A/N: Yay, summer break is finally here! And, seeing as how my friends are all grounded, I'm going to have a lot of free time. Goody for everybody!

-----CHAPTER THIRTEEN -----

Oi, Tom Riddle? Where are you? I'm ba-ack!"

Harry groaned, and turned around from the maps he had been poring over; "Ah, Ammil McNay, I wondered when you would be returning to our ranks." His voice resonated around the room, though quiet and raspy and not his own.

"Yeah, I was in a bit of a spot, but I'm out now!"

"... Something is different about you, Ammil..."

"Oh well, you know how the council is! They think that they can wipe my mind, but no, I've got goodies of information for you!"

/He's finally gone completely mad/ Harry thought, but never the less smirked; "Oh, and what would information that be?"

McNay finally stepped out of the shadows. His hair was jet black and hanging around his face. He was obviously both sun and food deprived. His skin was pale and his cheek bones were evident. His almost black eyes seemed to glitter with insanity. His robes were black as well, boots slightly muddied like the rim of his coat. His gloves were torn, as if he'd been wrestling something thorny. The man was handsome yes, though very under-weight, but the power that radiated from him over-rode than and even had Harry on guard.

McNay walked over, and sat down in a chair by the fire. They were in a study, and Harry turned fully to face the traitor elf; "Well?" Harry asked, now annoyed by the McNay's silence.

"Oh," McNay said, watching as Nigeni [a/n: that's how you spell it, right?], Harry's snake, slithered around him dangerously. McNay kicked out at her, and she hissed before snaking over to Harry; "Ah yes, council's gone and hidden me sis, but I have an idea on where she is."

"And tell me, Ammil, why does your sibling play a role in all of this?" Harry idly stroked Nigeni's head as the snake slithered up the table leg and then to his side.

"Oh, ever heard of the 'Dark Torch of Anglithae?" McNay asked, looking up at Harry with those eyes. They glittered with power, Harry realized, angry, bloodthirsty power...

"In fairy tales," Harry replied curtly.

McNay managed a quiet laugh; "Ah, but this fairy tale is more than just a mere legend," he said, grinning wickedly; "Care to hear?"

Harry sighed; "If it will help with my cause," he said finally. Harry walked over, and took a seat opposite of the elf, Nigeni wrapped around his arm. The snake slithered down, and curled up on the hearth.

McNay cleared his voice; "A long time ago..."

/Oh, here we go/ Harry moaned in thought, settling into his chair.

"The Council of Gengedelea [Gin-jeh-del-ay] came upon startling revelations that the wizarding race would soon be thrown into the seventh greatest battle..."

"The Battle of the Nine Score," Harry mused, stroking his chin in thought.

McNay nodded before continuing; "In an effort to aid the light against the dark, the Gengedelea Elves created a torch... A torch that, when lit, could glow and radiate for an era, offering power to the Light, while at the same time weakening the defenses of the Dark. Sadly though, this torch was no item or possession, but a living being... an elf, named Anglithae... Anglithae was oh, nearly two-hundred years old, so he knew what the Council asked of him.

"I don't know what kind of ritual took place, but in the end, Anglithae's soul was taken from his body, and placed into a stone-"

"What a tragic end," Harry muttered with an icy chuckle.

McNay nodded; "Yes, but the stone was shattered in the battle. The Torch light gleamed so brightly, every darkened spirit was vanquished, every lightened soul was reborn. And like that-" the elf snapped his fingers "- The Torch was gone, back into the blood of Anglithae's descendents. Anglithae had three wives, mind you, and nearly twenty children. And when the light of the Torch never rose again, and the children grew old and had children of their own, the thought that it was still around all but diminished as the war upon my race escalated."

Harry nodded; "And, this Torch," he said; "The Soul Beacon, as I remember it being called..." Harry stroked his chin again in thought; "You believe it is in your sister?"

McNay nodded; "She holds power no mere Halfling should possess. She can feel things she is not meant to sense. She can bond with a person, something she is not supposed to do with her tainted blood..." he added darkly, glaring at the flames.

Harry chuckled; "Glad you see my perspective," he said; "Now, is she a large threat? Does she even know?"

"Only I, my dead father and step mother, and my damned grandfather have read the signs," McNay said; "And nay, she knows not."

"Glad you are talking sensibly and soberly," Harry remarked, rising.

"The glow of freedom has worn off," McNay said distantly, as if to himself; "When I can, I'll begin the search and end this before she learns of it..."

