Chapter Eighteen.

An explosion split the night with such force that Harry could feel it deep in his bones, Harry spun at the sound. Green eyes racked the forest, but the night sky and thick canopy hid everything from view.

It had seemed to have come from the direction of the school, but he could not be sure.

He looked to Belor for answers, but the Dwarf merely stared hard at the tree line at the edge of his conjured light.

Moving towards him, Harry leaned in to whisper in the Dwarf ear. "What was that?"

Belor was silent as he continued to stare into the trees. "I can't see a damn thing in these trees!" He hissed as he and his guards continued to look for any sign of trouble.

The sound of more explosions was quickly followed by the clamour of battle as the flash of spell light lit the sky, Belor grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him back in the direction that they had come.

"We'll come back in the mornin' when there's daylight. I don't know what's happenin' out here, but it's not safe to stay out any longer."

Without another word, Harry found himself being frog-marched back towards the Castle.

He leaned back into the Dwarf as he tried to fight the pushing hand. "Belor, wait! Whatever is out there seems to be coming from the school, if we go back we're heading straight towards it."

The Dwarf did not slow in the slightest, and Harry found his eyes lingering on the wickedly sharp crescent of the axe in his hand. He had not even seen the Dwarf draw the blade, yet seeing the bare steel in his hand brought a measure of comfort to him. "I know lad, but I'm not leavin' a potential threat at my back when headin' into this accursed forest."

The Dwarves set a quick pace and soon his spell light revealed open ground before them, the lights of the Castle were visible high upon its rocky perch. Yet for once Harry found the normally breathtaking sights of the castle the furthest thing from his mind, what drew everyone's attention was the battle going on before them.

Harry had no words to describe it, the amount of Magic being thrown about was as awe-inspiring as it was terrifying. He watched as two hovering figures continued a seemingly unceasing onslaught of spells upon the thirteen figures upon the ground, many of whom were lying either broken or dead where they had fallen. He thought he recognised the once elegantly pinned hair that Amerytha had worn only a few short hours ago, now it hung in a loose curtain of curls about her head as she slowly descended to the grass-covered ground beneath her.

What looked like a spear of light formed in her hand as he hurled it at a mass of shadows that he had not noticed was making its way in their direction. He slapped a hand to his scar as a searing pain caused his legs to wobble and he nearly fell if Belor had not been there to hold him steady, as the spear of light pinned the shadows to the ground.

A scream rent the air, and Harry clapped his hands over his ears as the unearthly hissing shriek bore down on him.

It remained pinned like a wild beast as it writhed in agony before the light was suddenly suffused by the shadows, and he watched as a tall figure formed from the mass of shadows and began to fight back in earnest.

The ring about his finger had grown searingly hot, almost as if it was matching the pain that had run through his scar but it was quickly cooling and with it, the pain fled until it was as if it had never been there, to begin with.

Harry watched as the shadow man raised one hand and he saw a bolt of sickly green light shoot forth. He felt a strange sense of familiarity as he watched the vile light hurtle towards Amerytha with a shrieking howl, and he recalled with a start the jet of green light that had haunted his dreams for as long as he could remember.

The malice behind the spell was horrifying, and he could sense its killing intent from several hundred metres away.

The sickly radiance of it cast a ghastly glow as it sped across the ground, yet he did not need to fear as Amerytha merely stepped to the side allowing the spell to careen past and returned fire with another lance of light.

The Shade was prepared now and merely flicked its hand sending the spell flying to the side and Harry felt his heart sink as it came hurtling in their direction.

It moved so fast he barely had time to do more than scream out a warning, but he need not have worried as the guards at the fore of their group overlapped their shields with practised movements in time to meet the spell. It connected with a loud ringing gong, and Harry watched as the dwarven warriors tensed against the might of the defeated magic.

To Harry's amazement, he saw the fiery glow of runes alight upon their shields as the Dwarves separated, but they seemed to have drawn the attention of everyone on the battlefield as all eyes turned to stare at them.

Belor, seizing upon the opportunity, gave a great cry as he ordered his men to attack. Yet he held back long enough to order one of his guards to see Harry safely to the school.

