A/N: Dang, when was the last time I was able to post some chapters back to back? Feels like years haha! Well, nothing much else to say except that I hope you enjoy this chapter. If you do, please be sure to Follow, Favorite and Review! Your support really help keep me going!

Chapter XIX: Amidst Smoke and Flames

(Michael P.O.V)

The embers of destruction flickered around Michael like a halo. The scent of charred bodies filled his nose, and the distant screams rattled in his ears. Michael had seen battlefields. He knew the carnage of battle far too well for a boy his age, yet the destruction of the village around him made him ill. Corpses littered the streets and in the center of it was the freak-show before him. The white-haired man didn't share a magical intensity that matched Carmilla's or Voldemort, but it was potent nonetheless. Worse, the man's magic was foreign, and from the look of Sirius' wounds, dangerous.

Michael planted his feet. His armor tugged harder at his magical core by the second. Despite the icy air, sweat beat down his body and drenched him as if he'd just gone for a swim. There'd been a vast number of enemies before this creature, none of whom had gone down without a bit of elbow grease. Michael steadied himself and waited for the vampire before him to move. The suit burned through his core at an alarming rate, which meant there was no room for error. Steadily, he raised his arms into a defensive position and awaited the creature's attack.

"Now, now," The vampire chuckled, "Why the rush? Where are the formalities? I'd hate to kill you without even knowing your name. I sense you're a fair bit stronger than that Sirius fellow so it's only right I acknowledge you."

Magic clustered at Michael's back before he forced them from the suit's exhausts. With a roar, he barreled at the vampire and slammed his fist into the creature's cheek before he could turn himself to mist. A satisfying crack echoed on impact before the nightmare of a man tumbled backward into a burning shack. "Name's Michael," he said with a smirk, "How's that for pleasantries?"

Laughter bellowed from beneath the wreckage. Faster than he could blink, the debris had flown from atop the man and splintered into dust around the white-haired man. "Excellent! Excellent!" The vampire laughed, "I knew it. You are quite strong." He bowed deeply, "The name is Soma, and the pleasure is all mine. Now that we've exchanged greetings-"

Soma lifted his finger that became encapsulated by a red hue. He grinned broadly and swiped at the air with a laugh, "You can die now!"

"Fuck," Michael hissed, his eyes following the man's finger as it slashed through the air. He moved his armored fists up to block, but no attack came. Michael braced himself for pain, but again, nothing came. Softly, he stood straight and glanced at the man whose bloodshot eyes blinked swiftly. "Did you um," Michael stammered, "Did you miss?"

"No I didn't miss!" Soma cried, "That should have been strong enough to split you in two!" Once more, he ran his finger through the air, and once more, nothing happened. "No!" He screamed, "No! No! No! I don't understand!" Rapidly he swiped at the air, over and over. "Why. Won't. You. Die."

Michael suddenly felt a warmth come from his chest plate. A smirk stretched across his lips, and he bit down tightly to hold back a laugh. So that's it. Even if it's an internal attack, his magic still has to reach my body. If this armor continues to act as a barrier, then-, Michael's smirk grew to a full-blown smile. "Soma, you said your name was, right?" The vampire hissed at him, his finger still busy swiping at the air. "Let me tell you something. You can keep waving your finger in the air all day, but today you're just unlucky. Anyone else you might have been able to beat with that little trick of yours. But unfortunately for you, the way I am now, I'm the one opponent you could never hope to defeat."

"What, why?" Soma shouted.

"To put it simply," Michael smiled, "My skills counter yours." With a smile, Michael lifted his hand and forced magic into the sapphire focus crystal. He silently cast a freezing charm with a grunt and forced the once-smiling vampire towards him; the smile faded from his petrified face. Michael steadied his breath and ignited his hand in blue flames that would have made Claire proud. "For all the suffering you caused these people, I hope this hurts like hell!"

Magic bolted out for his elbow, bolstering the force behind his blazing fist, and a scream louder than any Michael had heard within this cursed bubble broke from the man's lips. With disgust, Michael dropped the burning man to the ground and watched the immobilized man try and fail to do anything to alleviate his pain. His glare hadn't left Soma until the man's screams faded into the ashes with him.

"Good riddance," Michael said before he fell to his knees, his hand pressed to his expanding chest. Slowly, the armor fell from his body like raindrops, and searing heat from every muscle stretched across his body. "Damn. This is never not going to be exhausting, is it?" He asked himself wearily.