Harry nodded as she rose; "Tell me, Ammil," he said as he moved over to a shelf; "Can normal Wizarding wards protect her?"

"Only a few," McNay mused; "Those of old, very ancient spells..." he paused; "But nay, not many..."

Harry nodded as he removed a dust covered small chest from the second to highest shelves, and set it down on the table. With a wave of his hand the dust was gone, revealing a finely carved mahogany chest with engravings along the lid. The engravings were mostly dragons, a few wolves, and a single raven in the center. Ivy was entangling it, and it was a carving frozen in a terrified struggle.

Curious, McNay rose; "What is that, Riddle?" he asked.

Harry did not lash out at McNay like he would have killed others for referring to his real name. McNay was an associate, not a follower. He had taken the mark as a deal, not as a vow of servitude. They saw the same light and shared the same views. It was a very good partnership Harry had to admit, though McNay did not have a cult of worthy followers like he did.

Harry merely smirked as a reply, though, and opened the chest. He lifted the lid up, and McNay's breath hitched in fearful surprise before taking a step back. Harry pulled out a dagger, the blade black as night, mixing with the hilt perfectly. The only way to tell blade from hilt apart was the crimson ruby in the center. Harry turned and took the sheath, then turned to see McNay backing away towards the fire.

"Ammil, it will not harm you," Harry said.

"I can take care of things by my own means," McNay said, his sure tone defying the look in his eyes.

"Then you know what this is," Harry mused, sheathing the dagger.

McNay nodded; "It brought a downfall to the Gengedelea," he said hoarsely; "I thought it was destroyed."

"Well, apparently not," Harry mused, turning the weapon around in his hands and grinning evilly; "Use it. It will let those hiding know. And, if you could, take out several others with it. This blade craves for blood, like the dragon it was forged from."

"The damn dragon was slain as well, if you remember the tales," McNay said coolly, his eyes icy over with anger; "I refuse to touch that blade," he crossed his arms and turned towards the fire.

"Suit yourself," Harry said; "I will use it."

McNay turned his head to look at him, slowly comin around; "What?" he asked, eyes widening slightly.

Harry nodded; "Yes, if you cannot kill with it, then I will find a way-"

"You can kill anyone with anything," McNay scoffed; "But why that blade?"

Harry grinned evilly again; "Because it will leave lasting impressions, seeing as how the dragon was killed by the Torch itself, and it craves for revenge..."

McNay began to laugh, and Harry found himself chuckling maliciously...

With a cry of pain, Harry jolted from his bed, landing on the floor with his hands clasped around his forehead. His scar burned so badly he thought blood would pour from it at any moment and cause his death. Harry panted from lack of breath, the sickening feeling of wicked pleasure causing him to nearly vomit. Bile came up his throat, and Harry managed to stand and make his way to the door before collapsing in pain again. Breathing raggedly, Harry got up, and made his way to the bathroom. He finally made it, went to the nearest stall, and hurled for all his worth.

The pain in his scar finally receded, and Harry looked up from the toilet bowl after three heaves. His had a massive headache. Struggling to his feet again, he trudged over to the sink and washed himself off. Thankfully, no T- shirt meant no nasty mess. As Harry cleaned himself up, he couldn't help but shiver from the dream. It had happened again, he had become one with Voldermort just long enough. And he now knew something he feared Brenna did not.

Over the past months, Harry's scar had only hurt on one occasion, when the traitor Death Eater, Karkaroff, was apprehended. He had had a nightmare of Voldermort storming around a residence, cursing and shouting and hexing everything that moved or didn't, it didn't matter to the Dark Lord. And of course his scar bothered him on random occasions, but he was getting control over it. But this occurrence, he actually got sick...

And the feeling was still there. Voldermort was malicious. And McNay was sick. He was willing to kill a blood relative. And how Voldermort had thought about their "partnership"... McNay had taken the Mark when Voldermort first put it on his own flesh.

Harry made his mind up then and there. Going back to the dorm, he hurriedly put on a pair of pants and a shirt, and then took his wand, the Marauder's Map, and his invisibility cloak. Tucking his wand behind his waste band and putting the map in his pocket, he then draped the cloak over him. Harry then made his way down the stairs, pausing only to catch his breath. He was about to hurl again, but fought the feeling down and continued.

Harry checked Brenna room, pulling the cloak from his head to look at the raven plague; "Hey, raven!" Harry hissed.

