. Alas, it wasn't quite as effective as we had hoped it would be."

"But everyone knows what you look like, Minerva! You practically show everyone, in their first year!" Andie hissed. "You were also caught the last time you tried something like this."

Minerva nodded. "People do know what my feline form looks like, true. However, I was only caught last time because I was sloppy. Rusty. It will not happen again."

Minerva strode towards the exit, her strides long and purposeful. The door opened of its own accord, no doubt helped by the Keystone Minerva still wore around her neck. She stepped out and as the door closed, she turned to look at Andromeda, giving her a nod, before Apparating away.

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Minnie the Cat could be found sitting in a tree overlooking an old, abandoned farm. It was composed of a large house, and several ramshackle outhouses. She was somewhere in Wales, if she were to guess. Several hours had gone by since she had appeared on the outskirts of the property. She had immediately transformed into her cat persona, and found herself a decent vantage point from where she could observe the derelict farm.

The place wasn't quite bursting with activity, but there were a few people that came and went, but the comings and goings stopped when it became dark. This den was but one of many, she assumed. Minerva decided that further exploration of the farm was in order before she made her move.

She silently dropped from the tree and began circling the farm, making certain to stay well clear. She moved with extreme care and discovered quickly that the Death Eaters were not interested in being caught out, like they had been last time, when Harry had so easily infiltrated Malfoy Manor.

There were several wizards and witches stationed around the outer edges of the clearing the farm was in. They were under disillusionment, and moved surprisingly well, Minerva thought. Having completed her circuit of the perimeter, she had counted no fewer than twelve Death Eater guards, and she was unsure how many were inside.

Finding a good spot, she advanced toward the house, but an uneasy feeling came over her and she retreated. She had felt a gentle vibration on her chest, and it startled her. That had never happened before. Then Minerva realized she was feeling the Keystone. Could it be that it detected wards?

She approached again at a different point. This time, the vibrations were definitely more violent and she quickly retreated once more. After she had gone around again, she had learned there was no way to approach the house without being detected. And all of the Death Eaters were careful not to wander out of the reaches of the wards. Had she not been in her cat form, she would have clicked her tongue in annoyance. She needed help. Most of the other Order members were busy with other assignments. Then an idea formed in her head. Yes, those boys surely could help.

000000

Minerva appeared in a small, shadowy section of Diagon Alley and turned into Minnie the Cat again. She swiftly made her way towards the twin's joke shop, but stopped for a moment, simply looking at it, wondering how it was still standing, given their efforts against Riddle. How in Merlin's name... No, there was no time for that. She entered the building via an open window. There was a noise coming from the back room and she recognized the voices of Fred and George, as well as those of Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

"Hello! Anyone home?" Minerva called, to announce her presence.

Fred came to the front, and smiled when he saw who had graced their store with her presence. "Professor McGonagall! Fancy seeing you here."

George and the two girls came in and sent Minerva their brightest smiles, as well

"I need a favour," Minerva began, and began pacing in front of the foursome.

"A favour?" George asked. "Whatever do you need from us mere mortals, Professor McGonagall?" he asked in a teasing voice.

"Behave," Alicia said, and slapped George on the arm. "Professor?"

Minerva sent her former student a smile, before growing serious. "I've found Malfoy."

The mood turned sober at once, and a grim look settled over the young people in the room.

"And where is that spineless tosser?" Fred asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Minerva stopped and gave the four a long look before she answered. She knew she would not be able to hide it from them. "They're hiding in an abandoned farm in Wales. It's protected by a series of wards and they have quite a few guards patrolling the perimeter. I need a distraction. Something loud and obnoxious. And whatever it is, must last long enough for me to get in, and extract Malfoy."

The eyes of Fred and George lit up, and the wicked smiles that spread across their faces had Minerva almost shivering. No wonder Argus' less than pleasant disposition had become even less so, during the time the Weasley twins attended Hogwarts. The poor man!

"We have exactly what you need, Professor!" George said and disappeared into the back, his brother fast on his heels.

While they were gone, Alicia and Angelina offered their former teacher a seat in the break room, and Minerva accepted a cup of tea. The two girls sat on the other side of the table.

"Are you alright, Minerva?" Alicia asked finally. "You've been doing an awful lot by yourself, ever since Harry and the others... disappeared."

Minerva took a sip of the excellent tea, and nodded slowly. "I'm fine, thank you, Miss. Spinnet. This isn't my first war. I know how to take care of myself. I promised myself I would rid the world of that pest Riddle, before Harry came back and that is what I shall do."

Angelina and Alicia shared a glance. However, before they could continue the conversation, their boyfriends returned with a few items, which had obviously been shrunk to pocket size. The young men put the items onto the table.

"Noises, explosions, tremors. Gases that cause hallucinations..." George said and swept his hand over the items with a flourish, before putting them into a little bag. "Here's a toffee to make sure the gasses don't hurt you, professor," He said, and handed Minerva a suspicious, green looking candy.

Minerva accepted the candy, popped it into her mouth, and took a sip of the tea before rising to her feet. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley." she said, reaching for the bag, but Fred put his hand on her own.

"Our help isn't free, Minerva," he said with a firm expression.

Minerva raised a brow. "Oh?"

George frowned at her. "Harry would have our heads, if he knew we allowed you to go alone to such a dangerous place. If you wish to use our products, then you'll have to take us brothers with you."

"And us!" Angelina piped in. She and Alicia moved over to stand with their boyfriends.

Minerva closed her eyes, and sighed. She should have known it would come to this. They were good people and if she was completely honest, their involvement did have its merits. While the twins, much like all Weasleys, were not particularly powerful mages, they were extremely gifted when it came to the application of magic. And they were completely unpredictable.

There was no doubt in her mind they would be of great help. Her former Chasers weren't too bad, either. They had consistently ranked close to the top of their year at Hogwarts, giving the Ravenclaws a run for their galleons.

"Alright, you four. You can come. However," Minerva said in a stern voice. "You will do anything I tell you, is that clear?"

The four nodded their accord. Fred grabbed the items on the table, and once Minerva had shown them the location, they Apparated with a pop.

Minerva had them Apparate a safe distance from the farm, and proceeded with giving them instructions.

"I want you in pairs. Fred, Angelina, I want you in the to west. George, Alicia, the east. I'll approach from the north. That cliff should take care of the south for us. Boys, I'd like you to place your things where you'll believe they'll have the most impact. Make as much noise as you can, and remain out of sight.

She turned to Alicia and Angelina. "Can you girls cast a charm to prevent Apparition?"

The young women nodded. "We can," Angelina said. "Though we won't be able to hold it for long."

"Good," Minerva said with a firm nod. "Do so, but stay hidden. All of you! I will not take long. In and out."

"Ma'am!" Fred and George exclaimed softly, while their girlfriends rolled their eyes.

Minerva wasn't done, however. "Now, listen here. If things begin to turn for the worse, leave immediately. Do you understand? No matter what happens, you will leave! Am I clear?"

Once the group had nodded their accord, Minerva let them go and focused on her own task. She was going to slip into the house, once her companions began their work. She took a deep breath, morphed and stalked towards the house, silent as the night.

Her sensitive nose picked up the scent of an enemy close by, outside of the wards this time. The distinct smell of ammonia told the professor what the person had been doing. She closed her eyes and listened for the person's steps. A man. Heavyset. She took note of where he touched the trees, and calculated his height. When he was within striking distance, Minerva jumped him, morphed back into a human, and stuck her dagger into his throat in one smooth move.

Managing, with some difficulty, to ease the man onto the ground, Minerva wiped her knife on his cloak, before morphing back into a cat, and continued on her way. As good as she was with her knife, she greatly preferred her trusty fir wood, but she wasn't willing to take any risks until she the twins had begun their part.

She had only gone a few feet further, when a large tremor shook the ground. It was coming from both the east and west. The Keystone began vibrating violently as the wards came crashing down. Good lads! She heard several shouts from close by, and watched as the enemy mages rushed to go and meet this new threat, and the twins met them head on.

Quite annoyed with the two boys for not doing as she had told them, Minerva morphed into her human form and with a practised move, had her wand in her hand in the blink of an eye. She strode confidently out of the woods, her trained eyes taking in the area around the house as she went.

A man came rushing her from the right, a pink stream of light coming her way. Minerva cast a quick Protego and retaliated with a low powered wind charm, to remove the mask. She threw a Bombarda, aimed at the man's head, which exploded. Rawlins. He'd always been an idiot.

A couple of women came running out of the house and saw Minerva dispatch their ally with no effort. They hesitated, before attempting to run away. Minerva resisted the urge to merely stun them, and ended their lives with a well aimed Diffendo. While it was true that not all who fought for Riddle had joined willingly, there was no way to discern who they were on the battlefield.

She was close to the house now, and was about to enter when she heard a maniacal scream from the other side of the house. She quickly ran over there, dodging a couple of curses from a witch and a wizard who were summarily taken care of. She stared at the display in front of her.

The forest to both the east and west were lighting up as the night sky on new years eve, but that wasn't what Minerva was looking at. She was staring at Draco Malfoy, who had fallen onto his behind, and was desperately scrambling away from something only he could see, his wand all but forgotten.

There was a cloud of gas in the air. The twins clearly weren't messing about. She'd underestimated them... She was such a fool. After all, their store was still intact, after all this time. They truly weren't children any longer.

"Get away!" Draco screamed. "Don't come any closer! Aaaah!" He dropped his wand onto the ground, before crossing his hands in front of his face.

Whatever he was seeing, must have been terrifying. Minerva shook her head and stunned the boy, then rolled out of the way as her cat like instincts took over. A sickly green beam sailed over her body and struck an unlucky Death Eater, who was stuck in his own nightmare. The man fell dead to the ground.

"Well, well, professor McGonagall," came the haughty voice of Lucius Malfoy. "Out for a little exercise?" he continued in a mocking tone.

Minerva got to her feet, her eyes intent on her target. "Malfoy. Not quite what you're used to, is it?" she asked and indicated the nearly derelict house with her head.

Lucius smiled lazily. "We all must make sacrifices for the cause," he drawled, before sending a series of attacks her way, all of which the Headmistress dealt with fairly easily. "I see you've not lost your touch, little pussy."

Minerva glared at her enemy. "Nay, Malfoy, I have not. There's always more scum to take care of!" she shouted and the battle was joined.

The pair of them engaged in a fierce battle for a moment, each one attacking, and defending brilliantly. Minerva was glad she had always had a healthy respect for Malfoy's prowess, because he was truly an excellent duellist. How had Harry survived against both him, and Bellatrix? And managed to lead all his friends out relatively unharmed?

She caught Malfoy in the shoulder with a fairly strong piercing charm, but received a bludgeoning hex to her back for her trouble. Thing were looking like they might end up in a stalemate, until she noticed a pair of men behind her, who had their wands at the ready.

Zabini and Nott. She was surrounded, and she could not see an easy way out. It would have been tempting to dismiss both Nott and Zabini, young as they were, but both were a fair hand in a fight. The three men spread out in a way that minimized the risk of friendly spellfire.

"Filthy cowards!" she hissed. She felt her Keystone tremble a bit, as she assumed the anti Apparition spell had failed. She dearly hoped the girls were alright.

Malfoy smiled his most condescending smile. "Minerva! We are Slytherins! Surely you didn't think we would play fair? Now, I'm in the mind for a repeat of our last meeting," he said with a leer.

"Mind your spells, boys!" he told his companions. "I want this little kitty alive. She doesn't have to be unharmed, however."

Zabini sent a body bind her way, while Nott uttered an incantation for a slim chain to grow from the tip of his wand. If it managed to wrap itself around a part of the victims body, the wielder could send an extremely strong electrical current into their victim.

Minerva barely managed to dodge a Crucio from Malfoy, and a slashing curse cast by Zabini grazed her left arm. She summoned a small rock to deflect Nott's chain, and then sent the debris flying towards the young man, after having transfigured it into a hail of nails.

There was a small break in the fighting as the combatants circled each other, trying to catch their breath. Magical duels were tiring, particularly when the combatants were evenly matched. There was a reason why most were one on one, and why a single wizard was more often than not, handily beaten by two or more.

There were exceptions to the rule, of course. Extremely powerful individuals such as Harry, Albus and Riddle could fight for hours and barely feel it. Minerva almost shuddered; she really wanted to know just how powerful Harry was!

Minerva knew she was headed for trouble, and that she might not get any help from her friends, who were busy fighting their own battles. Being surrounded in a magical duel against fair opponents was a death sentence, but she had one thing she could do. She had found an interesting spell in the library at Harry's Stronghold, but it was taxing and she didn't know how well it would work, since she had never used it in a practical setting...

"Minerva," Malfoy began in that annoying drawl of his. "Surrender, and I give you my word you will not be hurt. Too much..." Nott and Zabini laughed, and Minerva grit her teeth.

That was it! She was going to finish this. Minerva McGonagall did not intend to die that day. She took a deep breath, before she dropped onto one knee, and thrust her wand into the ground.

"Circus Gladius!"

Seven swords shot out of the ground, and floated around the headmistress, points facing downwards. Minerva got to her feet, staggering a little. She eyed the enemy, and was glad to see them backing away a bit.

She needed to be quick. She was fading, and she did not want Malfoy getting away. She moved her wand, and the swords were raised in a horizontal position. She saw Malfoy grit his teeth.

"Let's get her, boys! That spell must be taxing her. Attack!"

That was a mistake. As soon as the boys raised their wands to attack, two swords shot outwards, faster than any of them could react. Zabini caught one in the chest, while Nott was impaled in the abdomen. With those two out of the fight, Minerva could focus on her target, who was frantically fending off the rest of the swords.

