A/N: Thank you for the support and reviews!

Soaring across the London sky, the eagle finally circled around a tall building's roof before it magically disappeared and a blond-haired man suddenly appeared on the roof. He peered over the roof's ledge and scanned at the crowd moving below. All of them seemed so blissfully unaware of the dangers lurking around them, so focused in getting from one place to another that it was almost disappointing. He had hoped for a little more challenge, but alas, it mattered little. As long as his final solo act was performed successfully, the wizarding world would learn that the mad jester who was never gone had finally begin rousing from his long slumber. It would be too late for them then, because the trumpet would have been blown and the Executioner would have signaled his return, and the Dark Lord's court would once again rise and assemble. All those who believed that the dark court was gone would rue the day they celebrated a victory that never was.

Combing a hand through his blond hair, he laughed softly to himself as he jumped off the ledge and dived into the small space between two buildings. Upon landing safely on his feet, he stood up carefully and patted his pockets to be sure that everything was still where they should be. As he shuffled towards the brighter end of the alley, his shoulders brushed against the walls that flanked him until he stopped just a little off the mouth of the alley. Pressing himself against one of the walls, he dug in his pocket for a small flask, uncorked it and swallowed the contents in one gulp.

Slowly, his blond hair turned darker until it was completely black, and his skin became tanner, and his face softened its edges to assume a younger and more boyish appearance. The laughter lines around his eyes had melted away and freckles appeared in their place, and the faint hint of facial hair had completely disappeared. Almost too vain, he took out a mirror and inspected his new look. Everything looked perfect – even the boyish grin on his face was exactly as he envisioned – except for the notable laughing violet eyes that leered mockingly at him.

He shook his head a little amused, lowered his head and escaped the alley. Walking among the common muggles, he slipped into an optical shop and quickly bought a random pair of shades before anyone could try to start a small chat with him. Swiftly, he made a beeline to a phone booth and leaned against the phone. Picking up the phone, he breathed deeply, "It's showtime!" He input the code carefully and relaxed his body as he was taken to the underground organization.

Thomas Mills grinned boyishly as he walked out of the lift and headed to the receptionist whom he greeted warmly and inquired about her day before he turned towards a department called Magical Registry. Along the way, he greeted everyone jovially, shook hands and nodded humbly before he politely excused himself.

Just as Thomas was entering the department, a hand clasped on his shoulder and roughly dragged him back and spun him until he was pinned against the wall. Thomas looked up into the face of a mean man.

His brown hair was cut short at the sides, but his slanted fringe fell over half his face. His lips had curled into an ugly sneer as he tilted his chin up to glare down at Thomas from the corner of his eyes. "Well, well, if it isn't Tommy the farmer's son," he snickered as he squeezed the shoulder harder and his lips curled a little more vicious. "You're trying to be one of the cool kids now with your little shades?"

"I've sore eyes so I need my sunglasses to avoid infecting others," Thomas Mills replied as he grimaced noticeably from the pain that shot from his shoulder. "Do you mind if I go now? I plan to catch up with my piling work."

"Oh, goody two shoes, Tommy Milly," the brown-haired man taunted as he continued squeezing the shoulder, and then he pulled out his wand to tap on his cheek. Looking at Thomas from the corner of his eye, he continued mocking, "Surely you've time to talk to aurors? Everyone wants to be friends with an auror. Everyone wants to curry favors with us; work can always wait, don't you think?"

"I'm not interested," Thomas snarled as he slapped the hand that had been squeezing his shoulder painfully and glared at the mocking blue eye from behind his black sunglasses. "Get out of my way, I'm busy."

"For a squirt, you've got guts to bare your tiny fangs at me," the auror sneered as he narrowed his eyes and jabbed his wand tip into Thomas' chin, "I've got every permission to kill my enemies, and that includes rude little twerps like you."