The raven came to life, head coming free from the plague and gazing at Harry. Its eyes were now vibrant, seemingly glittering with life, rubies, shining in the torchlight; "What say ye, Master Potter?" it asked.

Harry stared at the 3D head for a moment, then continued; "Is Brenna okay?" he asked.

The plague eyed him; "Aye, she sleeps," he said after a pause; "A message ye must give her?"

Harry shook his head; "No," he said, donning the cloak to cover him again.

The plague eyed the now vacant spot, then chuckled; "As ye be, Master Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes, continued down the steps, went through the common room, then out through the Portrait hole. The Fat Lady was startled to see no one come from the hole, but figured as much when she heard Harry cough; "Be careful, who ever you are," she said quietly.

Harry chanced a look at the portrait, then continued going. He stopped, leaned against the wall, and checked the Map. Good, Harry thought, Filch is on the first floor... Folding the map up again, Harry continued until he reached a familiar stone gargoyle. Whispering the password ["chocolate covered mice"], the gargoyle revealed the staircase, and Harry rode it to the top. He sighed, and then opened the door.

Harry was lucky he had worn the cloak, because Dumbledore and Anestrothea were arguing loudly. Well, Anestrothea was the loud one. Dumbledore was just trying to keep calm. Harry came in and shut the door quickly, and neither noticed.

"Anestrothea, please," Dumbledore said, "Calm down! I am aware of the circumstances as well, and-"

"Calm down?! Calm down?!" Anestrothea said, getting up and taking his cane in his hand; "Albus, do you not understand the seriousness of this? Ammil has escaped! He killed three wizards and an elf on his way to freedom! As we speak he's coming here for my granddaughter!"

"No, he's not yet..."

Albus and Anestrothea looked to the door just in time to see Harry take the Invisibility Cloak off, and sling it over his shoulder; "Professor, I came to tell you something," he said, "But, I suppose it would help Mister Anestrothea as well..."

"Come, Harry, sit," Dumbledore said, waving him over; "You as well, Anestrothea, please do calm down."

Anestrothea and Harry sat down; "What did you wish to tell me?" Dumbledore asked, looking at Harry intently. The familiar twinkle had nearly gone from his eyes though he still held that warm gaze; "You must have had another vision, given the late hours... am I correct?"

Harry nodded; "Professor, McNay's escaped and he was talking to Voldermort," Anestrothea stiffened at both names; "And they were talking about how Brenna's a reincarnation of some Torch-!"

"The Dark Torch of Anglithae?" Anestrothea suddenly asked; "Come on, out with it, Harry!"

"Yes!" Harry said, slightly taken aback; "And then, Voldermort was going on about just killing Brenna to solve the problems that she'd bring to their 'cause'!"

"Oh no," Anestrothea moaned, getting up, cane in hand; "No, no, no!" he walked over to the nearest window, his face going pale and gaze now ashen. He stroked his beard, then looked to Harry; "My Boy, did McNay recall a tale, around the seventh battle?"

Harry nodded, and Dumbledore sighed; "And I thought it was only in fairy tales," he mused, taking his spectacles off and cleaning them with the hem of his robe sleeve.

"No, no this is not good," Anestrothea moaned; "Harry... did Ammil know where Brenna was?"

"He said 'he had an idea'," Harry said, "Sir, does Brenna even know this?"

Anestrothea shook his head and turned to stare outside; "No, she does not," he said gravely; "We never thought. Amadeus had a vague idea, and Brenna's mother, Sonya, based her assumptions on instinct. We thought it was just a phase, something where her abilities would bloom, then dull down again. It's been happening a lot though, lately, with all the attacks!" he said as he sighed, rubbing his eyes; "I should have come to the conclusions earlier, how could I have been so stupid?"

"Anestrothea, though it is not exactly my place as to be saying," Dumbledore said, his tone hinting morose; "But... if memory serves... Anglithae was... killed, was he not?"

Harry's mind froze... killed? No, that didn't mean...

"I know what happened, Albus," Anestrothea said in a strained tone, glancing at the wizard before looking out the window again; "My Brenna will not die..."

"She's been having headaches," Harry suddenly blurted out, getting up; "And she can't get her spells out properly sometimes. She's fumbling, she's sensitive to everything around her, she can't go near the dungeons any more for obvious reasons, and then she's getting anxiety attacks!"

"Perhaps she needs to take leave for a time, until she can recuperate," Dumbledore said.