Minerva sent a flurry of spells at Malfoy, eventually striking home with a full body bind. She let out a sigh and the swords disappeared. She made her way over to Malfoy and stunned him. She turned around, just in time to find the twins and the girls come running. With a groan, she fell down on one knee. This had been more difficult than she had thought. She became aware of her companions approaching.

"Professor McGonagall!" Alicia called. "Are you alright?" she asked, and helped Minerva stand.

Minerva wiped her brow with her sleeve. "Aye," she responded in a tired voice. "How did it go with you?"

"They ran once they realized Malfoy was out," Fred replied, and wiped a bloody nose.

Minerva nodded. "Grab the younger Malfoy, Fred. George, take this one. I do believe we should bring them to Grimmauld Place."

"Right," George said, grabbed Malfoy Sr and Apparated away, and soon his brother followed.

"Go home, girls," Minerva said, and closed her eyes as a lance of pain shot through her arm. "Your boyfriends will be along shortly."

"What about Theo?" Alicia asked and nodded to their former schoolmate, who was writhing on the ground, clearly in pain.

"I'll take care of him, Miss Spinnet," the Headmistress replied sharply. "Now, do as I said and go home."

The two girls nodded and disappeared with a couple of cracks. Alone, Minerva approached the young man lying on the ground and stared coldly down at him. His eyes were open, though he was fading fast.

"H-help me..." he moaned at his former teacher. "I don't want to die here..."

Minerva maintained her cold stare, before readying her wand. "I know of some of the things you've done, in the name of your master, Theodore Nott. Raping, killing, torturing," Minerva half whispered, her voice colder than an arctic storm. "You deserve so much worse than this..."

She flicked her wand, and Nott went slack as he lost consciousness. At least he'd be spared the pain as he bled to death. It was a mercy he did not deserve. Hearing a series of 'pops', Minerva knew it was time she made herself disappear...

000000

Ron stared after Hermione and Narcissa as they strolled down the corridor which led to the offices of the Wizengamot members, his eyes stormy. She had barely acknowledged him as she went by, her focus on her new... friend.

Still. As angry as he was over how Hermione had ended things between them, he did feel a sense of pride when he thought about his ex. Hermione Granger. His friend, a Wizengamot member! And the first Muggleborn, no less. Ron knew she would do great things, and he also knew Harry had done both Hermione and Britain a grand service, naming their friend as his proxy.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to find his brother Bill looking at him with a small smile. "She's something, isn't she?" he said and nodded towards the two women, who were still speaking excitedly with one another.

"Sure," Ron replied curtly.

Bill sighed and shook his head. "Alright, Ron, let's go to dad's office. We need to talk."

"Bill," Ron began, but his brother wasn't having it.

"Now!"

A short while later, the two brothers were each sipping on a cup of fresh tea. Ron let his eyes roam over his father's small office, and all the knick knacks and junk that lined every empty space in there.

"You need to grow up, Ron," Bill finally said and leaned back in his chair. "You can't go on like this, or you'll be left behind by everyone you know."

Ron scowled. "I'm fine, Bill."

Bill nodded. "I suppose you were. Then Harry returned and you began acting like a spoiled brat. What's that all about?"

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno..."

Bill huffed. "Don't try that with me, Ron. What is it about Harry that makes you act like a child? Mind you, we all heard that fight between you and Hermione, when she broke up with you. How much of what she said was true?"

Ron glared at his brother. Who the hell did Bill think he was? Then he hung his head in defeat. Bill was right. He'd been acting up, ever since Harry returned, and the way he had behaved in that meeting in McGonagall's office had been so embarrassing.

"Most of it..." Ron mumbled.

Bill leaned in. "What was that?" he asked and discreetly cast a silencing charm on the door.

"Fine!" Ron shouted and shot out of his seat. "I hate always coming second best! You're a curse breaker, Charlie has the dragon thing, Percy's the interim Minister, the twins have the shop, and Ginny's probably going to go for professional Seeker once this fucking war is over. And me? I've got nothing!"

Bill tried to get a word in, but Ron was on a roll.

"I hate being poor! I hate having to wear hand-me-downs, buying used schoolbooks. And I..."

Ron ran a hand through his hair and let himself fall into the chair, his eyes desperate.

"What, Ron?" Bill urged him on.

"I can't stand how people don't see me as anything other than Harry Potter's friend," Ron said, the self loathing in his voice apparent.

Bill nodded. "And when he was gone, you could finally make your name."

Ron nodded. "I'm an awful person, aren't I?" he asked miserably.

Bill frowned. "No, you're not, just flawed, like everyone. But there's more, isn't there?" the eldest of the Weasley siblings asked gently. "About Hermione."

Again, Ron nodded, his eyed tired. He took a sip of his tea. "I knew she and Harry were much more compatible than me and her," Ron said pathetically. "And I knew that if it came down to it, she would always choose him over me."

Bill poured his brother some more tea. "You kind of dug your own grave there, Ron. You know how close they were. And she's always stuck by him, no matter what. Something you didn't always do. And let's face it. You have practically nothing in common, other than Harry."

Ron made a face. "I know. If I could go back, I'd do it all differently. In a heartbeat."

The two brothers were silent for a while.

"Feel better?" Bill asked.

"Yeah," Ron admitted. "I need to talk to Hermione. Set things right."

Bill smiled at his brother. "That's a good start. She'll probably give you the cold shoulder for a while, but she's a softy. She'll forgive you soon enough. Besides, she's much too smart to waste energy holding on to grudges."

"Why did you and Fleur break up?" Ron asked suddenly.

Bill grimaced. He knew Ginny had pieced it together, but Ron had always been too preoccupied with himself, to notice much of others. Bill didn't really want to talk about himself, but supposed he owed Ron a bit, for opening up.

"I couldn't handle the Allure, Ron," Bill told his brother wearily.

Ron frowned. "What? I thought you were immune..."

"I was," Bill confirmed. "But you see, the Veela grow stronger as they age. Some more than others, and even if she didn't tell me, I'm positive Fleur will be among the strongest of her race. It would never have worked out for us, and I'd have to be a right rotten git, to demand that she constantly rein in her Allure. Even at home."

Ron nodded slowly in understanding. "Right. It's not a coincidence you broke up when Harry returned, is it?"

Bill shrugged. "We would always have ended things soon, I know that. To answer your question, no, I do not think it was chance. All Veela have a presence inside of them, Ron."

"A presence?" Ron asked, looking a bit lost.

"Yes," Bill continued. "A wild, untamed being that makes up their baser desires. You know, love, hate, lust, anger, that sort of thing... It's from them the Veela get their powers. I've never 'met' Fleur's other half, but I can assume Harry appealed to her. After all, he's not exactly normal. Not any more."

Ron gave his brother a wince. "I know I acted like a git before, at the meeting, but I've been thinking about it... Can you imagine drinking something like that potion, not knowing what it might do? And it was a thousand years old!"

Bill was extremely glad to learn his brother had gotten over that stupid thing. "Desperation drives people to do some pretty foolish things, Ron. And I doubt we could have found a more desperate person than Harry."

Ron sighed. "You're right. I... If Harry comes back I'll do whatever I can to make things right."

The two brothers stood up, and Bill clasped his brother's shoulder. "I know. And Harry's a forgiving person. You know that."

Ron's ears went scarlet. "Merlin knows I've been forgiven more often than I deserve. By both Harry and Hermione," he mumbled as he left their father's office. Bill watched Ron go, and was happy he hadn't mentioned who it was that had urged him to confront his youngest brother. After all, Narcissa had been the one to break up Ron and Hermione...

000000

In a small fire, Artemis appeared in a courtyard of a villa. She allowed her eyes to roam over her surroundings, and noted the place was very well kept. Neat. She grabbed the reins of both Harry's horse and her own, and brought them to a nearby hitching post, before calling out.

"Hello! Anyone here?"

A servant came running along after a moment. The young woman performed a little curtsy. "Good afternoon, milady. Welcome to Potter villa. Might I ask your business?"

Then, the girl's eyes found the pitch black stallion, and widened. "Master Harry's horse!"

Artemis nodded. "Yes. Are his parents at home?"

"Yes! Follow me, please."

The young woman quickly led the Goddess of the Hunt through the house, and into the back. They emerged in a beautiful garden, and Artemis immediately focused on a group of four people, who were gathered around a stone table, reviewing some kind of map.

"So this is where their base is," A tall woman with red hair and striking emerald eyes stated, and pointed to a spot on the map.

"Yes," a man with a longish, wavy hair replied. "According to my source."

Before they got any further, another redhead noticed Artemis and the girl approach.

"Pardon me, Lily, James," the girl began. "I have someone here to speak with you," she continued, before bowing and leaving.

A tall man, who bore more than a passing resemblance to Harry, looked Artemis over with a quizzical expression. "Yes? Can we help you?"

"Are you the parents of Harry Potter?" Artemis asked.

Immediately, the green eyed woman, Lily, made her way over to her, staring at her with a blazing intensity. "Yes, I am his mother. Has something happened?"

Artemis took a deep breath and was about to answer, when three women came rushing into the garden via a side path. They were all panting and sweating from the heat, but the goddess understood they had all been exercising. A fairly short woman with spiky pink hair was holding a rapier, while another, silver haired beauty was carrying an exquisite bow, and lastly an older, raven haired woman was clutching a staff.

"Lily?" the oldest newcomer said in concern.

"Well," Lily's husband said and joined his wife, bringing with him the other pair.

"I've come to tell you that Harry has reached Starling Cliffs, and that he's safe and sound."

At Artemis' words, there was an almost immediate relief of the palpable tension that had permeated the area.

Still, the man with the longish hair raised a brow. "He's a little quick, isn't he?"

"He is," Lily said and turned to Artemis. "Who are you, and what do you know?"

"My name's Artemis, and Harry helped me deal with a dangerous problem brewing in the Highlands. It's the reason why I am here with his horse. We were... separated."

"A problem?" the short pink haired woman said. Then a look of resigned annoyance found its way onto her pretty face. "He found the dragon, didn't he?"

While Harry's parents and their friends were somewhat distressed at the news, the other two were only mildly surprised. Annoyed. Ah, of course. These three were Harry's companions.

"Indeed, we did. It had attacked an orc mining settlement, completely destroying it. We found its lair and attacked it. It escaped, and the last I saw of Harry, he was chasing after it, and had just jumped onto its back as it flew towards the north west."

Artemis watched the faces of those gathered turn grim and saw the the staff begin to glow dangerously.

"I suggest you keep going," the staff wielder said, her voice surprisingly level, but the violet eyes promised hurt of a special kind. This woman was not one to trifle with, clearly.

Artemis held up her hands. "Harry managed to slay the dragon and arrive safely. The reason he was so quick, is because Irontails are fast, to say the least."

Sirius stared at the newcomer, then let out a chuckle, which became a roar of laughter. "Bloody hell, Harry... You don't do things by half, do you?" He made his way over to Artemis and offered her his hand. She looked at it, before accepting the handshake. She wasn't overly fond of men.

"My name's Sirius Black," he said, and went about introducing the others. When he was done, Artemis simply nodded.

"It's good to meet you all. My full name is Artemis, daughter of Zeus."

Silence. Then:

"Haaa..." Nym said, her face etched in wonder. "A goddess? Wait. You were with Harry, and he was being his usual, stupidly heroic self. You brought back his horse..." Nym looked her over. "You're bloody fit... You're not in love with Harry, are ya?"

Sirius, who had been taking a drink from his mug, spat out a goodly amount, when he heard his cousin ask that. Not a good question to ask a goddess who, by all reports, hated men with a burning passion.

"Nymmie..." Sirius began with a groan.

The question took Artemis by surprise, but she held up a hand to stop Sirius. She, in love with a man? Of all the things... "No, can't say that I am. I prefer women, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, well," Nym said and shrugged her shoulders. "She's not the Owl, then."

Fleur gave her lover a bemused smile, while Bellatrix palmed her face. Her niece was an idiot.

Artemis was pondering over Nymphadora's words. An owl? The Owl... One Harry would fall for, presumably. Ah, yes, of course!

"No, I am not the Owl, as you say, Tonks," Artemis said. "But I think I know who she is," she went on, with a mischievous grin.

Now, that admission had all three women staring intently at her. Tonks' hair cycled excitedly through every colour known to mortal kind, while both Bellatrix and Fleur took a step closer.

"And who might she be?" Bellatrix asked.

"Oui," Fleur gave her accord. "I would very much like to know."

"Not my place to tell," Artemis said and made her way to the table, and sat down. "There's something you need to know regarding that dragon Harry slew," she said once all the others had joined her at the table.

"What is it?" James asked, his fingers interlaced with his wife's on top of the table. They were both very nervous, and it showed.

"When Harry touched a melted rock at the destroyed orc encampment, he had a vision, which told us exactly where to find it. Now that he has killed the beast, there should be one less of those Horcruxes for you to find."

"The dragon was possessed by a Horcrux?" Fleur asked in revulsion.

"Yes, it was. Now, it's a matter of finding the other two," Artemis said. "I plan on asking Hermes to keep an eye out."

"Could you not simply find the Horcruxes, and destroy them?" Amelia said, surprising everyone, as she'd been silent thus far.

Artemis shook her head. "No, I cannot. Aside from being very limited in what I can do in this physical form, us gods are forbidden to intervene too far in the lives of mortals. In fact, it's only when some of the Great Beasts are involved, that we can step in. They were released onto the world during a war in the heavens, aeons ago."

"And this... Irontail was one such beast?" Bellatrix asked, her voice still holding a measure of hostility.

"Yes," Artemis confirmed.

"And how about that monstrosity that followed the Dreadnought around? Was that one of them, as well?" Bella asked again.

Artemis frowned. "Yes, that abomination is one. Wait, did you say 'followed'? It's dead?"