With the last of his energy, he snapped his fingers and switched the armor back into his carrying pouch. The metallic bands correlated to each armor now scattered before him. He slipped the bands back onto his skin and pulled himself off the ground. Rain fell from the sky and kissed his skin as the bloody barrier faded from view. "Looks like... Carmilla tied her barrier... to this creep after all..." Michael whispered in sporadic breaths. Now, I need to check on everyone else… what a pain.

The smoke from the smoldering wood had clouded the horizon. Distantly, Michael heard the shuffling of footsteps but couldn't find a soul through the debris. The black clouds filled his lungs, and thick, searing coughs ruptured in his chest. The cool breeze did little to alleviate the situation, and while the soft pattern of rain helped to extinguish the flames, the chaos still spread.

Michael paused and leaned on an undamaged support beam. His breaths were ragged and shallow. In minutes, Michael noted his eyelids had begun to droop against his will. Perhaps if he just rested for a little bit, he'd be okay. Michael's eyes had only just shut before he forced them open once more, his reason challenging his exhaustion. With a groan, he pushed himself forward and searched for the faintest hints of magical presence.

The sensation of familiar signatures flashed through his mind, and a cold sweat beat down his skin. Those signatures he sensed no doubt belonged to Tracey, Sirius, Blaise, and Remus. Still, there was another among them, a foreign one, far too powerful to belong to the Bulgarian Minister's son. "Crap," Michael hissed, "I thought we got them all." He dug his fingers deep into his quads and growled, "Come on, move! Move damn it!"

Michael lunged forward to run but tumbled to the ground. He could hardly stand and walk. Running was out of the question. He gathered himself quickly and set his eyes towards the signature's location. "Damn it, how could there still be more of them. Remus, you have to handle this until I get there."

Flashes of ferocious magic in the distance burned through the smoke. Every slow-moving second was a grueling hell. Michael cursed his body with every step as he inched closer to the source of the battle. He waved his hand through the blackened air to see only the destruction the day had brought. How long had he been moving? Michael wondered. How long had they been fighting? By the demanding nature of the spells he sensed, Michael figured it couldn't have been long, but his reality seemed far different than the truth.

"Confringo!" Remus shouted through the smoke. "Stay back! We've killed your leader, so beat it!" Michael raced towards his former professor's voice best he could. "Ms. Davis, Mr. Zabini!" Remus bellowed, "Now would be a great time to get everyone out of here!"

The smoke had cleared around the two wizards. Remus looked battered. Bruises colored his arms, and gashes dripped blood up and down his face. His opponent looked no better but lacked the distinct characteristics of a vampire. His hair was ink-black, and his eyes were dark like the smoke that hovered above them. "I can't fight and babysit everyone here!" Remus growled, "Take Sirius and get out of here! Your job is done!"

"How dare you," The black-haired man whimpered, "How could you do this to us? Don't you understand how beautiful life was here for us? For years we had to hide our superiority in the shadows as if our magic was something to be ashamed of. But then, those angles of the night came, and soon, these muggles were worshiping me like a god! What happened in this village could have been the future for all wizards! So why did you have to go and fuck it up!"

"Thomas, listen, please," Remus said softly. "I know what you must be feeling? I know far too well what it's like to be forced to live in the shadows, but this is not the solution." Thomas shook angrily in place at Remus' words, "Thomas," Remus continued, "We can help you. We're trying to build a more united world. What the Dark Lord and vampires were offering you is little more than forced subjugation. We're better than that. We can live in peace. We can-"

"Shut up!" Thomas shouted. "Reducto!" A blue bolt zipped from the tip of the wizard's wand. Remus ducked covered himself from the impact of the reductor curse's into the house behind him. The stone wall of the small house crumbled to dust and Remus rolled along the dirt ground as the mad-wizard shot spell after spell at him. "I'll kill you for ruining this! I was happy you bastard! For the first time in my life I was happy with who I was! Bombarda Maxima!"

"Remus!" Michael screamed as the ground beneath one of his favorite professors erupted like a volcano. He stood motionless, unable to lift his hand to stop the hard fall of his teacher into the ground. A deafening crack filled the air, and blood began to boil in his veins. Red liquid dripped from his lips from his bleeding gums through his clenched jaw. "Remus!"