"Albus, this is not just some common magical malady," Anestrothea said gravely. When he turned around, he suddenly looked ragged and tired; "I am too old for this," he groaned as he sat in his seat again; "Albus, we must keep an eye on her. If Brenna were to collapse, or start sending waves of power," his voice trailed off as he shook his head and wearily rubbed his eyes again.

"Ron, Hermione, and I know Brenna better than anyone else who's been here," Harry said; "We've been watching out for her, like she has us. Don't worry, sir, we'll keep an eye on her."

"She mustn't know," Anestrothea said, "She cannot know. Harry, you cannot tell her! If Brenna were to find out, she would collapse. She cannot know yet..." he finished with a sigh, rising again; "The Council calls," he said after a moment of silence; "I must alert them that indeed, Brenna is indeed the ame ne'balsneir. Albus," he looked at the wizard; "Watch her for me," and with that, Anestrothea closed his eyes, gripped his cane, and sighed. The butt of the cane came crashing down onto the stone floor, and like a mist blown by wind, Anestrothea was gone.

Harry and Dumbledore sat there in silence, staring at the place where Anestrothea had been moments before.

"Professor," Harry finally managed; "What did he call Brenna again?"

"Ame ne'balsneir," Dumbledore replied sullenly; "One ending-light."

"... You speak Ancientriss?"

Dumbledore sighed wearily; "Sadly, Harry, I only know that phrase, and two others. The two in question, well, they are best not repeated in these circumstances. Now, I suppose you had best return to Griffindor Tower, and check on Brenna."

Harry nodded, and wrapped the invisibility cloak over him again; "How can I not tell her, Professor?" he asked, only his head and hands visible; "Brenna would never forgive me if she found out I was keeping –this- from her."

"Sadly, Harry, I must insist that you do," Dumbledore said, "It is for her own safety."

Harry nodded, became fully clothed under the cloak, and departed, mind swimming in a pool of unwanted thoughts.

---

Harry reentered the Griffindor Common Room nearly thirty minutes later, and saw Hermione and Ron both waiting for him. They jumped from their place on the couch when he took the Cloak off, and rushed him.

"Harry, where'n the hell have you been?" Ron nearly shouted; "When I got up and saw your bed was empty I freaked!"

"What were you thinking, anyway?" Hermione asked; "Harry, what if you got into trouble? And I don't mean getting caught by Filch-!"

"Guys, will you just be quiet?" Harry said loudly when they continued, walking over and plopping down in a chair by the fire. He glanced up at the clock. It was still too early for anyone to be up and about.

"Harry," Hermione said when she saw the look in his eyes. The emerald pools were almost void in a mixture of thought and regret; "What's wrong?"

"Yeah, mate, what's eating you?" Ron asked as the two moved and sat down as well; "Come on, you can tell us anything."

Harry looked around, before sighing and looking at the fire again; "It's about Brenna," he said quietly.

"Oi, troubles in paradise?" Ron asked with a half-hearted laugh. But when Harry seemed unfazed, he stopped.

"For her," Harry muttered, looking down.

"What about her?" Hermione asked, shooting Ron a look.

And so Harry told them, about his dream, about McNay, The Dark Torch, everything. Harry would constantly pause, to listen and look to see if Brenna or anyone else would happen to be eavesdropping.

"...And she can't know," Harry finished, sighing and looking away from his friends.

Ron and Hermione sat in silence, until Ron spoke; "That's unfair," he said, "It's about her, for cryin' out loud! She deserves to know!"

"No, she can't!" Hermione suddenly said, facing him; "If she did, and her mind couldn't handle it, her powers might... explode!" she said, exaggerating by moving her hands in the shape of a mushroom cloud; "I completely side with Dumbledore on this, he's right. Brenna's in a state as it is, anyway! If we told her something like this, oh gods know what could happen!" she got up, and said; "I think I'm going to go to bed. Harry... Harry?" she looked around.

Harry had departed, leaving the Invisibility Cloak behind. Ron got up, walked over, and took it, then he turned to Hermione; "I take it he's gone to bed," he said flatly.

Hermione nodded, walking over to the stairs with Ron; "Well... good night, Ron," she said, then she went up to her dorm.

Ron watched her, then walked up to his dorm room. He entered quietly, inwardly sighing as he saw Neville, Dean, and Seamus were all still fast asleep. Harry though, was standing at the window, arms crossed and eyes closed with his brow slightly furrowed in thought. Ron sighed aloud this time, quietly walking over and dumping the Invisibility Cloak on Harry's bed. He then took his slippers and climbed into his own bed. He watched Harry in his depressing state, before rolling over and finally slipping into the realms of a fitful slumber.