To his horror, he watched as the shadow raised its ethereal hands and with sickening disjointed movements those dead or wounded upon the floor climbed back to their feet.

The dwarves descended upon them like an avalanche of swinging blades and battering shields but it was quickly apparent to all that they were having little effect.

For every member of the Thirteen that fell under a blade of stamping studded boot, the Shade had only to raise its arms for them to climb back to their feet.

Yet Harry felt a cold tingle crawl down his spine and the Shade had yet to remove its fiery gaze from him.

Despite having no features Harry got the distinctive feel of a savage glee, in his mind's eye he painted a wide and cruel grin upon the Shade's inky black face. The Dwarf that had been put in charge of seeing him to the school quickly began to pull him away from the fight, but they never got far as the shade moved faster than he would have thought possible.

Suddenly it was before him and he heard a wet gurgle coming from beside him as the Shade held one arm outstretched, and Harry turned to see its inky black hand buried in the Dwarf's neck.

With a sickening squelch, it pulled its arm free and Harry found himself staring into the gaping hole that had been opened up in the Dwarf's throat.

The Dwarf fell like a chopped tree and Harry went down with him as he tried to stem the flow of hot, gushing blood. Yet it was to no avail as his small hands could not even cover the rent in the Dwarfs throat, let alone stem the torrent of scarlet fluid that felt as if it was fire as it washed over his hands.

His Scar once more felt as if it was on fire as the Shade drew near him, yet he refused to back away as he turned to stare up at the vile creature that had just snuffed out an innocent life as the Dwarf gave one last gurgling flutter before falling still.

"We meet at last, Harry Potter."


His body was rent and his mind was exhausted as he lay there staring up at the ageless face of the Dwarf. To his weary mind, the being looked at once both strong and full of the vitality of youth as well as holding the burdens and wisdom of all the Ages of the earth.

I must be dreaming.

He thought as he stared blankly up into eyes that seemed to hold an unimaginable depth to them, yet the searing pain that racked his body was quick to disabuse him of that thought.

As if sensing his agony the Dwarf leaned down and placed a hand upon his head, he felt a flowing warmth sweep through him and he watched as the tears in his skin rapidly closed leaving only silvery scars to show where they had been. Even his mind felt clear and he felt a restless energy flood his body.

"Rest easy, child. You are safe and we have much to talk about. Now on your feet." The voice was strong and clear and held an audible undercurrent of power that made him quake at the mere sound of it.

Such indomitable power-filled those words that they seemed to linger upon the air, and he knew with a certainty that he would never, could never, forget what was spoken by the being before him.

Without another word the Dwarf hauled him up with one hand, lifting him with unsettling ease and Callian could only stare in awe at the figure.

The dwarves of his father's hold had done well to capture his likeness, but there was something that the gifted hands of the masons had been unable to imbue into their statues, idols and carved reliefs.

To his second sight, the very magic of the world seemed to ripple about the dwarf, almost as if it could not bear to touch something so utterly Divine. He did not think there were words to describe the presence that exuded from the dwarf.

He was simultaneously awed and terrified. He wanted to bow and scrape yet at the same time stand tall and proud.

With a shake of his head, he did just that. Standing straight he looked the dwarf in the eye and he found a small pleased smile spreading across the face of the Seeker of Secrets.

"Good, I have chosen well."

Callian found his cheeks warming at the praise, and a strange giddy smile spread across his face.

"How is this possible?" He breathed as found himself dropping his gaze when he realised he was staring.

"What was done here tonight has touched the Veil. Something that has not been done in a thousand years, and from it I have used the connection I share with you." He reached up to place a finger against the pendant hanging about his neck. "To bridge the distance and appear here, in this place."

Callian looked around them, the glow of the stone beneath their feet had not abated and he found his gaze rising to take in the magnificence of the great tree once more.

Something about it now seemed different to him and it took only a few heartbeats to realise that the slow, steady pulse that he had sensed before now had a frantic energy to it. Yet to his mind it felt lacking, almost as if something was missing.

Delvaryn moved with a slow, steady grace as he walked to the base of the tree and reached out one hand to rest it lightly upon a thick root that spread out along the ground before disappearing beneath the soil.