"Oui," Fleur said with a smile. "Harry killed it, so that it wouldn't sink the Phoenix, and kill the hundred souls aboard."

"I... I cannot believe it," Artemis said, her voice faint.

"Ya better!" Nym said with a grin. "Harry doesn't mess about!"

"You owe him," Bellatrix growled, her eyes narrowing. "He's been cleaning up your messes since he came here."

"I cannot," Artemis said in a regretful voice. "I agree, that we gods owe Harry. Even so, we are not allowed to step in. We will not go against the Allfathers. However, I do think there is something I might be able to do. There is a Gate here, in the Otherworld. If Harry finds his way to where it is, I may be able to persuade Charon to ferry you lot across. He owes me a favour."

Artemis knew she was bending the rules as far as she could, but she had not explicitly told them where to find the Gate. She knew everyone here was bright enough to understand what she was talking about.

Figuring she'd taken up more than enough of their time, Artemis rose from her chair. And she had finished the task her cousin Freyja had given her. "I must take my leave now. I bid you to live well, and good luck."

And with that, she disappeared.

Sirius let out a long breath. "Well, that was a lot to take in, all at once."

"Yeah, you can say that again, Padfoot," James said with a sigh. "How is it, that Harry's always finding himself in these situations?"

Bellatrix sighed. "Fate. By this time, it must be fate. She hates him, I think."

"Does anyone here know the way down to the Underworld?" Fleur asked.

"No," James said, and rose from his chair. "But those hacks at the College might. All some of them do, is research old stories written about, about the gods or hunt down rumours. I'm certain we can find someone who knows something."

"I noticed you weren't surprised. Before, when Artemis revealed who she was," Bellatrix remarked. "I take it you knew the gods roamed the earth?"

Lily nodded. "There were rumours. Stories. They've always done so, even back home. Óðinn, Zeus, Þór. Loki. Athena. All of them have been known to spend time among mortals."

"But you're not mortal, are you?" Nym asked, staring Lily in the eyes. "Harry remarked that you and James look exactly like you did, when you died. He has a picture of you two holding him, and you haven't changed."

James reached for his cup of wine. "We haven't, no. We are dead, Tonks. Dead people do not age."

"I do!" Sirius exclaimed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Found a grey hair yesterday!" he said and laughed. "Been plucking them from my beard, as well."

"You came here via the death gate," Fleur mused. "I suppose there's a difference..."

"Yes, that's what we believe," Amelia told Fleur. "There are people here that are at least a thousand years old. The Founders, Arthur Pendragon, Merlin. Morgana." That last name was said with a bitterness.

"Oh, she's a right twat, that one," Lily said and sent Amelia a look full of understanding.

"Anyway, now that we know Harry's safe..." James went on, and turned his attention to the map on the table. "How reliable is that source of yours, Sirius? If we're going to be sneaking into Cold Rocks, I'd really prefer knowing exactly what we're getting into."

"As far as I know, he's good at his job, that elf. Used to be a Shadow, actually. Knows his way around places," Sirius told his friend.

"Perhaps we should go to the Keep. Seek an audience with the Ambassador, to confirm. We do have quite a few enemies," Lily wondered. "And I would really like to speak to the old man." Lily growled that last bit, and slammed her flagon down.

"You're right, Lils," James said and finished his drink. "We must get going to Cold Rocks as soon as we finish with the summit. Captain Aðalsteinn will go home before the winter sets in, and the seas become too rough. We must get there, as well."

000000

"Now, that is a long story."

Harry was looking at the Goddess, while holding Hedwig to him. She was not saying anything, simply enjoying being held in Harry's embrace.

"It's not that long of a story, Freyja. I'm not yet twenty years old."

The blonde woman leaned her head back and laughed. "True, but the story doesn't start with you, my sweet boy."

Sweet boy? "Where does it start, then?" Harry asked.

Freyja turned serious, once more. "I will tell you anything you wish to know, Harry. But not here." She approached the couple and reached out to them. "Take my hand. I shall take you to a place of peace, where you can relax and rest a moment, my Champion. I'm afraid I cannot afford you too long, however. We are pressed for time."

Harry took Freyja's hand, while Hedwig disentangled herself from his embrace and made her way over to the two cats, who rose to meet her and purred contentedly as she put a hand on their heads.

Ready when you are, mother.

Harry heard the voice in his head, but did not see Hedwig's lips move. Why wasn't she speaking normally? Before Harry got any further in his thoughts, he felt himself grow light, almost as if he was taken apart. He closed his eyes to bask in the euphoric feeling.

The sensation only lasted for a moment. When Harry opened his eyes, he found himself in a large meadow, bathed in sunlight. The birds were chirping, and he heard a waterfall, somewhere to his left.

"Welcome to the field of Fólkvangur, Harry," Freyja said and smiled gently at him. "It is my little piece of the Otherworld. Over there, you can see my hall, Sessrúmnir."

Harry turned his eye towards where the goddess pointed. On the top of a hill, a little ways to the east was a large castle, surrounded by a wall. It wasn't Valhöll, but Harry had seen several renditions of that famous hall, and this one wasn't too dissimilar to what he'd seen.

It was several floors tall, with each floor slightly smaller than the one beneath it. And at the top, a golden roof, made from the hull of a large Longship. The railing was adorned with shields, each carrying a symbol of some kind.

Hedwig walked up to him and smiled.

It's where I grew up, Harry. Where I learned to fight. How to choose who came here, and who were sent to Valhöll.

Freyja snorted. "It wasn't that hard, daughter. Only the best come here, the rest can go get drunk in that other place." There was a measure of disdain in Freyja's voice.

She noticed Harry looking at her with a question on his face, and she turned to him. "I've strictly forbidden excessive consumption of mead in my realm, Harry. When my warriors will be called upon, and they will, they must be ready. Come. Let us go."

"I thought you took half of all slain warriors," Harry remarked as they threesome began their trek towards Freyja's Hall.

"I did, in the beginning. To bolster my ranks, you see. Fairly soon, however, I decided quality over quantity was the better plan. So, I began choosing only the most worthy from all realms, universes, dimensions where I have any power."

"Only the best," Harry mused. "People like my parents. Sirius, Amelia?"

"Yes. They do not know, but all those people are mine. They have performed their duties admirably, and have helped immensely. We must be ready!" Freyja's voice was filled with determination.

Hedwig said nothing, but Harry could feel her grow tense, as she strolled on beside him.

"Ready for what, Freyja?" Harry asked, but he knew the answer, before she even gave it.

"Ragnarök, Harry. It is coming. I can feel it. And so can every being, in every world, though they do not know what this nagging feeling in the back of their heads means. Your earth is not the only one that's being plunged into chaos."

Suddenly, Freyja stopped and looked at Harry. "Before we go any further, I think it might be prudent for you to have your wings recede back into your body, Harry."

Unconsciously, Harry flexed his raven coloured wings. "I don't know how."

Freyja smiled. "Of course not. Daughter, please show him what to do."

Hedwig stepped in front of Harry and looked him in the eyes. She spread her wings, which were quite a bit larger than Harry's own. Then, the tips of her wings slowly began moving towards her back, growing smaller as they did. Until they had disappeared entirely.

You weren't born with your wings, but they should work in the same manner as mine do. Close your eyes. Feel your wings.

Harry closed his eyes, and focused inward. Breathe. In and out. In... out. Then he felt them. A foreign sensation, one he hadn't felt before. He grasped the feeling and envisioned his wings doing what Hedwig's had, earlier. Harry felt his wings warp, then begin to grow smaller and enter his body.

Well done! Hedwig enthused.

"Indeed," Freyja agreed. "You really know your body well, Harry. Now, onwards, so that we may speak."

The group was soon upon the gate that would lead them to the Hall. Harry could hear the clash of steel, shouting and roaring on the other side. A pair of guards saluted them with a hand on their chest. Hedwig saluted them in return, while Freyja simply strode towards the gate and Harry followed along.

"The Lady returns!" one of the guards shouted. "Open the gate!"

The gate opened a fraction, and Freyja led them into a large courtyard, which was full of people fighting. Training, Harry realised. As they moved along the walkway, Harry allowed his eyes to roam over the mass of battling bodies, and understood he was watching incredible fighters. The absolute elite.

They were fast. Strong, and agile. He would see men and women being torn to shreds by their opponent, only to be remade in an instant. Their sparring partner would then help them up, and laugh and joke. It was ghastly.

Then: "Sigfríður!"

A woman's voice cut through the commotion, clear as the chime of a brass bell. "It's you! You have returned!"

The group stopped moving, and Harry watched a blonde woman in a very similar outfit to Hedwig's rush towards them. A smile broke out on Hedwig's face, and she took a few steps forward to embrace the newcomer.

"By Freyja's holy light! It's been too long, my friend," the blonde said and stepped back from Hedwig.

She turned to Freyja, and put a hand on her chest. "Milady. I'm glad to see you return."

The Lady of the Light inclined her head. "Brynhildur. It's good to see you, as well. I see your charges are doing well."

"Of course, milady. Only the best will do."

"Well, they are impressive, that's for sure," Harry said, and looked at Brynhildur.

"And you are?" the woman in question asked and looked over Harry with a critical eye.

"Name's Harry."

"He's my Champion, Bryn," Freyja said jovially.

Bryn stared at Harry. "Him? This... is your Champion?"

"He is. And he's done very well so far," Freyja said with a smile.

Harry felt embarrassed. "Well, I've done a couple of things, sure. I'd not hold a candle to anyone here, I imagine."

Do not doubt yourself, Harry.

Harry turned to his friend. "Well, I don't want to sound like an arrogant arse. There are enough of those around, Hedwig."

Harry, with what you've accomplished, you'd have to spend all day, every day mimicking that little Malfoy shit to be called arrogant.

"Hedwig, I do not boast. You know that."

There's a difference to being boastful, and being proud of one's accomplishments, Hedwig sent his way, her voice annoyed. People will lose respect for you, if you do not claim what is yours.

"Hedwig, I-"

However, before Harry could get any further, Bryn stepped in front Hedwig. "Why do you not speak!?" she almost shouted and glared her friend in the eye. "And your name's not Hedwig!"

"You know, I've been wondering about that, myself," Harry said, while eyeing Brynhildur.

Freyja sighed. "All will be revealed. I suppose you better come with us, Bryn. You must know what's going on."

The group went inside, once Bryn had delegated her duties to her next in command. They reached a room of the central chamber of the first floor, and Freyja led them inside. A server came running, and the goddess asked them to bring a large pitcher of mead and four flagons.

"So, why doesn't my friend speak?" Bryn asked in a sharp voice.

Again, Freyja sighed. She still had not truly accepted her daughter's sacrifice, herself. "Bryn, do you remember when I asked for volunteers to watch over and if need be, protect my Champion?"

"Ido," the Valkyrie said. "I even stepped forth, myself."

Freyja smiled. "Yes, you did. However, when my daughter approached me for the task, I knew I had my agent. She was always more... nurturing than you, Bryn. I am not trying to offend you, dear. It's just an observation."

"I can certainly see how that might be," Harry commented, and received a glare from Bryn, while Hedwig grinned. Harry's heart missed a beat. The glint in those amber eyes was mesmerising. The grin turned to a smile. A smile full of love and devotion.

"Alright, fine. She's a softie," Bryn huffed.

Freyja laughed. "So, I transformed my daughter, the very first of the Valkyries, into an animal of her choosing. At first, the mission was only to last for a few years, or until Harry could take care of himself. However, I underestimated how badly the Darkness wanted to end my Champion. How far they would reach."

Freyja rose from her chair and began pacing. "So, I needed to know Harry was protected. I had Fawkes looking after you as well, once you arrived at Hogwarts, but he was also needed at Dumbledore's side. So, there were annoying gaps I needed to fill."

"I had Hedwig with me in the summers, to keep me company," Harry commented.

"Yes. Companionship, friendship is essential. Especially for one who grew up like you did, Harry," Freyja said. "However, the spell on my daughter was failing. As I said, it was only supposed to last for a few years. And then, there came that time you were attacked by the Dementors."

Harry frowned. "Bloody things..."

To his surprise, Bryn bristled as well. "Agreed. A stain upon any reality they exist in."

"Indeed," the goddess said. "Now, the reason my daughter wasn't around to fend off the attack, was because at that same moment, we were strengthening her transformation. Doing so required a... sacrifice."

"What kind of sacrifice?" Bryn asked in a whisper.

"Hedwig, what did you do?" Harry was glaring at her.

"She needed to sacrifice a part of herself to power the incantation. Something she loved, to make certain it would be powerful enough. Her voice. She used to love to sing, so she chose the thing about herself she loved the most."

Harry stared at Hedwig, his gaze furious. "Why the hell would you do that?!" Harry exclaimed. "Why would you... why..."

Harry couldn't go on. It was always the same. People sacrificing themselves for him. If not by death, then by mutilating their bodies... His parents, Sirius, Hedwig... It was maddening.

He turned to Hedwig again, only to find her an inch from his face. She grabbed the front of his armour and crushed her lips to his in a kiss, filled with burning passion. Not knowing how to react, Harry simply put his hands on her hips. Once the kiss was over, Hedwig leaned back to look Harry in the eye, her gaze unwavering, strong as steel.

I did what I did, because I knew the kind of person you were growing to be. What kind of man you would emerge as, when the world needed you. And I was not disappointed. I wasn't happy when you left with Fawkes, but I knew you were alright. I must tell you, I've never been more lonely in my life, but I understood why you had to remain away from me. Never again.

"Oh, spare me..." Bryn groaned while looking at the pair. At that moment, she was kind of glad her friend could not speak.

"Love is the greatest of all powers, Brynhildur. It will cut through any darkness, and they will need all the love they can muster, once they head for battle," Freyja reminded the captain of her forces. "Which brings me to the other thing we need to talk about."