---

Harry couldn't understand why Brenna didn't deserve to know. Yes, he knew she would freak, that was Brenna. She would no matter how she found out. Harry was more worried about if she found out through an outside source, though... what would happen between them? Brenna found it hard to trust people, and though she had been kind to Harry when they first met, he knew that it took a month for a wall to come down finally and allow him into her inner circle where so few dwelled near her heart.

She confided to him on one occurrence that she only trusted the Trio and Dumbledore, and no one else. Harry found it hard at first to see why she didn't trust many people, but then her past wasn't all about daisies and the magical land of teddy bears and gumdrops.

Harry sighed. It was just no use. His life was falling back into that pattern he thought he had gotten out of, that routine appearance of a secret, mystery, and sadness. Sadness didn't cover it. He felt for Brenna, for everyone. And it was all Voldermort's fault. Well, for Harry's ordeals, for Brenna, it was her brother...

-Her own brother-, Harry thought, shaking his head and clenching his fists. He opened his eyes and stared outside. –I thought my family was dysfunctional, at least they wouldn't go to such lengths like trying to kill me-. Harry sighed. –I won't let him touch Brenna... no, he won't take away the one I care for most... no, I'll even go to kill him over Voldermort... that bastard...-

-/Bastard indeed/-

Harry spun around. He had heard that, but it wasn't a natural voice. I'm losing it, he thought, looking around as he took his wand.

-/By de window, Mister Potter.../-

Harry spun back around, glancing around the frame of the glass before the ledge. Outside, was a bird, a... raven?

How the hell...? Harry thought fearfully, stepping back.

-/Eet is me, Kasimir/- the voice filled his head, and Harry stared at the bird. It was eyeing him, the glittering eyes alive like before. Now, when Harry peered closer, he saw the crimson tainted feathers.

Um... Harry thought.

-/I can here you, eet is telah-pathy/-

...What do you want?

-/Brenna, how does she fair?/-

Fine...

-/Very unlikely... does she know ov her heritage?/-

Harry dropped to his knees, and went to the window. He opened it, causing Kasimir to flutter away briefly before perching again.

"How do you know?" Harry whispered fiercely, looking around to make sure he was not overheard.

Kasimir tried to peer over Harry's shoulder, before cocking his head to the side and eyeing Harry critically. -/I have alvays known, Mister Potter. I vonce overheard a conversation between Anestrothea and McNay a long, long time ago.../-

Harry's blood began to boil in anger at the name; "Don't bring him into this," he whispered warningly.

Kasimir took a step back. -/So sorry/- he replied. -/I deed not know you knew... Anyvay, do you t'ink you should tell her?/-

"Everyone says 'don't'," Harry said quietly, leaning against the wall and facing the raven-vampire; "But... I'm not sure..."

-/Eet is not fair, dat she does not know... but trust my word/- Kasimir paused. -/She vill not take eet vell at all. T'ings could happen to her. Do not risk Brenna's safety/-

"Why the sudden interest, anyway?" Harry asked

Kasimir sighed, and shook his head. -/Vhen you have lived as long as I, eet is de simple t'ings dat keep you going. Brenna showed me somet'ing I had not seen since my wife showed me... Trust/- he fluttered his wings, and cawed as he looked around. -/Dere is a cat vatching me, I must depart/-. He looked at Harry. -/Make sure she is happy, Harry. Dat is all Brenna wants/-

Before Harry got the chance, Kasimir cawed again and flew away.

Harry watched Kasimir fly off. After three weeks, the vampire just shows up, expresses his concern and gives solemn advice, then leaves. Harry smiled as he closed the window and stood, walking over to his bed and climbing in. he pulled the covers to his chin, rolling over and closing his eyes. It still didn't save him from nightmares of his friends' deaths and Brenna's life he invisioned.

---

A/N: there, Mary Sue my ass, that's Brenna's reason of existence, so live with it. Hah, didn't expect that though, did you? Hmm, what shall happen next? I doubt I shall know, for my muse craves reviews... (thunder-rhapsody)

Tanslations:

Ame ne'balsneir [ahm-eh-neh-bail-sneer]: Sole[only one] Ending Light

Gengedelea [Gin-jeh-del-ay]: Council of the Wise