"This was once a place of power. Long, long ago, when the Gods walked the earth freely we would have fought for places such as this. Kar Vaneth, your father's ancestral hold resides over one such place, it is how I was able to commune with him all those centuries ago."

Callian tried to process everything that he had just learned, but it was enough to make his head ache. He could only watch as the dwarf's hand pulsed with a golden light, as a small frown marred his ageless face. "A remnant of one of the Elder Gods lingers here, faint but noticeable still." A ghost of a smile flitted across his features then, and Callian could well imagine some ancient forest God surrounded by their worshippers in this place.

"It has been far too long since any of the pantheons have walked the world, all because those accursed pacts between Gods and men prevented us from physically appearing as we desired."

Callian furrowed his brow as he filed that thought away, he would have to research these pacts when he got back to the castle. He stared at the broad back of the Dwarven God, as Delvaryn continued to study the tree. "But something has changed, has it not? You would not be able to appear here now if there was something still barring you from doing as you wish."

He could scarcely imagine what had the power to hold back such strength that emanated from the figure before him.

Delvaryn nodded his head once. "There are events in motion that have repercussions, The Concord that held us at bay has been broken and I and my brothers will not allow our children to fall into Darkness."

Callian could only shake his as he tried to make sense of what the Divine being before him was talking about. A part of him was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was talking to a literal God, and he wondered if he had gone crazy from channelling so much raw power.

"You have not lost your mind yet, child. I am as real as you, this tree, or the ground beneath your feet."

Callian quickly wrapped his mind in the Void of Thought, as he looked at that faint smile once more. "Can you detect my thoughts?!"

The question slipped from his lips before he could stop himself, and a Delvaryn laughed. Long and wholesome, the rich timbre of it brought a smile to Callian's face and before he knew what he was doing he had moved to join Delvaryn by the root.

"Be at peace, Callian. I can pull your thoughts from your mind if I so desire and even your clever little blanking technique would do nothing to help you, but to answer your question I did not read your mind, your face said it all very clearly."

Delvaryn cocked his head to the side, a curious look on his face. "It always did baffle me, whenever we first appeared to one of the faithful they always thought they were going mad. Must be something about mortals." Delvaryn just shrugged his broad shoulders before turning to look back at Callian who chuckled softly at his words.

Callian made to speak, to unleash the torrent of questions that were burning to be asked when a rustling in the leaves overhead pulled his attention.

A golden glow began to form amidst the boughs of the tree before it slowly descended to hover before Callian, to his amazement he found a large acorn the size of his fist floating at eye level.

He found a strange look upon Delvaryn's ageless face and with a nod from the Dwarven God he reached up to pluck it from the air.

"What is this?" He asked as he ran his hands over the warm surface of the nut, at his touch he watched as a single green sprout began to protrude from it and wrap around his hand.

"That should be impossible." The deep rumble of Delvaryn's voice pulled him from his inspections of the seedling.

The ancient being was staring at the seedling in his hand as if it may bite him, Callian did not think he would ever forget the look of surprise upon Delvaryn's face.

Seeing his questioning look, he began to explain.

"I have said that this is a place full of powerful Magic. It is a nexus or wellspring of energies, and such places often break or bend the laws of nature. It seems that the remnant of the Elder God is stirring. The roots of this tree reach deep into the earth, yet they also reach out to the Veil between worlds. When the ancient pacts were sealed some of the Divine refused to leave." Callian could only watch as Delvaryn's face twisted with such profound sadness. Such heartbreak flooded his presence that Callian found tears falling from his own eyes as the emotions washed over him.

"Many of my brethren were forced to stagnate within the Veil itself. Trapped and isolated, many became mad with the grief of being cut off from their beloved children. Others became dormant. The oldest and strongest among us somehow slept away the ages, awaiting the day when they could return. When you fed Magic into the glyph beneath our feet, you awoke the tree. In doing so you have allowed it to call out across the Divide and its Master is stirring. What you hold in your hand is a token of thanks for and an offer of hope and aid should it be used wisely."