Michael wanted to move, but his prison of a body held him in place. Hatred fumed in his head the moment Thomas turned to face him. "Hmm, so you're the one that killed Soma, right!" He shouted through the black fog. Michael growled at the man like he was a werewolf. "Answer me!" Thomas expressions shifted from anger to a broken smile, "No, it matters not. I'm going to kill all of you for ruining my paradise anyway. I don't really care who did what. Lady Carmilla gave me the best life I could ever hope for and all I had to do was pledge my loyalty to her. I'll make you all pay."

Remus rolled and murmured in pain on the ground. He lifted his head from the dirt just enough to see the green hue building in the dark-haired wizard's wand. "You took away my joy, so I'll take away your life," He said in a tear-filled voice, "Avada Ked-"

"Diffindo!" A voice cried out through the smoke. A yelp of pain leaped from Thomas' throat as his wand hand fell into the dirt-made road. "S-stay away!" The caster said, the accent unmistakable, "D-don't hurt anyone else."

"Damyan?" Michael asked in disbelief. The wind brushed the smoke from view revealing the Bulgarian boy's curly blond hair. His battle stance trembled like a leave in a storm, and his face displayed the confidence of a twelve-year old boy talking to his first crush, but all the same, he held his ground.

"It's people like you that are destroying this world!" Damyan shouted. "Who cares if you can do magic or not! That doesn't make you better or worse than anyone else! Sure, we can do things others can't but that doesn't mean we get to decide how people without magic live! My country is filled with idiots like you which is why we'll never evolve! We can build a better world if only it weren't for jerks like you standing in our way!"

Thomas glared back at Damyan. Even from a distance, the hatred that fueled the man's magic was palpable. The blond-Bulgarian swallowed hard but held firm in his place. Michael's eyes shifted between the Minister's son and his former professor. Remus bit back his groans with every attempt to rise, and Michael took a deep sigh of relief when like a shadow of death, Remus hovered behind Thomas. "Ah Fu-," Thomas had gotten to say little else before his stunned body hit the ground.

"Thanks for the distraction," Remus panted. "Let's tie him up and stop his bleeding. The aurors can deal with him once we tell them we've cleared this town for now. And if the vampires get here before we can mobilize so be it."

Damyan nodded and quickly conjured a two ropes. The first was a short tourniquet for the man's severed hand, the second bound him to an extinguished telephone pole. It was only when Michael felt satisfied with the tightness of the rope that he finally called out, "Damyan! A little help over here!"

The blonde searched for him through the smoke and rushed towards his voice. Panic crept across his face at Michael's beaten state, but Michael only smiled, "You should see the other guy. Come on, help me get to the floo. I need a shower." Damyan nodded swiftly and Michael relief swelled in his body thanks to his human crutch.

"So, did we," Damyan whispered, "Did we succeed?"

"That somewhat depends on how many people your team managed to save?" Michael replied bluntly.

"We did our best. The girls and their mother got out. As did a few others we could get to trust us. But, well…" Damyan glanced around at the bodies that swallowed the street, "There weren't a lot of people left."

"If you did the best you could, we call it a victory," Michael said softly.

The Minister's son looked once more at the wreckage of the village, "It doesn't feel like one if I'm being honest."

"Yeah," Michael said numbly, "I know, kid. I know." Michael looked towards the werewolf who too was limping towards the floo. "Come on, let's go home."

(Claire P.O.V)

Claire had found herself in many places doing a great many things she'd never have imagined herself in or doing. She supposed that most of it came with the territory of trying to defeat a Dark Lord, though that in itself almost broke her reality daily. She'd grown up on runways, with pretty dresses and love-struck idiots to bend over backward for her needs. Now the mud from the Highland regions of Southern Ireland nipped away at her boots and jeans, and her mind couldn't help but wander to a simple, charming, blue-haired boy.

She knew of the Order's doctrine. It was sensible. Everyone had a role that only they could play. Michael was a leader, second only to Harry when it came to command. It was understandable that he'd receive missions to lead when push came to shove; Claire only wished she could accompany him. She almost laughed at the cloud of worry that filled her mind. Sure, he was leading an attack on a vampire encampment, but she was on her way to try and tame a dragon. Neither of their missions sounded pleasant.

A light blue flame flickered in her palm. The rain came down hard in the highlands and left a bitter chill in the air. Fleur had followed suit with a white flame, and the two flanked the red-haired man leading their charge to share the heat. Charlie Weasley was an interesting man. He talked far less than Bill and was a far cry from the Ronald Weasley she'd spent some time with before his passing. The man's face was hard, and he carried a look in his blue eyes as if he was staring into the past, present, and future all at once. Nothing like the joyous man that she'd overheard the twins boast about during her time at Hogwarts.