"I'd like to see you try," Thomas challenged as he whipped out his wand and pressed its tip on the auror's chest exactly where the auror's heart was beginning to beat a little harder. Excitement was building in Thomas as his blood was rumbling in his ears.

Provoke me more...

As the wizards continued to stand off, suddenly, an arm slung over the auror's shoulders as a friendly face popped over his shoulder. His golden hair was swept back, and his brown eyes shined brightly as he came around and pushed both wands away. "Come on, Garry, leave Mills alone," he chided as he smiled kindly at Thomas who continued glaring, "we shouldn't bully the weak and defenseless."

"Oh sure, Pete," Garry snickered as he swept his long brown fringe off his face as he looked pitifully at the glaring junior registrar, "well scurry along, poor rat. A farmer's boy can never aspire to be an auror anyway. Be sure to thank your hero 'cos not everyone's gonna come to your rescue all the time." He chortled as he walked away leaving his friend to deal with the ministry worker.

"Don't mind him, Mills," Pete advised as they watched Garry walk away. "You know Garry has always been like that."

Thomas hummed a non-committal sound and Pete smiled apologetically before he excused himself to walk the same exit as Garry had. "You're Williamson?" Thomas suddenly asked just as Pete was about to turn a corner, "As in Peter Williamson?"

"Yeah, that's me. We joined the ministry together, remember?" Peter smiled as he patted his chest and waved goodbye. Had Peter stayed just a fraction of a moment longer, he would have noticed the unusual sinister smile that had curled on the usually submissive junior registrar.

Thomas stood in the spot a little longer before he turned his heel and entered the registry department. Quickly, he got to work and began fetching the personal details of the pair of junior aurors. How dare they touched him! How dare they think themselves to be superior to him! Ridiculous! He vowed they would pay the price for their impertinence, and they would pay so very dearly.

"Hey Tommy, you're looking a little weird."

"Huh?" Thomas blinked as he looked up to a worried face.

"Are you alright?"

Thomas blinked again before he nodded and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, the vacation ended too early," he stuttered and scratched his cheek, "I'll brew myself a cup and be right at my work."

"Yeah, you do that," she nodded before she came closer and whispered, "You weren't around when the news came out but they said a Death Eater broke out of Azkaban!"

"No way, you're kidding!" Thomas exclaimed as he stood up and stared seriously into her eyes. He lowered his voice and continued urgently, "It's Azkaban! No one escapes from there!"

"Yeah that's what everyone thought," she countered, "but there are rumors that the one who broke out is You-Know-Who's you-know-what."

"They're all terrifying, if you ask me," Thomas muttered under his breath, "and a little crazy somewhere."

"You've a point," she conceded easily, "but it's the Russian killer that broke out! So we're all on red alert now and his weapons that are confiscated –"

"Alice! Thomas! Get to work! You're not being paid to flirt!"

"What about his weapons?" Thomas whispered urgently as he grabbed her wrist just as she was returning to her desk, "You can't tell me half a gossip and leave! That's rude!"

"I heard that they're transferring his weapons to Hogwarts to be guarded by the strongest wizards and witches…and Dumble-freaking-dore!"

"When is the transfer happening?"

"Today at lunch."

Thomas stared at the clock at the far wall and nodded numbly as he released her. He did not have enough time – he had to make his move now or retrieving the blades would be much more impossible. Killing Williamson and Collymore could wait. Thomas gritted his teeth as he began searching hastily over the table to look for a map of the ministry. Marking out his current position and the position of the sacred blades, Thomas pursed his lips and drummed his fingers on the desk. There were plenty of ways to get to the blades, but the straight path was the fastest. With the Aurors moving faster than he anticipated, he had to take risks and race against time. There was no room for deliberation.

Hastily, Thomas crammed the files into his bottomless coat pocket and left his department. Striding swiftly and purposefully, he ignored everyone as he crossed the atrium towards the department of magical artifacts. He needed to get the blades. He could hear their cruel laughter and feel their hunger having been a little too well acquainted with them.