Callian turned his gaze to study the tree once more. "You speak as if it is sentient, but the only thing I can sense about it is the strange heartbeat. But it feels like it's missing something, it feels like I'm only hearing half of a song."

Delvaryn smiled widely at his words as he offered a slight nod of his head. The dwarven Gods' penetrating orbs seemed to be staring deep into his very soul as he spoke. "Very good, indeed. I had not thought you would be able to perceive such things."

Delvaryn began to circle about him, the tall frame of the God seeming to loom over him.

"Let your magic search the seedling in your hand. Tell me what you can sense?"

Callian did as he was asked and sent a probing thread into the acorn, he could easily detect the strong magical presence radiating from it but he could not quite fathom what Delvaryn was asking him to find. He searched for several minutes, yet could not delve anything further from the nut when he felt the faintest pulse of Magic. It was so slow and weak that if he had not been searching for something odd about the acorn he would have missed it.

"It feels almost like the tree, yet this is so faint I can barely even sense it."

Delvaryn nodded at his words, yet he waited for Callian to put the pieces together. He ran the problem over and over in his head and he realised that the answer was surprisingly simple.

"This," he said, holding up the acorn. "Will act as the other half of the…song. Once it is grown it will share a connection with this tree."

Still walking about him Delvaryn offered him a small smile. "Very good, indeed. I mentioned that this was a place of power, with the seedling planted in another such place then both trees will not just touch the Veil, they will breach it. What you hold in your hand is an anchor to a bridge that could connect this place to any other in all of existence. It is an artefact that many would kill for, even those among the Divine."

Delvaryn stopped his endless circling then as he stared at Callian. He got the distinct impression that he was an oddity to the God, and he had to wonder why he had been chosen to be the one Delvaryn wished to appear to.

"I chose you because you are what should not have been."

Callian could only stare dumbfounded at the dwarf before he wrapped his mind in the comforting emptiness of the Void.

Seeing his expression Delvaryn began to explain. "Among the Divine, we can see the threads of Fate. We are able to perceive the Great Weave and try to fit our designs into its pattern. However, you are like a rend in the fabric of Fate, about you everything is in turmoil. Knotting and reweaving without a care for the pattern that Fate has preordained. You are an aberration to the flow of destiny and you are unknowingly shaping it to your desires."

Callian understood then, he remembered his vision of the Priests his family had discovered centuries ago and one word tumbled from his lips in a whisper.

"Athbavgath."

Delvaryn nodded his head at the word. "Even now, you stand where you should have died." He reached out a hand as if seeking to pluck something from the air. "I can see the thread of what should have been, death should have claimed you. Yet the tread is severed and cast away from you as if it is nothing more than a silken strand spun by a spider, but you have defied an absolute. You determine your Fate. That is why you are named as an Arbiter of Fate. That is why I have chosen you. "

Callian was silent as he took in everything that Delvaryn had revealed to him.

A sudden realisation came then, he was not the only one to be named an Arbiter of Fate. Magthen had named Harry, Adria and Hermione along with him; would they also alter the flow of Fate just as much as he.

Delvaryn chuckled then, a sound that was full of good cheer and seemed to make the world just a little bit brighter at its utterance. A smile tugged at Callian's lips as he listened to the sound.

"You are correct about your friends, yet they will change the pattern in their own ways. Some things even I can not see, and their fates are as convoluted as your own."

Callian was about to speak when a loud snapping in the brush behind him had him spinning to see the small triangular head of Faenir poking out from between several roots at the edge of the clearing.

Holding his arm out to his familiar he found his mind bombarded with concern impressions and probing questions as the pseudodragon ignored his outstretched arm and simply flew straight at his chest forcing him to pocket the seed and wrap his arms around the creature.

I felt your pain. Then you were gone.

Faenir buried his small snout into the crook of Callian's neck and he could do nothing more than send comfort and reassurance along their bond.

Looking back at Delvaryn, Callian found the dwarven God seemed somewhat distracted as he stared into the distance. He did not fail to note that there was a tenseness in the set of his shoulders and he felt a sliver of uncertainty creep into his heart.