"And what's that?" Harry asked, once he and Hedwig had taken their seats.

"I need you to do the same thing you're doing back home, in England."

Harry frowned. "What? I'm already doing that! I've already destroyed one Horcrux, and I know what person is possessed by another one. I need to discover the third one."

"Well, yes, I need you to do that. But I'm talking about your efforts to bring the peoples of your land together."

Harry's shoulders slumped. "Really? You want me to go to that bloody summit, and try to bring everyone together?"

"Yes," Freyja said, and took a drink of her mead.

"I fail to see the reasoning, milady," Bryn cut in. "Why would they follow him? He's an unknown."

Freyja shook her head. "He is not, Bryn. He and his friends arrived at exactly the right place for Harry to establish a presence with the elves. He saved the life of Queen Shala, and the elves will respect that."

"And the Orcs? Dwarves? Humans?" Bryn asked.

Harry just sat there, watching the byplay, his hand on top of Hedwig's. This was heaps of fun.

"My agents will spread the rumour of Harry defeating an Irontail among the orcs. Orcs value and respect strength and honour. Harry has both aplenty. And he's extremely well connected among the human population, given his lineage. He will have many allies."

Bryn turned to regard Harry, her respect for the human rising exponentially. "An Irontail? Not a simple feet!"

"I just did what I needed to do," Harry said with a shrug. "So, the dwarves?" Harry asked.

Freyja continued. "That sword of yours. Do you know its history?"

Harry shook his head. "No, not really. Gryffindor didn't tell me anything about it, and I haven't studied it in any detail."

"That sword is Caliburn, the sister sword of Arthur Pendragon's Excalibur. They were forged in the fires of Niðavellir, by the dwarf Sindri and his brother Brökkur. The simple fact that you carry the blade will afford you some respect among the dwarves."

"Right. So, Arthur's sword wasn't built by the Avalonians?"

"No. One of many things the Arthurian legends are wrong about."

Freyja looked deeply into Harry's eyes, then. "Harry, I need you to lead the fight against the Darkness and Chaos. Perhaps it can be prevented, but I fear it may be too late." Freyja's face was ominously grave.

"Why me?" Harry asked with a sigh. "King Arthur is here, isn't he? He's done that sort of thing before. He has the experience."

The goddess nodded. "He is indeed here, and he will no doubt fight at your side Harry, but you must lead. People are drawn to you. You give them strength in a way I have rarely seen. And the best chance we have of all the races uniting under one banner, is if you're the one carrying it."

Harry let out a deep breath. "If you think that's what is needed, I will try. But what about the enemy? If I am your Champion, it stands to reason that the forces of the Dark... Chaos, have an agent of their own?"

Freyja inclined her head. "Yes. In your own world, that would be Tom Riddle. Over here, they have remained hidden, no doubt aided by other gods, invested in the destruction of the world. The way you went about destroying the Horcruxes was the right one, so one of the agents of the enemy most likely brought them through to here to facilitate their plans."

Harry nodded. It wasn't anything he hadn't expected. There was a moment of quiet when he suddenly recalled what Freyja had said earlier, about love, and he also remembered she was regarded by some as the Norse goddess of love. He had a question for Freyja, but he wasn't certain he wanted to hear the answer. In the end, he decided he needed the truth.

"Did you have something to do with me falling in love all those women? And they with me?" he asked and stood up. His eyes were hard.

Harry...

Freyja held up a hand toward her daughter, who went silent. "Before we go into this, I need you to understand that I am one of the most powerful deities you will ever come across. In my own pantheon, only Óðinn, Þór and Frigg are my betters, when it comes to power."

"Alright," Harry said, not liking the direction this was going.

"And yet, even with all that power, I cannot create love out of nothing. The potential must be there. Nymphadora, and Fleur were already in love with you. Fleur's... other half pushed her to finally end things with William, and seek you out. You were also a safe haven for a griefing Nymphadora, who allowed herself to act upon her dormant feelings. You had also found your way into my daughter's heart, who had watched you become the man you are. Bellatrix fell in love with you, when she discovered you were the complete opposite of Riddle. The bond only made the inevitable happen more quickly."

"And the rest?" Harry asked softly.

Freyja smiled. "There was little chance of Narcissa not falling for you, Harry. You saved her life, and treated her with respect and challenged her intellectually. Cared for her well being. She adores you, Harry. She would always have made her move, eventually."

Freyja was pacing slowly. "Andromeda was a slightly different prospect. She had just recently lost her husband. Then, you reunited her with her sisters. And you, the head of her House, welcomed her into the family again, and you mean to bring them into the Light."

"Well, I..."

"Harry, you do not realize the effect you have on other people," Freyja cut in. "Andromeda was slipping into depression. Rapidly. I nudged her along, because she deserves happiness. You all do, and she should be very happy with you, of that I am quite certain."

This was all becoming too much. "And Minerva?" Harry asked.

Freyja sighed. "Do you know why Minerva McGonagall has remained alone, all those years?"

Harry shook his head. "No. There have been rumours, but I don't pay any heed to Hogwarts rumours."

Freyja raised a brow. "No, I don't imagine you would. When she was a young woman, Minerva fell in love with a man. That woman had always guarded her heart and soul very carefully. For some reason, she was afraid to open up. Rather silly, for such a strong woman. She eventually worked up the nerve to let a young man by the name of Dougal McGregor, into her heart."

"What happened?" Harry asked, hating the idea that Minerva had been hurt.

"Dougal was a good man, and he cared deeply for Minerva. However, he was also a devout Catholic, as was his whole family."

Harry slumped back in his chair and growled deep in his throat. "Fuck..."

Freyja looked at her Champion sadly. "He could not accept the fact that Minerva was a witch. She Obliviated him, and walled off the romantic part of her heart. I couldn't get in. I tried, repeatedly. The thought that a woman of Minerva McGonagall's calibre would end her life as a spinster was unfathomable."

"So how did you reach her?" Harry asked.

Freyja smiled. "Through you, of course. Minerva is of old Scottish stock. She was raised on stories of the old Gaelic warriors, the Gallóglaigh. She saw you in Hogsmeade, sword in hand, ready to take the fight to the enemy. It tore a tiny hole in the wall around her heart, and that was all I needed."

"And me?"

Freyja approached Harry and cupped his cheek lovingly. "The way you grew up had the unusual consequence of your heart being wide open, and extremely receptive of love. The way for those women into your heart was an easy one. There's no need to go over that. You know it yourself, Harry."

My mother knows her way around mortal hearts, Harry, Hedwig sent his way. She's been doing this for a very long time.

"But, none of us are believers," Harry uttered. "I read somewhere that deities need the faith of mortals to exist, to be able to affect them like this."

Freyja shook her head. "No. That is, and never has been necessary. We exist, and that's all there is to it. True, I cannot affect the hearts of those who have opened them to some of my cousins from the uncountable number of pantheons in all the different universes."

"You know, I get the feeling there's more to all this, than what you've told me," Harry remarked. "About me and the girls, I mean."

"There is," Freyja confirmed. "If we manage to prevent the beginning of Ragnarök, we will need to go to Surtur's realm, Múspell and end him, once and for all, lest he tries again, to bring about the end of the universe. Surtur's realm is a place of evil. All who enter are corrupted, turned to wickedness. According to an old fable, a man who carries the love of at least seven women in his heart, has a chance to weather the storm."

Harry simply rubbed his temples. "I thought Freyr was supposed to kill the fire giant."

The goddess nodded. "That's what the prophecy says, but things are never set in stone, Harry. I love my brother, but he is not strong enough in the mind, to travel through the fire realm. He's also much too frivolous when it comes to love."

"And Þór?"

"No. He's too impulsive, and he's been having a bit of a tiff with his wife Sif for a couple of centuries now. She even threw him out of Bilskirnir. That's not a good combination."

"Alright, fine. So, how do we prevent the end of the world, then?" Harry asked in tired resignation.

"We must prevent an all out war in the Otherworld, as well as your own. These two are the last realms the forces of Chaos need to devolve into proper anarchy for the giant to escape his fiery prison."

You must believe in Minerva and the others, Harry, Hedwig sent his way and embraced him from behind. They will succeed. You must focus on the here and now.

"My daughter speaks true, Harry. Your friends and allies are very capable. They have a very good chance of taking care of Riddle. And once his soul comes through, my friend Hel will be here to 'welcome' him."

"I thought Hel was evil," Harry remarked.

Freyja smiled at that. "A common misconception. She's a little cold, and does not suffer fools. Hers is not an enviable lot. She guards Niflheim, a part of the Underworld. She was sent there, because some of my colleagues did not care for her... appearance. She and Hades are great friends, as a matter of fact. A word of caution, should you ever meet her, Harry. Never try and lie to her. She has an eye of fire, that sees only the truth."

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "So we need to prevent a war, and find the Horcruxes, before attacking Surtur." He shook his head. It was never one thing, but everything at once...

"I would think those Horcruxes are beings of Chaos," Bryn said. "There is a good chance at least one will be at the summit. To try and sabotage it."

"I agree. And the Dreadnought?" Harry asked.

"Hermes will find him," Freyja assured Harry. "Now, I do believe it is time for you to make your way back to the Keep, Harry. People will no doubt have started to arrive."

"What will you do?" Harry asked Freyja.

"I will monitor what I can from here. Please remember that I can offer very little aid, unless Ragnarök doesdescend upon us. Should that happen, you will have my full support and all of Ásgarður's forces."

Harry simply nodded, eager to be away. He'd had his fill of this place for now. "Alright. I'll be seeing you."

He turned to Bryn. "It was nice meeting you, Brynhildur. Let's hope I won't have to see you again too soon."

The warrior woman grinned at him and clasped his arm. "Yes, I would prefer not seeing you again, until you come back here, years from now."

Harry made for the door, Hedwig walking beside him. He eyed her out of the corner of his eye, not bothering with trying to get her to stay behind. She would never accept, and he honestly didn't want to let her out of his sight.

The pair of them walked down the path to the gate, and once they were through, Hedwig held out her arm for Harry to take.

Take my arm. I will transport us back to Starling Cliffs.

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When Lucius Malfoy came to, he had an awful headache. He looked around, seeing nothing but the walls and the low ceiling of the room he occupied. He was carefully tied to a hard, wooden chair. Instinctively, he tried his bonds, but found them properly fastened.

A door straight in front of him opened, and two people came in. He sneered as Minerva McGonagall and Alastor Moody entered, both of whom were looking very grave.

"Malfoy. Awake, I see," Moody growled.

"This is my interrogation team?" Malfoy drawled. "A pathetic excuse for a professor and a cripple? How pathetic. You'll-"

Moody casually waved his wand, striking Malfoy across the face with a bludgeoning spell. Before the blond bastard managed to bring his face around, he was struck from the other side by Minerva.

Malfoy was certain he could stand firm, that his Occlumency training would keep those snivelling idiots out of his head. Of course, he knew neither of them would be willing to go as far as it took to have him break. They'd have to rip the information out of his head, and then it would be useless.

"A slap in the face. How... original," Malfoy mocked them and spat some blood on the floor.

"Nay, 'twas not original," Moody growled. "But it makes me feel better than a glass of Ogden's."

"Aye," Minerva agreed. "Quite good."

"Where have you taken my son?" Lucius asked. He didn't much care, to be honest. The boy was an idiot.

"He's with his mother," Minerva informed their captive. "Now, where is Riddle?"

Malfoy scoffed. "You should know better by now, Minerva. The Dark Lord values loyalty above all else. His business will not be divulged willingly, by me."

"Loyalty, eh?" Moody said with a ghastly grin. "I heard the snakey bastard was not best pleased when you weaseled out of Azkaban, claiming to be under the Imperius. And he was even less impressed when that offspring of yours failed to kill the Old Man."

Malfoy smiled a smug smile. "I worked my way back into my Lord's good graces, Moody. He does so enjoy the sight of Muggles suffering and dying."

"It seems to me, that the maniac isn't too particular who dies, these days, Malfoy," Minerva remarked with a raised brow.

There was the barest flicker of uncertainty on the face of the blond ponce, and he almost managed to hide it. Minerva's sharp eyes saw it, however.

"He's been growing erratic over the past while, hasn't he? Ever since he tried to possess Harry. Desperate, sick. Paranoid. Harry fought him, and sent him running with his tail between his legs. Did you know that?"

Malfoy frowned.

"It happened some time before Harry did it again, at Hogsemeade," Minerva continued.

No, Malfoy most certainly had not heard of that. And that, along with how the Potter brat had indeed so easily rattled the Dark Lord in Hogsmeade had sent a murmur of discontent through the ranks of the Death Eaters. All of which was stomped out ruthlessly. Try as he might, Lucius could not disagree with the woman's words.

"Well, Potter won't be doing any more damage, will he? Dead as he is."

Minerva's hand clutched her wand tightly, in an effort to remain calm. She knew Malfoy was trying to push her buttons, and it was working. She decided another tactic was in order.

"He may be gone, but surely you've heard the news?" Minerva asked. "She looks so happy these days, Malfoy. Narcissa's ever so happy to continue the Line of Potter."

That did it, broke through the Occlumency shields. Malfoy snarled, and tried to rip free of his bindings. At that exact moment, Severus Snape ducked into the room, and when Malfoy looked to see who was coming, he happened to lock eyes with one of the greatest Legilimens within the British Isles.

Malfoy's features went slack as Snape bombarded his shields with a battering ram, thundering past the other man's defences, almost immediately. As Snape delved deeper into the twisted mind of one Lucius Malfoy, he almost gagged when he saw just what Malfoy had done, to find himself in Riddle's good graces once more. What he had made his son do, as well.