Skin. Kill. Decimate. Chaos.

"Mills, what are you doing here?"

Thomas stopped abruptly and looked up as if he were a deer caught in the headlights. Turning his head around dazedly, he finally found the person who called him – the receptionist of the department of magical artifacts. "I…" he huffed as he forcefully recomposed himself, "I have been sent by the department to do a final check on Do-the weapons."

"There's no need to, Mills," she replied as she stared at him suspiciously through narrowed eyes, "the aurors are taking care of it. You're not-"

"I need to see the weapons!" Thomas insisted as he slammed his palms on the table, "I have to see the blades."

"Mills, this is the last time I am saying this," she persisted as she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips at him, "the aurors are taking care of the transfer. You are not required."

Irritated at being deterred, and in a tight race against time, Thomas swiped out his wand and immediately cast a curse on her. As red mist shot out of the wand tip and enveloped them, the woman began gasping and shuddering. Gradually, her posture folded until she was squatting and whimpering gibberish before him. "Open the way for me to his blades," he ordered softly. His violet eyes watched her terrified frame struggle to reach for the keypad. Her trembling fingers input the codes slowly, and finally, the welcoming sounds of locks opening echoed in the reception. Thomas smiled as the door to the restricted corridor of confiscated artifacts swung open. "Thank you," he chuckled at the terrified witch, "let's release you from your nightmare." He waved his hand and opened his arms to wait for her to fall unconscious and into his arms. Carefully, he set her lying on the floor before he strode into the restricted area. He walked past all the closed doors, until he reached a door with a tag id and name.

Digging deep into one of his pockets, he pulled out a bottle and emptied the contents on his gloves. Spreading the salve generously on both hands, he breathed deeply and gripped the door handle firmly. Pulling it, he winced when the door groaned loudly but immediately, relief swept over his features when he saw the treasures the door was hiding. All seven of Dolohov's sacred blades were chained and kept in separate cases. It would be foolish for him to simply walk into the chamber. There was no doubt that there were traps lying hidden. Digging into his pocket, he searched for a tiny bottle of dust. He shook the bottle hard a few times, held his breath and opened it. He blew gently across the mouth of the bottle and watched the dust fly and scatter. Immediately, lines that were hidden before were revealed, tricky tiles with hidden runes appeared and Thomas sighed ruefully at the half-empty bottle. That was... never mind, he would mourn the loss later. The bastard's cursed weapons were the priority. Carefully, he recapped the bottle and returned it into his pocket before he moved cautiously and swiftly into the room.

Pulling out his locket watch, he sighed at the time. Noon was a mere ten minutes away. He was certain they would be here before the ten minutes, and he needed to find a way to break the blades out. With the gloves, it was impossible for him to inspect the cases. As soon as his hand touched the surface of a case, all seven cases broke into smithereens and an alarm roared while the blades began shuddering forcefully against their chains. Thomas looked around him and snarled as rocks began falling from the ceiling. The chamber was quickly heating up. Thomas cursed as he released the blades, wrapped them in a magical cloth, before dumping them into another of his coat pockets. Certain that the items were secured, he swiftly moved towards the exit. Metals bars quickly appeared from above and below at the exit of the chamber, and he gritted his teeth. With the rocks still falling from the ceiling, and the exit blocked, fire was shooting rapidly out of the cracks on the floor.

"You want to stop the master of fire?" Thomas sneered at the chaos around him, "That's a poor joke." Pulling out his wand from his coat, he waved it above his head. A huge fire halo appeared above him, and from it, a beast made of flames came out. He directed the beast to the exit by pointing his wand tip in that direction. The fire falcon spun and flew swiftly past the chaos and raging inferno and crashed against the metal bars before it burnt the opposite door and disappeared into tiny ambers. Thomas smiled and walked out of the chamber in a barrier made of flames. As he jogged out of the dingy corridor, he was ambushed by spells. Pain jolted him and Thomas stopped momentarily to touch his face. The bridge of his nose, and his cheek were itching. Turning his head to the right and left, he sighed heavily when he saw the aurors approaching him.