"We do not have much time. There are forces at play that are hidden from my sight, but I can tell they are near at hand. You must leave this place quickly, you must return to your family. They are in danger and will need your aid before the end."

Delvaryn turned and grabbed his shoulders, his grip strong and almost to the point of being painful as he led him away from the tree.

Just before they reached the tree line at the edge of the clearing Delvaryn spun him around until Callian was looking at him once more.

"You must take your leave now, lest unkind eyes fall upon you. Keep my symbol close to you at all times. With it I will always be near, take it to my temple in your father's hold. There I will speak with you again."

Before he could say another word Callian felt a Spellweave form next to him as a rent appeared in the air. It was far more complex than anything he had seen before, yet done with such ease it was terrifying.

The tear quickly widened until he could see the edge of the forest, the flash of spell light was visible through the trees. He could see the flicker of dark figures moving in the flashes of light, but he had no idea who or what was out there.

Turning to look back at Delvaryn he found the dwarven God staring into the distance, following his gaze Callian found himself taking a step back as he thought he saw something darker than the shadows of the night at the edge of the clearing moving closer.

The golden glow seemed to be hindering its advance, but the ever-encroaching wave of darkness was not to be held at bay for long.

At first, he thought it was a trick of the light, the foul feeling that he could sense at the borders of his mind conjured merely by his exhaustion.

But to his amazement, the very shadows began to slowly creep over the surrounding trees. Its oily blackness slowly spread up the trunks of trees and across the boughs above as a cascade of brown dry leaves began to fall.

His amazement quickly turned to horror as he watched the shadow-touched trees begin to wither and die, becoming gnarled and twisted husks devoid of all life.

It reminded him of the shade of Lord Voldemort that he had last encountered when he had taken the life of Marcus Flint, yet this was altogether viler. It made the Dark Lord feel like an infant as it radiated a powerful sense of anger and malice, but strangely Callian also detected a strange sense of hunger underlying it all.

Before Calian could move, Delvaryn reached out and shoved him through the opening sending him into a tumble where he landed several meters away. The portal closed behind him with an audible hiss of displaced air, and Callian climbed back to his feet with an agitated Faenir climbing up to sit about his shoulders. Together they stared at the space where they had just tumbled out of, but it revealed nothing more to them. His mind was racing and he was left with more questions than ever, he wanted answers more than anything but it was to little avail and he would have to do as Delvaryn asked and seek him out in his Temple in his father's hold.

Slowly they turned to stare at the flashes of light they could see through the trees, taking a deep breath he made to move when he felt a familiar presence so very close to the edge of the wood. While it may pale in comparison to what he had just sensed at the heart of the forest there would be no mistaking the vile and corrupted Magic of Lord Voldemort.


The first spell hit him and he screamed.

It tore from his throat with such force he could taste blood in his mouth, when the second spell followed only seconds later he could only double up in the hopes of hiding against the pain, he felt as if his entire body was flayed alive while also being stabbed by a thousand tiny blades.

As quickly as it had come the pain stopped as the Dark Lord cancelled his spell in time to deflect a strange pulsating net of golden light. The spell hit the ground beside Harry and burned through the hard-packed soil with a hiss, small flames sprang up as the grass near the impact caught alight and he had to scramble away quickly as the fires spread rapidly through the long grass at the forest's edge. If it was not taken care of quickly the fire was likely to spread into the forest itself, already he could see it licking at the roots of the forbidding trees.

The sudden light illuminated Voldemort in all his nightmarish glory. Oily black and radiating an almost physical sense of malice, the shadowed form of the Dark Lord moved with a fluid grace as he sidestepped another burning ribbon of light.

The Shade was only a few feet away from him and Harry felt his heart skip a beat as the burning scarlet flames turned to regard him.

Yet Amerytha was there suddenly, like an avenging angel with her hands aglow with the golden glow of spell light as she screamed her fury at the abomination before her.

Her voice held such heat to it that even the fires about them seemed like a gentle breeze in comparison.

"YOU WILL NOT HARM MY BOY!"