Now, Snape would be the first one to admit that he wasn't the most sociable person in the world, and that children were placed very near the top of the list of things he disliked. However, when he saw what the older Malfoy had made his son do, made him sick. And when he saw that Draco hadn't exactly hated it, he almost sicked up.

Snape grit his teeth and searched for anything related to Riddle, focusing on anything that might have to do with his whereabouts. Images of locations flashed through Snape's mind, but were quickly dismissed, as he knew they had been abandoned.

Snape wasn't getting anywhere. He decided to try and filter his search even further. He focused on the words 'weakness', 'illness' and 'cure'. Those parameters yielded immediate results.

Images of Riddle's failed attempts to cure himself of whatever ailed him, flashed across Snape's mind. To his immense surprise, Snape felt a twinge of gratitude towards the Potter brat for causing Riddle such pain and suffering.

After what seemed an eternity, Snape finally found the most recent memory Malfoy had of Riddle. It was muddled and had clearly been tampered with to some extent, but the former potions professor managed to pull an image of a hill, with a single broken tower on top of it. They had him!

"Riddle's at Glastonbury Tor," Snape said when he quit Malfoy's head.

Minerva frowned. This could potentially be bad news. That hill was steeped in magical lore and myth. Most notably, the Arthurian legends. It was the place most scholars believed to be the ancient island of Avalon. Supposedly, there was great power to be had, for those willing to pay the price and powerful enough to extract it.

"We must gather as many as we can, and go there as soon as we're able," Minerva said. "I do not know what power the Tor yet holds, but I would rather it not find its way into Riddle's hands."

"Aye," Moody growled and left the room, his wooden leg clunking as he went. "I'll go send a message to Delacour. We could do with a few more wands, just to be the safe side."

Snape glared at Malfoy, who had lost consciousness during the visit, his head on his chest. "And what of him?" he asked Minerva.

Minerva turned a cold stare at Snape, before flicking her wand, making Malfoy's head fall back. Then she swiped her wand from left to right, before holstering it once more and leaving the room. Nothing happened for a second, then blood began seeping from a fine cut across Malfoy's throat. Snape stared at the corpse of Lucius Malfoy, then turned a numb look towards the door when heard someone approach.

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Meanwhile...

Narcissa rushed up the steps to Grimmauld Place, feeling more anxious than she cared to admit. She had just received news that her son and ex husband had been captured by Minerva. She barely acknowledged anyone, as she walked towards the stairs leading down to the familiar cellar.

As Narcissa neared the room Draco was in, she passed Severus, who was waiting outside another room, which she assumed contained Mr. Malfoy. She locked eyes with Severus for a second as she passed him. Once she was at the door to her son's room, Shacklebolt stopped her.

"Narcissa, I want to warn you, that Draco isn't well. He's done things..."

Narcissa interrupted with a raised hand. "Don't. I need to see this for myself. Without any interference. Despite what I tried to tell myself, he is still my son, and I need to see him."

Shacklebolt nodded. "Alright. I'll be right here if you need anything, Narcissa."

Without replying, Narcissa entered the room, finding her son bound to a wooden chair. When he saw who entered the room, his face twisted in disgust. Narcissa ignored the look, and sat down opposite her son.

"Hello, Draco."

Narcissa hadn't expected her son to answer, but the sheer hate she saw shining out of his eyes was a little unsettling, even if she had known it would be there. Was there no hope for him? What had he done, to wiggle his way back into Riddle's graces? She steeled herself.

"Nothing to say?" Narcissa asked, and made herself comfortable in her chair. "You do understand that even if you do not talk, I can simply rip the information out of your head. You were never level headed enough to learn Occlumency. Too weak."

That got a reaction from her son. So easy... "I do not need to speak to whores who sully themselves with lesser beings," he drawled and threw a look of utter disgust at his mother. "You should count yourself lucky we didn't get our hands on you. We would have cut you open like a fish! You are no match for trusted followers of the Great Lord."

If Draco had hoped to unsettle his mother, he was sorely disappointed, because Narcissa merely laughed coldly in his face. "Threats, vulgar language. Boasting. It seems to me that you've not grown at all, Draco. You're still the same, trying to mask your failings by acting like a brat."

There was practically spittle running from Draco's mouth. "You allowed Potter to have his way with you! Allowed yourself to carry his disgusting brood!"

Now, that did anger Narcissa a bit, so she decided to be a little petty. "I honestly think it would be more accurate to say that I had my way with him, Draco." She mentally grinned at her son's look of horror. "And yes, I do indeed carry his child. I only wish he was here with me."

A smirk appeared on Draco's face. "But he's not, is he? That half blooded freak's dead!"

Narcissa took a deep breath to try and remain calm, and gazed into Draco's eyes. "Yes, he is. But he will live on. In your half brother."

Draco snarled and meant to throw himself at his mother, but slumped back when she swished her wand, and lunged into his mind. As expected, and considering Draco's emotional state, it was a mess of swirling images, and feelings. Hate, anger, fear. And absolute devotion to that bastard Riddle.

Narcissa forged on, intent on discovering what her son had done, to be accepted by Riddle again, and she soon found it. Raping, torturing and murdering of Muggles. It horrified Narcissa, but the feeling Draco associated with these heinous acts, absolutely disgusted her. Sadistic, demented pleasure. She retreated from her son's sick mind and rose to her feet.

"May you rot in Azkaban, until the day you die, Draco Malfoy," Narcissa said coldly and quit the room. Once outside, she closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. She could break away from her old life now, free of any regret. She eyed Kingsley, before moving along the corridor and saw Minerva stroll out of the room that held her ex husband, an urgent spring in the step of the Headmistress. What was going on?

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Narcissa stepped into Lucius' cell and surveyed the scene. She clicked her tongue in mild annoyance. "I would have liked to do that, myself. Oh, well. At least the bastard got what he deserved."

She noticed Snape's disbelieving look. "Suprised, Severus?"

Snape could only nod. "I am," he managed to say. "Minerva does not seem to be the type."

Narcissa thought of Harry, and smiled. "Never underestimate the lengths a woman will go to protect the man she loves."

Having recovered, Snape tilted his head to the side a little. "Narcissa, surely you do not believe this nonsense that Potter will return? No one has ever come back from beyond the Veil. You're too smart to delude yourself like this. In fact, you all are."

Snape suppressed a shiver at Narcissa's frigid glare. "We know in our hearts that Harry lives. We also know that nothing shall ever stop him from returning to us. And may whatever gods those who would seek to keep Harry from us, embrace them, because he will send them all on their way to face their judgement."

And with that, she swept out of the room, leaving behind a quiet Severus Snape. There had been such utter conviction in Narcissa's words, such devotion. Loyalty. Even in death, Harry Potter commanded the respect of those who had thrown their lot in with him. Remarkable.

Snape let his eyes wander to the dead man in the chair, and couldn't help but think back to how most of Riddle's followers had been relieved to hear he'd been vanquished. This was one of the most glaring differences between Potter and Riddle, who lead by fear, and demanded people's respect. Potter didn't have to demand anything; people followed him, because they knew he cared, and would do whatever he possibly could for them, if the call came. Not unlike Dumbledore, as a matter of fact.

Shaking his head, Snape quit the room in long strides and caught Narcissa as she was heading up from the large cellar. He grabbed her wrist to make her stop. "Draco?" he simply asked.

Narcissa sighed sadly. "I tried to tell myself that Draco was no son of mine, after he so foolishly spurned the opportunity Harry presented us with, and left to find his father. But seeing him again, I... I dived into his mind and what I saw horrified me, Severus."

Snape nodded. "I know, Narcissa, I am sorry. Where is he?"

Narcissa clenched her jaw a couple of times, before she continued. "He's been taken to the Ministry cells, to await sentencing. He chose to do those awful things, and he deserves whatever judgement the Wizengamot passes."

She was right, Severus knew. The boy was beyond saving. "He could never understand properly, that actions have consequences."

"He has his father to blame," Narcissa hissed. Then she sighed sadly. "And me, I suppose. I shall be very glad, once this part of my life is over." She put a hand on her belly. "I truly am starting a new chapter in my life, Severus. One that will be very different from what has come before."

Andie called out to her sister, and she and Snape hurried into the dining room, which was full of people. Every available Order member was in attendance, and it was quite a large group. Minerva was pacing by the end of the dining table, her hands behind her back.

"We've found Riddle," she began, and the room went deathly quiet.

"Are you certain, Minerva?" someone asked, only do be rewarded with the Headmistress' legendary stern gaze.

"Of course I am certain, Matthews. I would not have called everyone here, if I wasn't."

"So, where is he?" George Weasley asked.

"Glastonbury Tor," Minerva revealed.

Hermione let out a sound of dismay. "He must not have discovered its secrets! Stolen its power..."

Minerva gave the young woman a reassuring look. "I do not believe he has taken it, if he has even discovered it. He would not hesitate to let us feel his wrath, egotistical as he is."

"Aye," Moody said as he quit the Floo. "Delacour has gone to scramble his troops. He asked for half an hour."

"Good," Minerva said with a nod. "It will give us time to plan our attack, and Severus needs time to scout the location."

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Jean-Luc strolled quickly through the halls of the Sénat. His friends across the Channel had finally found Riddle after weeks of searching! A searing flame of hate rushed through his heart as he thought of that... thing.

Riddle was the reason why his daughter was dead. McGonagall was adamant that Fleur was only 'missing', and that Mr. Potter would bring her back. Apolline and Gabrielle had taken those words to heart, the optimists that they were, but Jean-Luc could not. He was a realist. He had to be, considering his line of work. Fleur was dead, and that was all there was to it.

But now, there was a chance for him to make that filthy monster Riddle pay for his crimes, to make certain no other family had to go through what his had, when Fleur died. A chance for some small measure of vengeance. It was a time to end this, and when Moody had asked for his help, Jean-Luc had not hesitated. In fact, he had been working harder than ever, to ensure that when the British called, the French would answer.

Jean-Luc had called for an emergency meeting, but when he had learned the Sénat was already in session, a nasty feeling began forming in the pit of his stomach. And when he discovered who had called the meeting before him, a touch of desperation made itself known. Not now! Of all the times they could have done this...

Jean-Luc was upon the doors of the assembly hall, and stopped in front of the two guards. He saluted them.

"Directeur!" The two guards half shouted, and opened the doors.

Jean-Luc strode into the chambers, and was greeted with almost a full house. A member of the assembly was standing in the podium, and when the Director of the French DMLE realized who it was, a cold fist seized his heart.

Armand du Plessis. Or as he preferred to be known; Lord Richeliu. Pretentious piece of shit. He was one of the batards that was sympathetic to Riddle's views. Of course, they mostly saw Riddle as a tool to increase their personal wealth and power.

"All those in favour of having the English take care of their own problems?"

A great many wands lit up, and Jean-Luc's shoulders fell. He was too late! Still, he would not give up.

"Wait!" Jean-Luc exclaimed. "I demand an audience!"

Jean-Luc's standing as Head of the French DMLE afforded him the rights to demand an audience in any vote, so Armand was forced to stand down, but the self satisfied smirk he sent toward Jean-Luc had the lawman feeling uneasy. Was there nothing he could do?

"Fellow Sénate members, I have learned our allies from across the Channel have located Voldemort, and have requested our help in defeating him. This is our chance to end the threat!"

"And why should we endanger French lives on British soil?" Armand sneered.

"Because Voldemort will not be satisfied with just Britain. If he conquers the British Isles, he will march over here, mark my words."

"All the more reason to preserve our strength," Armand replied, that same sneer still on his face. "Focus on our defences." This was met with an unsettling chorus of agreeing voices.

"That doesn't make any sense!" Jean-Luc exclaimed. "We now have a chance to end it all!"

Armand gave Jean-Luc the most condescending smile he had in his arsenal. "We have conversed, and decided not to intervene. The British will have to take care of themselves."

Jean-Luc was livid. He knew, of course, what this was all about. Du Plessis and his kin had always resented how the power of their family had all but evaporated with the end of the monarchy in 1870. It was clear to Jean-Luc, that Armand saw this as an opportunity to reclaim some of that power, and someone had clearly promised that to him, and other similarly weak minded fools.

"We have also decreed that any member of the DMLE that takes it upon themselves to go join the fight shall be relieved of their duties, and dishonourably discharged," Armand said in his nasally voice.

"You're too close to this, Jean-Luc," a man by the name of Olivier Laurent said gravelly. "We all know how your daughter died. Gallivanting into an uncharted tomb with Harry Potter. I can only assume it had something to do with the war effort."

Judging by the faces of quite many of the members in attendance, Jean-Luc knew this was pointless. Those self serving, greedy little faibles! Jean-Luc reached into his robe for his badge, and slammed it down onto the podium.

"You won't have to fire me, Armand," he said, his voice laced with disgust. "I hereby resign. And about Fleur. She died fighting for what she believed in, died to protect her friend. She held to her beliefs and principles. Can any of you say the same? Do weaklings such as yourselves even have principles? Or honour?"

Shaking his head in disgust, Jean-Luc stormed out of the hall, towards his office. He needed to go home, to give his wife the news. He reached his office, but stopped cold when he got there. In his office, five men were standing, in full battle gear. They were his Elite Force, the ones he sent in, when things were particularly bad. Men he trusted, one and all.

"By your leave, Directeur," their commander, Martin said. "We would join you."

Jean-Luc smiled, and put a hand on the man's shoulder. "I appreciate the gesture, Martin, but it will cost you boys your jobs."

Martin eyed his men, who all stood firm. "Some things are bigger than a job, Sir. We can always find work elsewhere. Perhaps the British dogs need someone to teach them how to do magic, once this is all over," he said mockingly, causing all the others in the room to laugh.

"You're certain?" Jean-Luc pressed.