All he wanted was to retrieve the weapons and those pesky aurors' details. Was that too much? Why did everyone have to try his patience today? Honestly, if he had been the sleeping Russian, he really would have turned the entire department into a slaughterhouse just for looking at him. Alas, he was not the meticulous bastard which was a pretty good reason why most of his plans never worked as smoothly as he imagined. Thomas scratched the back of his head, and dropped his shoulders.

"I really hate to do this," he groaned loudly at the Aurors who pointed their wands threateningly, "it's troublesome, cumbersome and just... too... darn... exhausting." Thomas slackened his grip on the wand and closed his eyes. Just as his ears listened to the slight change in the silent corridor, his body lurched forward in perfect timing to evade the spells that came bursting out of the Aurors' wands. A little too lazily, Thomas spun around one heel and cast Incendio on both aurors before he walked on without a glance at either of them. Their howlings of pain as they burnt to death filled the huge passageway and Thomas allowed himself a sly smile. Avada Kedavra might be the go-to spell for a lot of wizards and witches but Thomas preferred to burn them. It was not often that he killed them but when he did, he preferred them to really die instead of just dying. Falling down like dead flies seemed a little too merciful and gentle for his enemies.

Upon reaching the exit of the department of magical artifacts, he sighed even louder and rubbed his eyes, when he observed the crowd of armed wizards and witches. "Drop your wand, and hands in the air!"

Thomas stared at the commanding wizard and smiled cruelly. He raised his wand in the air, and quickly summoned a swarm of locusts. As the plague of fire locusts formed a wall between Thomas and the crowd, and it buzzed loudly before the echo of crepitation rang through the auditorium. Immediately after that, the locusts flew swiftly and chaos ensued. The crowd fired spells against the fiery spirits which simply dodged out of the paths. As the ministry members were kept busy, Thomas slipped away to a place he could hide momentarily to catch his breath. Using the summoning spells twice, and especially something as draining as a huge cloud of locusts, had taken quite a toll on him and he was running on an almost empty tank. It was obvious to him that he had been out of practice for a long time, or he had aged a little too much for his liking.

Add to that, it was much too difficult to channel his magic through a defiant, rude and arrogant wand. To command a spell through an uncooperative wand demanded a huge pool of magic if one wanted the same effect. There was only two ways of getting a wand to cooperate: either you gained its respect and form a mutual partnership – which was the usual operation, or you overwhelmed it with your dominant personality, your magic or simply made it submissive. For Thomas though, the wand in his hand was too rebellious and he could only force it to cooperate by forcing his magic through it. That was why, for now, he hoped he would not encounter a senior member of the Order. It would be too troublesome and unnecessarily exhausting. He needed to conserve the rest of his energy if he wanted to escape from here.

"Tom? Is that you?"

Thomas blew angrily and tiredly through his nose as he opened his eyes and glared at the person who called him. She was a young woman, and if anything, she would be an easy bug to kill. She could not possibly be a member of the Order. He pointed the wand threateningly at her, and asked coldly, "What do you want?"

"Why are they chasing you? What did you do?"

Thomas was about to reply when a spell whizzed threateningly past his face. What was with the ministry and blasting at faces? Thomas snarled as another jolt of spell crashed into the space centimeters from him. As more spells came flying, he dodged and rolled, pulled the witch under him, shielded her and summoned a thick, impenetrable wall of fire. As shouts echoed in the corridor, and louder sound of galloping roared at that end of the corridor, Thomas winced. There was no way he was going to escape the horde by trading spells with them. He had to escape now. There was no shame in retreating now, especially when he had gotten everything he wanted.

Hands began pushing against him, and he blinked and stared at the scared woman beneath him. Immediately, he got off her, stood up and held a hand to her. As she held his hand and he helped her onto her feet, she stared deeply into his eyes. Curiosity and amazement shined in her eyes as Thomas looked at her warily and wearily. "Your eyes…" she began, "I didn't know you had unique eyes. They remind me of the eyes in my dreams."