Harry felt his heart swell at those words, it was the first time since he had become a foster child of House Blackwood that he had felt like he truly belonged there. That he was truly and utterly loved, and would always be protected by his family. Somewhere deep within him, he felt the dim presence of his mother's sacrifice flare brighter in response to Amerytha's words.

The pain began to build then.

Not the searing agony he had felt before, but a slow prickly heat that began upon his brow before spreading outwards. His body felt feverish and he could sense his Magic reacting wildly almost as if it was in a desperate fight of its own. The sensation seemed all-consuming to him as he felt his scar split open. The stinging heat had become something altogether more now and it felt as if electricity was coursing through his nerves.

He tried to close his eyes to the pain, but they refused to co-operate and he could only stare as an inky black mist oozed from his scar. He managed a strangled cry that alerted Amerytha and she had time to jump out of the way as she stared in horror as the mist twisted and turned like a serpent in the air.

Voldemort seemed just as startled before a victorious laugh escaped him and as he reached out an inky black hand towards the strange mass hovering in the air.

"Come to me. Return to your rightful place."

Like a nervous pet, the floating miasma of twisted energies slowly made its way towards the Dark Lord, and as soon as the shadowy mist was within reach Voldemort's hand shot forward and snaked about it.

Almost at once, an awful, hair raising shriek went up from the strange mass of twisted energy and Harry felt a sense of pity as he watched the writhing energy being consumed piece by piece by the Dark Lord.

The humanoid form exploded then as a mass of darkness shot out in every direction.

He watched as Amerytha was sent flying through the air to land several meters away in a tangle of limbs and twisted robes, yet he could do nothing to help her as a great pressure flattened him to the unforgiving ground. His vision blurred and he saw stars as his head was slammed back with such force that he felt tears stinging his eyes and he could only scream.

He felt a sense of utter foreboding fall over him then, greater than anything he had ever experienced before as the darkness before him only seemed to grow greater still.

Whatever it was that had come from his scar had only seemed to have made Voldemort even more powerful. The twisted presence of the Dark Lord seemed to have become increasingly more stable and a laugh bubbled up from within that shadowy mass.

It was a pure sound, full and clear, and altogether unsettling coming from within that shadowy mass. Slowly the shadows once more coalesced into the shape of a man and he found himself staring up into those scarlet flames.

The pressure holding him to the ground had yet to abate, and he could do little more than try and push against the magic pinning him. However, all his efforts were in vain, it felt as if he were trying to move a mountain.

He refused to show how afraid he was as Voldemort came to a stop at his feet and to his own amazement he held the fiery gaze without flinching, a chuckle greeted him as the Dark Lord leaned down to get a better look at him.

"I must say I am impressed. You are just like your father. He refused to admit defeat even when it was clear he had no hope of winning."

He watched as a mote of green light began to form within the Shade's hand and still, he refused to look away. If he was going to die then he would do so without cowering, his heart was hammering in his chest such that he was sure he could hear it beating through his ribs.

"Make peace with your Fate, Harry Potter. You would never be able to defeat me."

The green mote continued to grow in the shadow's hand, it crackled with power and held such malice within it that he was surprised the Dark Lord could hold the spell.

Harry could only watch as the Dark Lord slowly raised his hand, yet just as he brought it to hover before him a bolt of bright flame struck the side of the Shade's head.

The sickly glow of the spell left the Dark Lord's hand and struck the ground only a few inches from Harry's head, and out the corner of his eye, he watched a small patch of grass was turned black by the spell before it crumbled into dust leaving barren and cracked earth bare to the night sky.

Voldemort made to turn his head at whoever dared to strike him only for several more bolts of flame to strike him repeatedly. It did nothing to harm the Shade, only causing a hiss of annoyance to escape him but Harry could only offer a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity was watching over him that the Dark Lord's attention was focused on someone else.

"Never say never, My Lord."

The pressure holding him down disappeared in an instant and for the first time since this nightmare had started, he sensed true unfettered surprise radiating from the Dark Lord.

He could not blame him as Callian walked towards them, Faenir sat proudly about his shoulders and even his torn and singed robes could not detract from the sense of power radiating off of him. It was still a dim flame compared to the adults about them, but even Hary could tell that there were few among the students that could match him.