"Oui," Martin said with conviction.

"Alright. Follow me to Maison Delacour!"

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Apolline Delacour was nervous, and paced the floor in front of her Floo. Mostly, however, she was excited. Her other half was feeling the stirrings of blood lust, knowing there was a battle drawing near. She whipped around, her wand at the ready when she heard the Floo burst to life, but lowered her wand when her husband stepped through.

She quickly strode to him, and took his hands in hers. "Well? What did they say?"

Jean-Luc shook his head, and Apolline felt anger threatening to break free. "Why?"

"They've been bought with promises of wealth and power, dearest," her husband said, his thumbs rubbing across her knuckles in an attempt to calm her down.

"Armand, the snake," Apolline spat. "It was him, wasn't it?"

Before Jean-Luc could answer, the Floo roared again, and two of the Aurors came through, followed quickly by the other three. "Madame," Martin said and dipped his head in respect.

Apolline smiled, in spite of herself. "Martin. It is good to see you."

Martin smiled pleasantly and shook Apolline's hand. He'd always liked her. "Likewise, as always, Mrs. Delacour."

The Veela raised a brow. "How often must I tell you, Martin? It's Apolline!"

"At least once more, Mrs. Delacour," Martin replied with the barest hint of a smile.

Jean-Luc grinned at them. This was a game they liked to play, and right now, they were using it to try and release some of the tension.

"Are you all ready?" Jean-Luc asked, and approached the Floo.

At the affirmative nods of everyone in the room, Jean-Luc removed an innocent looking jar from a cabinet in the room, and placed it onto a table. All the gathered mages put a finger on it, and Apolline's husband spoke the activation code, and all seven were whisked away from Maison Delacour.

They arrived a second later in a designated area in the cellar of Grimmauld place, and Jean-Luc led his group through the cellar, up the stairs and into the magically expanded dining room of the headquarters of The Order of the Phoenix.

"Jean-Luc!" Minerva greeted him as soon as they entered. "What's the word?"

"This is it, I'm afraid, Minerva," Jean-Luc replied mournfully. "It seems the poisonous tongue of the enemy has reached the shores of France, and the Sénat refuses to take any part in this. They've been bought with promises of wealth and power, should Riddle turn his gaze across the Channel."

Minerva closed her eyes and sighed. Not the news she had been hoping for, but she recognized the uniform the five wizards he had brought with him, and knew what they were capable of. Not to mention Apolline and Jean-Luc, who were formidable mages, themselves.

"Alright," Moody said in his gravelly voice. "This is it! He growled and let his eye wander over all the assembled wizards. His gaze lingered on Narcissa, Andromeda and Hermione. The sisters Black had accepted that they had to remain behind, but Granger had vehemently refused. She maintained that she wasn't pregnant, that she had no right, not to go.

"When we arrive, we must be ready for an all out attack! I am fairly certain it is impossible to Apparate within the Tor, so we do not have to worry about Riddle running. This will not be easy; the enemy has the ground, and has most likely fortified their position."

Minerva turned to the Weasley twins, who nodded at her. "We have everything we can reasonably carry with us, professor," George said. "Lee and our girlfriends are also armed. Here," he said, and began distributing the same kind of toffee he had given Minerva, earlier. "This will make certain you won't be affected by any of the gasses."

"Good lad!" Moody barked. "I have been to the Tor before, and I know the layout. We will approach the hill from all directions, and do not hold back! Our best bet is to throw everything we can at them."

He turned to the French. "I want you to lead the charge to the entrance. You ready?"

"We are," Apolline said firmly. "They will die, and I will feast on them," she hissed, her eyes turning black for a moment, until Jean-Luc grabbed a hold of her hand.

Moody merely gave her a feral grin in return. "Aye, I daresay you will, lass."

Minerva stepped up to Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna, who had demanded to be brought along, and seeing she was of age, and had no family to tell her 'no', there was nothing Minerva could do about that.

"You four are with me," Minerva began. "We will provide cover for the breaching team. They are the greatest fighters among us, and have the best chance of defeating Riddle. We must see to it, that they get inside."

"Yes, Professor," Hermione replied, and the other three nodded their agreement.

"Good. Now, relax as much as you can. We leave as soon as Severus returns with news of our enemy."

When the Headmistress had left, Ron took a hold of Hermione's arm. "Could I speak with you, Hermione?"

Hermione wasn't all that interested in speaking to Ron, but given what they were about to do, she supposed she should. Ron led her to the room Harry and he had shared, back when they had been staying at Grimmauld. He sat on one of the beds, and stared at the wall for a moment, while Hermione waited, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed over her chest and a finger tapping.

"Ron-"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Ron interrupted in a low voice. "I've been a right git to you, and I am sorry. I haven't been the friend you and Harry deserved, and my contribution to our friendship hasn't been what it should be."

Hermione was a bit surprised, but dared not say anything. Ron wasn't in the habit of apologizing, and she didn't want him to lose the thread.

"You were right, Hermione. About everything. I acted like a spoiled brat in that last fight of ours, and I just... The things I said to you were not OK. You'll be brilliant on the Wizengamot, Hermione. I know that, and I've always known you'd go far. I was so proud when you took office. I once peeked in the door of the Potter office. You didn't see me." Ron grinned a small grin. "Your nose was buried in a book, as always."

Despite herself, Hermione blushed. Ron wasn't wrong. She almost always had her face planted in one tome or other.

"It fit you, Hermione. That chair. That desk. That place is where you belong. Being on the Wizengamot isn't a full time job, so you'll probably take a position at Hogwarts; Transfiguration, right? McGonagall would love to have you. You've always been ambitious, and I should have been more supportive." Ron dropped his head. "And I belittled you! What kind of friend does that? Let alone a boyfriend!" His voice had gotten thick.

Hermione pushed from the wall, and knelt in front of her friend, and sought out his eyes. "Why, Ron? We were doing alright. Surely, there are couples out there that did worse than us. What changed?" She knew, of course, but she needed him to say it.

"Do you know why we became a couple?" Ron asked, and pulled Hermione up, so that she could sit beside him.

"Not really," Hermione admitted. "I tried finding the reason after Harry returned, but I couldn't. Seeking comfort in each other, perhaps?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't find the reason, either. I know it doesn't excuse what I did, and I will understand if you can't forgive me, but I have something more to say," Ron said, and looked Hermione in the eyes.

"Go on, then," Hermione said in a low voice.

Ron took a deep breath. "You know I've always been insecure and all the time we were together, I kept hearing this voice in my head, telling me that you would always choose Harry over me if he ever came home. And you did."

"Ron," Hermione tried, but her friend was on a roll.

"And why wouldn't you? You have so much in common with him, than with me. He's a better friend, and when he returned, he was so bloody different, and he was the Vigilante! It was just all too much, and my stupid brain decided to go on holiday."

Hermione sighed. "I am sorry for how I ended things between us, Ron. It was awful of me, how I treated you, and you didn't deserve it. I should have talked it over with you, and properly explain why I was ending it. I am sorry. Everything happened so quickly. Harry returning, Narcissa opening my eyes to what I had felt, ever since that troll incident... I handled it horribly."

Ron rand a hand through his hair, and let out a breath. "I reckon I did deserve it... But we would never have worked out, Hermoine. We both know that. Even if I hadn't been such an arse. But even if we're done, I don't want us to stop being friends. We've been through too much together." Ron said, his voice holding just a bit of desperation. "I want to do better. To be the friend you deserve. That Harry deserves, if he ever comes back."

Hermione felt a smile beginning to form on her lips. She could tell Ron was absolutely sincere, and it gladdened her immensely. "I would like that, Ron. As would Harry, I think."

"You think so?" Ron asked hopefully.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Harry may look different, and he may have done some incredible things after he disappeared from Privet Drive, but he's still the same old Harry. In fact, I'd say he's become an even greater person, now that he's gained some confidence in himself."

"I can probably still trounce him in chess, though!" Ron said with a grin, which had Hermione giggling.

"I think you just might."

Then, Ron got serious again. "Are you and Harry going to have a go at it?"

Hermione lifted one shoulder. "I don't know, Ron. I mean, we are trying to make a better society, to make Muggleborn a more integral part of it, and me being in what is a relationship steeped in Pureblood custom, might not send the right message."

Ron's eyebrows rose, at that. "But you want to, right?"

After a moment, Hermione nodded. "We do."

"Then you just tell anyone who gives you any stick, to go bugger themselves! You're Hermione bloody Granger. The first Muggleborn on the Wizengamot. Don't give a toss about what other people think," Ron said firmly.

Hermione stared at Ron, in wonder. "You know, most boys wouldn't encourage their ex-girlfriend to strike up a relationship with the other guy."

Ron shrugged. "I know things will be weird for a while, but I told you I wanted to remain friends, and do better. I can't really do that, if I'm being a git about you and Harry being together. Besides, when I top that wanker Riddle, I'll have my pick of girls," he said with a grin. "They'll be all over me!"

Hermione let out a peal of laughter at that. It was good to see Ron joking around. And they needed to relax a bit, before going out. "Just be careful, Ron."

"Of what?"

"Gold diggers," Hermione said in a faux serious voice. "Love potions, mothers desperate to have you marry their daughters. Marriage contracts. That sort of thing."

Ron let out a raucous laughter. "I'll have to keep an eye out for Romilda Vane, then!"

Hermione smiled. "But you know, Ron? You can do whatever you want. You're not stupid, you've got good instincts, and you can be pretty shrewd when you actually take time to think things through. You just have to apply yourself, make more effort. Back at Hogwarts, you did just fine when you actually wanted to."

Ron blushed. "Hermione, you don't have to do that. I know I'm not..."

"Ron!" Hermoine said firmly. "You need to believe in yourself more. That's one of the reasons you lashed out against Harry, wasn't it? Because you think he's better than you. Well, he's not. Just different, and he approaches life differently."

"Really?" Ron asked, his ears a bit red from his blushing earlier.

"Yes! Don't compare yourself to Harry, and don't try to become like him. You are your own person, and when you don't allow your insecurities to control you, you're really quite nice."

Just then, a call came from downstairs, and Ron and Hermione rushed down. Snape had arrived, and he was looking very grim, which was saying something, considering his usuall sunny disposition.

"We have a problem."

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A few hours earlier...

Voldemort was a desperate man. He didn't like being desperate, and it was a feeling he wasn't accustomed to. He was used to being in control, but he wasn't in control any more. And he hadn't been for a long time. Not since he tried to possess the Potter boy.

At first, he had surmised it had had something to do with that Mudblood's protection, but he had long since discarded that notion. No, this was something more. And Potter had turned into something more, as well. Something... beyond human. Voldemort rued the fact that there was no chance of seducing the brat to his way of thinking.

He was reluctant to admit it, but Voldemort was more vary of Potter, than he had ever been of Dumbledore. The boy had actually gone and sought power, and he had been more ruthless than the Dark Lord had thought one of Dumbledore's pets ever would be. His... effective way of dealing with Avery, Macnair and Mulchiber spoke volumes about his evolvement.

Voldemort also knew, that if he couldn't do something about his erratic control of his magic, the war was all but lost, and it had been going badly since that infernal Order had gone and taken control of the Ministry. Yet another thing that was different since Potter had returned. The Order had always been more of a reactionary force, but they were becoming increasingly more proactive. And even more so, after the brat's supposed death.

Lord Voldemort eyed the moonlit entrance to Glastonbury Tor with a vary eye. He'd been there many years before, when he was on the prowl for anything that might increase his power, and knowledge of magic. He had read the legends, and been tempted to go and take a look. It had not yielded a positive result. So, why was he compelled to go there, now?

The Tor had appeared to him in a dream the night before. The mere fact he had been dreaming was in and of itself a cause for alarm, because his mind was a carefully protected space, with several layers of protection. It was exceedingly rare for him to relax them. In fact, the only time he could think of, was when I was sating his needs with Bellatrix.

He was curious to know why he'd dreamt of the hill with the single tower on top, when it was so long since he'd been there. Voldemort unlocked the secret entrance to the hill with a flick of his wand, annoyingly thankful that he could still do such simple magic without fear of a painful backlash.

Ordering the large group of followers he had brought with him, to guard the entrance, Voldemort quickly entered, and remembering the layout, he was soon down at the bottom where the spring that fed the famous well at the foot of the hill was located. According to legend, that was where you could find the power that was supposedly hidden there.

He stood there for a moment, and watched the water flow, before he reached out and touched it. And almost keeled over as a spear of pain lanced through his mind, and his Occlumency defences were brutally battered away with incredible ease.

Tom Marvolo Riddle. A feminine voice echoed in his mind. You have sorely disappointed the 'Master'. By now, this world should be mired in utter chaos.

Riddle attempted to fight against the intrusion, but he was as powerless as a newborn babe, compared to the clearly ancient entity which had invaded his mind. In the end, he stopped struggling, and simply accepted he had lost the exchange. Still, he was ready to seize upon any weakness, should it present itself. And he would have his pound of flesh for the use of his filthy Muggle name!

"Who are you?" he asked in his cold voice.

I am Morgana, and I am your contact to the 'Master'.

If Riddle had had any eyebrows, he would have raised one. "And who is he?"

The one who has authorized me to heal you, Riddle. To give you back your power, and control of your magic.

Voldemort blinked. And again. Whoever this was, knew of his problem? Then they knew what was wrong with him. He almost demanded she tell him, when he stopped to think. Why now? And what was the cost?

"What will this cost me?" Voldemort asked carefully.

There was almost an amused feeling emanating from the water.

Nothing you cannot afford, Riddle. All we require from you, is that you continue your work, and wage war upon those who have wronged you.

"That seems to be very one sided. All in my favour, as it were. It makes me uncomfortable."