"Don't tell me your prince charming has my eyes," Thomas quipped dryly as he glanced at his broken sunglasses and walked away.

"No, not at all!" she retorted too quickly. "I don't know why but I always dream of them! My godfather said those eyes will protect me from death."

"Well, your godfather must have lied then."

"My godfather was an honest man! He was a powerful wizard!"

"What now?" Thomas asked sarcastically as he turned his head just enough to see the woman trailing after him, "You're going to volunteer me a sob story about your godfather?"

"They said he was killed…fighting the Great War. That's why I'm training my hardest to be an auror."

Thomas stopped walking to turn fully and regard her. There were many people he had killed but surely, he would remember killing someone who knew about his eyes. After all, his eyes were not always like this and only a handful knew the story behind his violet eyes. "What was his name?" Thomas asked softly.

Perhaps the woman did not hear him, because she continued without answering him. "My godfather fought the vicious Executioner and the Mad Jester and they said his body was never found."

Thomas kept quiet. A body never found did not necessarily mean a dead body. Perhaps her godfather escaped from Dolohov. Thomas tapped his temple as he mulled. If the bastard woke up with his memories and knowledge, there was no doubt they would be able to identify her godfather. After all, Dolohov had never forgotten his victims. He remembered all of them, and the ways of their deaths. Of course, he was not wondering about the godfather's identity because he was worried that a wizard managed to escape them but because, he was simply curious.

"Hey, who are you?"

Thomas blinked his eyes a couple of times before he stared at her. "I was listening," he defended himself as the woman who stared quizzically at him, "I was just thinking about who your godfather was."

"Yeah, well, I'm here wondering who you are. You're not Thomas Mills. Who are you?"

"I'm-"

"YAXLEY, YOU SCUM!"

"Oh ho..." Yaxley turned and quickly deflected against some of the spells that flew swiftly at him. A raging Alastor Moody stormed quickly as he continued throwing spells viciously. Yaxley moved backwards as he deflected the spells and sent a few of his own counters. When the woman was safely shielded behind Moody, the angry auror stopped and Yaxley heaved.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Moody roared as he sent a powerful spell that Yaxley barely dodged by scampering to the side, "CRAWL LIKE THE WORM YOU ARE!"

"Time to go," Yaxley laughed as he blasted the wall behind him.

Just as he threw himself out, the woman screamed for him to stop. Moody and the woman watched as he fell through the air and burst into flames that gradually dispersed into ambers and then completely disappeared.

"Damn it!" Moody cursed as he pulled the woman away from the dangerous area and towards a safer place. He inspected her for wounds and heaved a sigh of relief. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" he asked carefully. If she had not suffered physical wounds, then she must have suffered some other wounds. There was absolute no way that Yaxley would leave her unharmed. That was unlike him… but what was normal of the Jester?

"No, no, he didn't," she murmured absently, "he saved me."

"He saved you?" Moody repeated incredulously, "The Mad Jester saved you?"

"He was the Mad Jester?" she asked, shocked and breathlessly, "He was the killer? He killed my godfather?"

"The one and only," Moody confirmed solemnly as he watched the woman features transformed from gratefulness to horror to anger. He knew the look. She was going to go after Yaxley and she would die. Closing his hand over hers, he looked deeply into her hurt and hateful blue eyes. "You are not strong enough to go after him, Tonks. He will kill you," Moody advised her firmly, before he helped her up. "Let's get you checked for other injuries."

"I'll show you," she swore under her breath, "I'll avenge you, godfather. I'll kill him so you can rest in peace."

Well, Yaxley the Fire Wizard has shown a little of his magic. Let me know what you think of that. On another note, I will be away for a while, so let's meet again in 2020! Until then, take care! Have an awesome (advanced) start to 2020!