The flames separated about him as he calmly walked towards them, before the fire that had started to climb the trees suddenly started to be drawn towards his friend before rising to form a dozen orbs of roiling flame.

"Impossible!" The word slipped from the Shade, it seemed to carry on the night air. A startled gasp came from behind him and he heard a sob escape from Amerytha as she climbed back to her feet to see her son, alive and seemingly none the worse for wear.

"I am a Blackwood. Nothing is impossible." The words held a confident edge that brought a laugh from the Dark Lord.

"It would indeed appear so." Voldemort moved slowly then, seeming to forget about Harry as he walked towards Callian. "I offered you the chance to join me once already. Together, we can reach heights the likes of which none have ever conceived. Join me and we will remake the world in our image."

The fires of his eyes seemed to hold a greedy quality to them as he stared at Callian. Harry felt something twist within his mind, and a sudden sense of vertigo washed over him.

"Harry, listen closely. I can't hold the connection for long, let me help your friend."

The words were like a whisper in his mind and he immediately seized the mental presence, it was like trying to hold onto smoke and he could already feel it slipping from his grip.

"Mum!"

He did not realise that he had spoken aloud but whatever remnant of his mother remained within him seemed to give the equivalent of a mental nod.

"I am here sweetheart, but please listen to me. I need you drawn from your Reservoir. I can help keep you both safe, but you have to hurry."

Hearing the words of his mother, something that he had not thought he would ever hear again gave him a strength he did not know he possessed.

Climbing to his feet he did as his mother asked and began to draw as deeply as he could upon his magic. His hands began to move of their own accord as unknown Weaves and wand movements of a dozen different spells began to combine in a complex twinning of Magic. He would have panicked, but for the first time that he could remember he felt his mother's presence as an almost physical thing. He felt as if he could reach out and touch her and he revelled in the unconditional love she held for him.

Voldemort turned as soon as he began to draw upon his Reservoir, yet every spell he sent towards Harry was stopped or deflected by Amerytha as she rushed to rejoin them.

Callian seized the opportunity and began to hammer into the Shade again and again with his flaming orbs. Each was the size of a melon but they exploded outwards upon impact, engulfing the Dark Lord in fires that seemed to cling to his shadowy form.

The barrage of spells only seemed to annoy Voldemort, but it gave his mother enough time to finish her spell work. Harry had no clue as to what was happening, the only thing he could liken it to was a strange variant of the portal magic Denevan had devised. He could only watch as his wand traced a green line into the air before him as he sensed more than watched as Weaves that he could not recall creating tore the rent in reality wide open and sickly blue fires spilt forth.

Voldemort screamed as the strange flames washed over him and Harry felt a wave of utter coldness hit him, as odd blue-green hoarfrost began to form in the wake of the fire's passage.

The Dark Lord fell back as the flames continued to pursue him, as if summoned by his pain the Thirteen fell into the shadows only to reappear at Voldemort's side. Working together they managed to smother the eldritch fires, but it was clear to all that the Dark Lord had been hurt significantly and with a hiss of rage he pulled his servants into him as he sent a look of utter loathing toward Harry before he fled into the night. Yet Harry felt as if nothing great had been won, the Dark Lord may have been beaten by his mother's spells, but he knew with a certainty that should he have pushed the matter Voldemort would have easily killed all of them.

Harry could only watch as the rent in reality closed of its own accord now that he was no longer feeding it with power. The blue fires that had poured through now licking hungrily at the edges of the wound in the fabric of the world, before they were cut off with a cracking sound that reminded him of ice breaking underfoot. He felt the exhaustion hit him like a tidal wave and he would have fallen if Calllian had not appeared and held him upright. His friend's face was only inches from his own and Harry in his exhaustion reached up like a drunkard and poked his friend in the centre of his forehead. "Knew you weren't dead."

The comforting presence of his mother retreated within his mind, yet he refused to let her go. He clung to the fluttering spark of her that he could feel growing dimmer by the second and as his eyes closed and he descended into unconsciousness he willed as much of his remaining magic as he could into fanning the dying spark of his mother's light to life.

His last thought followed him into the dark.

I will not let you go again.