Again, the 'spirit' seemed amused. And yet, that is all we require. Murder. Mayhem. Chaos.

"Why?"

For the first time, the entity felt a little annoyed. We have vested interest in your world remaining in turmoil. It might even be time to take the fight to those horrible Muggles you hate so much. And you are... gifted in displaying your hate of those cretins.

Well, he couldn't deny that. He did so enjoy killing and torturing those magicless freaks. And with his power restored, he would regain his former control of his followers, and when the word spread, other beings would soon follow. And he could finally bring his full ire unto those pesky Order rats.

"You make an excellent point, Morgana. However, before I commit to anything, I would like to know what is wrong with me."

Very well. You were touched by the power of love, Riddle. Of the Light. One who is so deeply mired in Darkenss and hate, and foolishly tries to possess one whose heart is filled to the brim with love, compassion and Light, cannot hope to possibly escape unscathed. You were lucky to get out when you did. And you underestimated your nemesis. As you have, throughout his life.

Voldemort felt a touch of... admiration flow through him from the spirit. The Potter brat was obviously an enemy of the spirit, and yet, she felt a deep admiration for him? How odd.

Only a fool does not respect his enemy's accomplishments, Riddle. You have been acting like an arrogant fool for a very long time, and it has almost cost you everything. You're fully mortal now, thanks to your own failings. Young Mr Potter has not made those same mistakes, which is why he has had you running scared.

A feeling of absolute hatred welled up in Voldemort at the words of the spirit. He feared no man! And certainly not Potter. He was wary of him, but fear? Unthinkable! It was time he took back what was his, and showed Britain what he was capable of.

"And I assume I need to drink from the source?" he asked, and bent down on one knee.

There's a rune etched into the rock above the crack from where the water flows. Make an incision into your hand, and smear some of it onto the rune. Once it begins glowing, take a drink of the water.

Voldemort did as the spirit told him, and once the rune was glowing, he made a cup form his bleeding hand, and took a drink. Nothing happened at first, but after a moment, an utterly euphoric feeling slithered its way through his body, and he felt better than he had for many months. He also felt the presence fade from his mind.

Lord Voldemort rose to his feet and strode towards the exit, his gait gleeful. Once he reached the exit, he stole a look at the cloudless sky and took a deep breath. Time to do some murdering. He approached his minions and they took a knee. He called one of them to his side, and placed a bony finger onto the Dark Mark on the man's arm, and the unfortunate fellow hissed in pain as it began burning. Seconds later, his slaves began popping into existence all around him.

"It is a glorious night, my loyal followers," he said in his customary hiss. "For your Lord has regained his power! The world has grown complacent lately, and it is high time we showed Britain what we can do!"

Then, a person appeared with a 'pop' and immediately dropped to his knees. "My lord."

Lord Voldemort eyed the newcomer, furious that he had been interrupted. He quickly understood the pathetic man wouldn't have done so, if he hadn't thought it important.

"Speak."

"It's the Malfoys, my lord. They've been captured by the Order."

A livid hiss escaped Voldemort's lips at the news. Lucius and his son had been rising of late, almost ready to be taken back into his inner circle. Especially Draco. If he could properly nurture his cruelty and feed that sadistic streak...

He was silent for a while. It wasn't that he cared about the fate of the two men. It was simply the fact that no one took from him something of his, and expected to survive.

"We believe their headquarters are based somewhere in Islington, yes?" Voldemort hissed.

"Yes, my lord," Alecto Carrow confirmed. "But it's under the Fidelius. We have no way of knowing the precise location."

"We do not need the location, my dear Alecto," Voldemort hissed. "As soon as we begin our fun, the little rats will be drawn to us like flies to honey. We shall depart momentarily. Contact everyone, and be ready."

000000

"What kind of problem, Severus?" Minerva asked, her voice carefully controlled.

"The Dark Lord has regained his strength, and he's learned of Lucius' capture," Snape informed Minerva. He's coming here, to Islington. It won't be pretty, and it will almost certainly expose our world to the Muggles."

Hermione stared at Snape, horrified. The sudden exposure of Wizardkind to the mundane world could be catastrophic. Especially if it happened with a massive battle, right at the heart of Inner London. Would the Muggles bring in the army? Would it lead to a war between Muggles and wizards?

"Yes, Sir. I'll relay the message," someone said in a very professional voice. There was a peep of a cell phone button being pressed, and everyone turned to the source. A young blonde woman put her phone in her pocket and looked around the room. Wait. Wasn't she the woman who worked the night shift at the reception desk at the Ministry? The one who had been there the night Harry and the others had reclaimed it?

"Agent Jane Edgefield. Torchwood Institute," the woman introduced herself. "I have contacted my superiors and appraised them of the situation. They are taking appropriate measures to protect the Royal Family and the Prime Minister. And a different colleague has contacted the Aurors. The rest of the agents will be on hand to minimize the damage, and contain the fighting."

Minerva made her way to the woman, her legendary stern visage in place. "The Torchwood institute?"

Edgefield allowed a corner of her mouth to turn upwards. "Did you think the Muggle government would not keep an eye on a whole other world, existing right alongside their own? Sure, the Prime Minister knows, and the highest ranking members of the royal family, but I'm assuming you knew that."

Minerva nodded. "Many of us did, Miss Edgefield. There have been several members of the Royal family at Hogwarts, over the years."

"Wait, if the government knew about everything, then why haven't they done anything, before now?" Hermione asked. "And if they have means to affect large areas, as I imagine that's what you're referring to, then why now? Why wait? And how are you going to 'contain' the fighting?"

"They haven't acted, because having us wizards take care of our own problems is so much simpler than having the Muggles involved, and less dangerous. The more people know a secret, the harder it is to keep that secret, Miss Granger. Bringing in all the armed forces on this would be a disaster, for everyone. As for containing the fighting, we have our ways. Top secret, I'm afraid."

"But the war? People dying. Disappearing?" Hermione pressed agent Edgefield, who merely shrugged.

"Honestly, aside from that attack on Bullswick, the casualties and collateral damage haven't been that bad. Compared to a bad year of Muggle gang violence, this war we're fighting is nothing. It only seems that way, because there's so few of us." She smiled. "Harry did a wonderful job. Between his efforts and Riddle's condition, things are so much better than they were in the first war, and we were completely content with allowing him to take care of this."

"You speak as if you know him," Minerva said coldly.

Again, Edgefield smiled. "I sort of do. Torchwood has a file on him, and we've monitored what he has done since he returned after his disappearance, Professor McGonagall. We've even gotten our hands on his manifesto, and the government approves whole heartedly with what he's trying to do. Again, he was doing very well, and we were all rooting for him."

"Not that hearing about how much the Muggles love Potter isn't fascinating," Snape began with a sneer, "the Dark Lord may already be on the move."

"Alright," Minerva said firmly. "I would like to simply attack him at the Tor, but we might miss him, and lose precious minutes, returning to London."

"Aye," Moody agreed. "It's ruddy unpleasant, but I say we simply go out, and wait for them to appear. They will not all appear at the same place, so we'll do the same, and spread out in groups of six or seven."

"Remember your coins," Hermione said, and held hers up for everyone to see. "Just to remind you; I enhanced the charm on it so that it can be used as a 'beacon' for Apparition. Within a certain distance." Hermione blushed when she saw agent Edgefield clearly being impressed with her work.

"And we do have some defences in place," George said with a grin.

"Indeed we do, my less handsome brother," Fred affirmed. "There are some nasty surprises here and there around the neighbourhood, in case Riddle ever decided he wanted to discover our headquarters."

"Alright!" Minerva said firmly. "Let's go!"

000000

The Order rushed out of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Having already prepared for just such and eventuality, Order members had all been previously assigned a well known area of Islington, and so they various groups Apparated away. Arthur's Weasley's group disappeared to Diagon, just in case. Since their initial plan to attack the Tor had been derailed, the French wizards agreed to each leave with a group, bolstering the powers of each cell exponentially.

Minerva, Hermione and a few others arrived in an alley in Highbury, close to the home ground of a certain Premier League club. It was a well known place, popular with Brits, and tourists alike. It was just as well, that the season was out for the summer.

Minerva eyed her young people, and saw how tense they were. She couldn't blame them but she knew they'd do well when the call came. Her eye found Apolline Delacour, and she felt a little more secure. Fleur's mother was a very accomplished witch, after all.

"So where are the other groups?" the French woman asked as they walked slowly down the street in civilian clothing, to blend in.

"Upper Street, and around Almeida Theatre. Saddler's Wells Theatre and Royal Agricultural Hall, and a couple of others," Minerva replied.

Ron kept a vary eye, but had to admit there were rather few people about, considering it wasn't that late in the night, and it was summer. He assumed whatever agent Edgefield had planned with that Institute had been effective.

"Not many people about," he murmured.

"The Nargles probably took them," Luna said in her airy voice.

Ron looked at Luna sideways, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Be better... "Yeah. They probably did."

Hermione felt her mouth quirk in a tiny smile. Seemed Ron was serious in his efforts. She was about to try and catch his attention with a smile, when Neville suddenly sprang into action.

"Protego!" he shouted, and moved his wand in a curve, creating a shield which blocked a pair of Bombardas coming in at their flank from a nearby alley. The spells hit the shield, and Apolline retaliated with a combo of a wind charm, and a cutting curse. She got one attacker, but the other one managed to roll out of the way, and was soon joined by three others.

Despite their attackers being masked, Minerva quickly realized these wizards were not Hogwarts alumni. Their movements were different, and there was something about the way they moved their wands that suggested Durmstrang. Minerva gnashed her teeth. Durmstrang... A hive of bigotry and dark magic that didn't admit Muggleborn. To be fair, not all students shared the school's disdain for their Muggle brethren. Mr. Krum, for one.

Two more enemies appeared at the scene, and the battle was well and truly joined. Minerva rushed out to meet them, and successfully drove the group apart with a well placed bout of transfiguration; she pointed her wand at a pothole, and managed to transfigure it into a large bush, and the men had to move in different directions as the bush began growing in between them.

The fight didn't take long, and Ron understood why. "This was too easy."

"Oui," Apolline agreed. "It was."

"A distraction," Hermione said. "Diagon Alley!" she exclaimed.

Minerva shot Hermione a look of dismay. "Of course. Riddle may have suspected us having an ear in his group..."

000000

In another location, Severus Snape was coming to the same conclusion. "This really shouldn't be this easy, Moody!" he shouted as he deflected a bone hollowing hex, and retaliated with a fireball, which hit its mark. "These are amateurs!"

"Aye!" the grizzled old Auror said, and vaporized the head of his assailant. "I think we might want to go and have a look at Diagon!"

"Yes, I do believe that might be prudent," Molly Weasley growled as she conjured forth a bandage for a nasty looking cut in her upper left arm. "If Riddle was serious about this, then we would be hard pressed to deal with his force."

"Aye," Moody said, and limped over to Molly to help her with the bandage. "Here you are, Molly. Are you ready for more?"

Molly tightened her grip on her wand, and nodded. And just then, she felt the coin get warmer against her chest, where it hung on a leather cord. "The coin! It's Arthur!"

Both Snape, and Moody as well as the other three members of their group, felt their coins grow warm. It was indeed a distress call.

Molly took a steadying breath, and hoped dearly that they would arrive in time.

000000

Jean-Luc and Arthur appeared in Diagon Alley, and everything seemed normal, for that time of day. Not too many people about, but some. Arthur did notice an increased Auror presence and they seemed very alert, especially around the entrance to Knockturn Alley. He made his way to an Auror he knew, and they shook hands.

"All calm, Davies?" Arthur asked, who was a couple of years his junior. The other man gave a curt nod.

"Yes, so far. We got a message telling us to increase patrols tonight, as there were rumours of an impending att-"

Before the man finished his sentence, a painful scream could be heard a ways off, and a large group of people wearing black robes and masks, came pouring out of Knockturn, almost immediately overwhelming the Auros through sheer numbers.

"Davies!" Arthur shouted. "Deactivate the Apparition points! Our friends must get here!" It would also allow the enemy to Apparate in, but it was a necessary compromise. Davies rushed towards the nearest point, and began fiddling with the runes.

Jean-Luc and and his group rushed to the scene, and were at once attacked by opponents of poor skill. However, when their numbers were so great, skill wasn't as important, and to Jean-Luc's dismay, they were being slowly pushed back, despite him and the rest of the Order members doing quite a decent job of taking down enemy fighters.

Arthur was at that moment, locked in a pitched battle against two opponents, trying to protect Davies as the Auror worked the runes. Now, Arthur would be the first to admit that his skill and power as a wizard were very mediocre, but fortunately, the women he was fighting, were even less capable than he was. But, again, the enemy numbers were staggering. How had Riddle acquired such a force?

Then, Jean-Luc and Arthur heard the cracks of many wizards Apparating into the Alley, some distance up, close to the entrance to the Ministry, as well as Gringotts. He stole a look at Arthur, and discovered the older man had noticed this as well, and had clutched his coin in one hand.

This was the real attack, Jean-Luc realised. The presumed attack on Islington was a diversion. He redoubled his efforts, but still, they continued to be pushed back, and then he thought he could hear French accents in the incantations, and his felt a surge of hatred for that fool Du Plessis.

A few breaths later, the Order began arriving, with Arthur's wife being the first on the scene. As soon as she appeared, the sickly green jet of the Avada Kedavra came sailing her way, but the woman reacted with surprising speed for someone of her bulk. She dropped to the ground, but unfortunately, the curse hit an Auror standing behind her.

The stately Weasley matron growled in anger, and sent a flurry of surprisingly powerful spells towards the person who had attacked her, and at one point, the mask fell off, revealing the face of Marcus Flint.

"Flint," Molly said with a scowl. "I always knew you'd end up a stain on the world, much like your father."

Flint's face scrounched up in an ugly sneer. "My father is dead, you bitch."

Molly sent an uncharacteristically vicious smile his way. "I know. I'm the one who killed him, when he and his posse attacked Hogsemeade, back in the first war."

Flint let out a scream, and attacked Molly with wild abandon, but Molly was easily able to deal with his very big movements, and eventually, scored a hit into his abdomen with the Entrails-Expelling curse. Moody and Snape finished their duels, and quickly made their way to her.

"Remind me, never to act the gowl around you, lass!" Moody grumbled with a dark chuckle.

"Let's go!" Snape urged them on, towards the Ministry, but they were met with fierce resistance.

The Headmistress and her group arrived at that moment, in the middle of an ensemble of enemies. And were immediately attacked. Minerva and Apolline moved her wands with lightening speed, and managed to block almost all of the spells, but Neville caught a bludgeoning hex into his head, and went down in a heap.

Minerva noticed it, and growled in anger. She twirled her wand in her hands, and slammed it into the ground, making the floating swords appear. She sent them out and caught an enemy with each of the swords, and the ones she didn't kill, Apolline finished with a cutting curse.

"A clever spell, that," Apolline remarked, as Hermione revived Neville quickly.

"Aye." She turned to the younger members of her party. "But if any of you try that, I'll be sure to gie ye a skelpit lug! It drains ye somethin' fierce!"

And with that, they meant to set out toward the Ministry, when Ron saw his father in a tight spot. "Dad!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Apolline turned on the spot, as she knew her husband had been in Mr. Weasley's group. She turned to look at Minerva, who nodded.

"You two go! It will do us no good, if the bastards come up behind us!" she said firmly. "The rest of you, follow me! I'll take point, and you provide support and cover as you can!"

Hermione watched as Ron and Apolline fought their way towards their precious husband and father, respectively. She felt a stab of fright for her friend, but understood this was war, and they were all at great risk.

She turned her full attention to her own task, and readied her wand. She saw a pair of large bricks on the ground, and transfigured them to a pair of German Shepherds, who roamed around the group, and afforded them precious advantage when they would attack an enemy.

But there were just so many! She was certain she could not be the only one who wondered where Riddle had gotten his men. Hermione watched out for attacks from their right flank, while Luna would do her best to stagger any enemy who appeared on their left, and Hermione or Neville would deal with them. Minerva was a force of nature in the front, and Neville was doing a great job of shielding her from behind.

Fred and George, along with their girlfriends and agent Edgefield and commander Martin, were making good progress from the side of Gringotts, using their various inventions. Jane was extremely impressed with their work, and knew, that if they survived this, she would approach her superiors and recommend they be recruited to the Institute. And Alicia's and Angelina's prowess wasn't anything to scoff at, either.

They were coming around the entrance to the bank, when there was a massive explosion at the nondescript entrance to the Ministry of Magic, right next to Magical Menagerie. Fred and George watched in horror as Riddle strolled out of the ruined entrance with their brother Percy, and Augusta Longbottom floating behind him in a full body bind.

And around him, were the prisoners which had been kept down in the holding cells, ever since the liberation of the Ministry. And of course the Carrows, as well as Draco Malfoy, who was holding a bloodied Kingsley Shacklebolt up, his wand at the dark Auror's back. Riddle shot an explosive charm into the air, and the fighting slowed and halted as everyone turned their attention to the snakey bastard. And using the distraction, the enemy began circling around the defenders of Diagon.

Riddle pointed his wand at his throat. "Sonorus! Greetings, fellow wizards!" Riddle hissed, his voice carrying around the Alley. "Tonight, you have witnessed the might of Lord Voldemort, and his army! It was a folly to think you could stand against the Dark Lord, and so it has proven!"

Riddle gazed imperiously around the gathering, his red eyes glowing gleefully. It was all going according to plan. A well placed agent within the Ministry had allowed his entry, and since most of the Aurors were out patrolling, his victory was easy. They were all so weak! And the spirit had seemed worried!

He slowly floated Percy around to his front, and was disappointed when he didn't see any sign of fear in the eyes of the blood traitor. Instead, there was defiance, and anger. Lord Voldemort was very displeased with uppity young man, so he casually whispered the incantation to release the body bind, and Percy fell to the ground.

"Crucio!" He held the curse for a while, relishing the painful screams, which were always music to his , he let up.

"This is what happens to those who are foolish enough to stand against the mighty Voldemort!"

An enraged howl could be heard, and the Weasleys made their way towards the entrance. Riddle turned lazily towards them as they appeared, and gazed upon the scene.

"Percy!" Molly screamed, and meant to run to him, but Arthur stopped her.

"Ah. The mother of the Weasley brood," Riddle began with a disgusting smile. "Of such fine stock! The Prewetts were proper wizards. Such a sad fate, that they lowered themselves to the Weasleys."

The tip of Molly's wand lit up. "You will not talk about my family, you filthy animal!" the Weasley matron seethed.

Riddle smiled, and casually waved his wand at Percy again, who screamed as the soul shattering pain of the torture curse coarsed through him, again.

"Percy!" Molly wailed again, and Riddle stopped.

"Do I have you attention?" Riddle hissed. "Good. Britain has grown weak. The Muggle blood has thinned out our heritage to sickening levels, and must be purged ruthlessly! And I, Lord Voldemort shall purge our world through fire!"

As Riddle began spouting his insane rhetoric, Minerva decided she had heard enough. She stole a glance at Molly, and dearly hoped she would forgive her, for putting her son in even greater danger. Minerva knew they were in deep trouble, because they had allowed the enemy to surround them, but the only way for any of them to survive, was to try and break out of the circle.

She took a deep breath, but before she managed to bring her wand to bear, a pair of curses came flying in towards Riddle, from opposite directions. She saw Mr. Longbottom some ways ahead of her, brandishing his wand, and heard Ron Weasley's voice. Minerva smiled viciously. Brave lads!

Riddle easily deflected the spells, but the attack was enough to break the spell, so to speak, and the battle was on again. The Dark Lord let out an enraged scream. This was not the way it was supposed to be! People were supposed to shiver in fear, at the very mention of his name, and his presence should be enough to have them wet themselves! He sent a massive fireball towards Ron, not caring how many of his own men he killed, just so long as he managed to fry that pesky little fly.

The fireball exploded on impact, killing several enemies, and Aurors, but Ron had been ready for it, and so had Jean-Luc, who froze the flame with a freezing spell, before they reached them.

On the other and, Minerva's group exploded into action, and sent spell after spell towards Riddle, who managed to deflect them all with annoying ease. Minerva could see the spells coming at them from the circle of Death Eaters, and realised, that if they didn't break that wall, they would be eviscerated. But it was difficult to do in such a tightly packed space, and she was unwilling to risk killing any of her own. She could be ruthless, but she had her limits.

And that was when the doors of Gringotts opened, and the goblins came rushing out, spears and axes at the ready. At the head of the force, was manager LeChuck, riding some sort of lizard, and a mighty war axe in his hand.

"Get them!" LeChuck shouted at his men, and they fell upon the unprepared Death Eaters.

Again, Voldemort was left fuming. This was completely unexpected! The goblins had never interfered in the affairs of wizardkind. So long as they received gold into the vaults of their bank, they were happy, and even he, Lord Voldemort had understood their importance, and had fully intended to maintain Gringotts. At first. Then, once his regime had gained proper financial structure, he would have purged his world of those ugly little critters.

"You dare attack me!" Voldemort screamed. "I will send your filthy race back into the ground, LeChuck!" he went on, and began sending curses toward the bank manager while walking to meet him. The goblin blocked them all with his magic resistant, silverite shield.

"Yes, we dare! It was time we did our bit, to end this silly war of yours, Riddle. It's bad for business!"

The only answer from Voldemort was a flurry of attacks.

Minerva watched as Draco Malfoy stuck his wand into Kingsley's back, and her friend's belly exploded as the Bombarda ravaged his body. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she burst forth with a scream, and sent a series of spells towards the younger Malfoy, the sadistic part of her mind, urging her on to bag herself a brace of Malfoys.

Kingsley had been a good friend for many years, and to see him die in such a way, and at the hands of a third rate wizard like Draco Malfoy was vomit inducing. She would have vengeance. She was confronted by several of the foreign agents, but she dealt with them easily enough.

Eventually, she found herself facing the despicable brat, who had hoisted Percy onto his feet, and was holding his wand to the redhead's throat. "I see you move, and I'll cut his head off!"

Minerva stood there, and saw Molly and Arthur out of the corner of her eye. If they hadn't been there, she might have been tempted to take the chance of being faster than Malfoy, but she couldn't with them watching.

In the end, Percy himself took matters into his own hands, he stared at his parents. "Do it! Do not let him get away!"

"Percy, don't!" Molly screamed.

Percy began struggling against Malfoy, who knew he couldn't hold him, and was about to cut the throat of his hostage, when he felt some kind of animal jump onto his back, and tear into him with its claws.

Hermione watched in morbid satisfaction, as her German Shepherds completely mauled Malfoy, and was kind of 'happy' that she was the one who ended the spoiled little boy's life. He deserved nothing more.

Once Molly and Arthur had reached their son and Augusta, who had lost consciousness, Hermione turned her attention towards Riddle. She surveyed the fight, and could see Riddle was beginning to panic, once he realised his forces were being routed. He would no doubt try and run. She grabbed her coin, and sent a message to several of her friends, telling them to prepare an anti Apparition charm. It was time they finished this.

Voldemort was in trouble. The arrival of the goblins on the scene had thrown everything into chaos at first, but soon, the forces of good were rounding up groups of enemies. Voldemort saw this, and redoubled his efforts to take down LeChuck, but then he was attacked from all sides. He tried Apparating away, but one of his enemies had obviously set up an anti Apparition charm.

"No way to run, you coward," LeChuck growled.

Voldemort watched as the Auror cripple and that sad excuse of a Headmistress made their way towards them, as well as that filthy Mudblood of Potter's. This was inconceivable! He was Lord Voldemort! The greatest wizard of the century! He would not be defeated by this rabble!

"You're done, Riddle," Moody growled, and the tip of his wand lit up.

"Aye," Minerva agreed, and her wand lit up as well.

"There's no place for people like you, in the world Harry wants to create, Riddle," Hermione said, her voice strong and steady.

Despite himself, Voldemort smiled an ugly smile. "Ah, but he won't be around to see it, now will he? The boy is dead!"

To his surprise, the Mudblood just laughed. "Harry won't let something like death stop him from coming back to us," she said, and interlaced her fingers with Minerva's, who looked at her former pupil with pride.

"Harry has made a habit out of doing the impossible, Riddle," Minerva said joyfully. "He will return, stronger than ever."

Voldemort screamed in frustration, and sent the killing curse towards Minerva, but she summoned a slab of stone to intercept the spell. The stone exploded, and Minerva sent the hail towards Riddle, who transfigured them to snowflakes. He hated to admit it, but there was no way out of this. He would have to try again after a few years.

He let his wand fall to the ground, and held his hands to the sides. "It seems I've been defeated," he hissed. "I submit myself to the Wizangamot for judgement." The words sounded as if they had been pulled from his mouth with glowing tongs.

"I don't think we'll need to trouble the Wizengamot with this, Riddle," Moody said, and cut Riddle's wand apart with a well placed Diffindo. And another bludgeoning spell to the back of the knees, sent Riddle down onto those same knees.

Voldemort stared. Surely not. "Your laws compel-"

"These are extreme circumstances," came the firm voice of one Augusta Longbottom, who made her way towards them, Neville supporting her.

She arrived, and stared down her nose at the filthy creature. "I think we will not be taking any chances here. As Chief Warlock, and in front of all these witnesses, I hereby sentence you to death by decapitation, to be carried out immediately."

Riddle stared. "You cannot be-"

"Shut up!" Hermione growled, and her wand lit up. "You and yours kill anyone who stand in your way. And now you think we cannot do the same? You delight in killing and raping and torturing Muggles, because you think they're beneath you!"

Voldemort sent a hateful glare the Mudblood's way. "So, who of you pathetic weaklings will do the deed?"

Minerva sent Riddle a cruel smile. "LeChuck! I assume your axe is well sharpened?"

"Always, Headmistress!" came the grumbling reply.

Riddle's eyes widened in horror. "No! I demand a wizard's death! I will not be slain by this disgusting creature!"

Moody waved his wand, and Riddle was locked in a full body bind. "You deserve no respect, Riddle, and you cannot make any demands. LeChuck!"

The large goblin flashed the grizzled Auror a toothy grin, which made him look even less pleasant that usual. He made his way towards Riddle, and raised the axe.

"You talk too much," he growled, and down the axe went, separating the head from the body, and it rolled away, towards Moody, who stepped on it, to keep it from going too far. He released Riddle from the bind, and the corpse fell onto the ground, the blood spurting from the wound, running between the cobbles of the street.

LeChuck let out a mighty roar, and was soon joined by the rest of those assembled. It was finally over. Voldemort was dead, and the world was free!

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In a decadent palace, a wicked witch waved her hand over the scrying pool, making the image of a dying Dark Lord disappear. She had known his foolish pride and arrogance would lead to his downfall, and it went all according to plan. She watched with a satisfied smile as a rune on the floor began glowing an angry red. That last pitched battle had been the last straw. Now, there was only one rune left.

Almost ready. Now, all she needed to do, was destroy that silly summit at Crossroad Keep, and the world would be consumed in an ocean of fire when her lord came through. She made her way to her throne and sat down. She clapped her hands together, and a number of servants came rushing into the hall.

"You know your assignments. Now go!"

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So! Voldemort's dead! Is this the last we will see of him? I wonder...

I hope this was worth the wait. Be safe!