The reason wasn't a mystery to her. Claire imagined any Veela could have sensed the source of the bitterness from a mile away. Charlie Weasley lost the woman he'd loved; Nymphadora Tonks. The man carried himself in a manner that displayed a rush to die. Had it not been for the fire of wanting to see justice done for his deceased friend that fueled him, Claire shuttered to think what the man may have risked on the field. No, she could only be confident of one thing. Until the reign of the Dark Lord ceased, Charlie would refuse to die.

The freezing rain battered away at the coats like gunfire. The heat from their warming charms drowned out from the downpour that sizzled upon contact with the veela's flames. How long had they been walking? How far was left to go? Most importantly, what would they do when they saw the dragon? Claire's mind hopped from question to question like a wild hare. The fire didn't scare her; she couldn't burn. But dragons had other options when it came to killing their prey.

Fleur's lips turned down in a heavy frown. She'd been lucky not to face the dragon during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but they'd all been close enough to see they weren't dealing with a class two beast. Dragons were dangerous, and they were all, quite literally, playing with fire. The three marched in silence for a few more kilometers until Charlie held out his arms and halted them in place. The scent of burnt flesh filled their noses, and Claire followed Charlie as he scanned the area.

Through the downpour, Claire saw nothing of note. Charlie saw differently. Without a word, the red-haired man raced off. Claire shouted with frustration, unable to wade through the mud at the speed of the taller and far stronger Charlie. She leaned against Fleur, the two pushing and pulling each other through the muck until they reached the second-oldest Weasley. A scowl stretched across the dragon tamer's face, his eyes locked on a mess of charred remains.

"Mon Dieu," Fleur muttered, "Is that... a man?"

"An idiot, more like it," Charlie groaned. "Who comes out alone to try and capture a dragon. This fool just made our job much harder."

"Harder how?" Claire asked, unsure if she wanted the answer.

"Dragons are incredibly intelligent creatures," Charlie started. "Despite their classification, most are pretty docile until you piss them off, or in the case of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, try to steal their eggs. Before this idiot attacked it, there might have been a chance we'd be able to establish some trust on our first contact. Now it's going to be on high alert. So yeah, much harder."

Claire sighed. She was unsure why she'd expected the day to go to plan. That was a courtesy rarely afforded to her, and it seemed that today was no different. Charlie muttered to stay on their guard, and Claire's muscles tensed tightly at the warning. She'd seen the might of a dragon before; she wasn't happy to have to see it again.

Charlie took point and marched in front of them, his wand at the ready. Claire and Fleur followed suit, though their exchanged looks shared their nerves. Neither had ever considered the thought of fighting a dragon, and taming an angry one made her nauseous. "Stay close," Charlie whispered. "We want to avoid it, but if it comes to fighting, aim for the eyes. It's literally their only weak point."

"What if it attacks us from the air?" Fleur said, her voice as steady as she could make it.

"Pray to Merlin it misses," Charlie said dryly. "Come on, let's keep going."

Fleur's warning had begun to make Claire's neck hurt. She hadn't even spent this much time looking at the sky in astronomy class, but the idea of being ambushed by an overgrown lizard kept her focus locked. Charlie barked orders for the two to halt or move to a different trail. Truthfully, Claire didn't much need them. The rows of singed grasslands made the dragon's direction clear enough. Still, she wasn't exactly about to argue with the dragon tamer about dragons.

"We're getting close," Charlie said, dipping his finger into the ash and pulling it up towards his nose. "The ash is fresher here." Claire tried to steady the rapid pounding of her heart. The dragon tamer's words filled her simultaneously with dread and relief. From beyond the mountains, a sudden strong gust of wind formed, and then, with a cry loud enough to shake the very mountains it hid behind, the dragon emerged.

"Well," Charlie said with a forced have smile, "At least it's not an ambush."

Claire found little humor in the situation. The two veelas rushed in front of the tamer and readied their wands as the beast soared over head. On Charlie's count, the three cast their shielding charm just as the dragon brought down its' flames. The magic behind the beasts flames was potent and hot enough to make even her heatproof skin sweat. Thin cracks began to form against their magical barrier, and Claire felt her shoulder pound from the force of the flames.

"We can't hold this forever," Fleur hissed. "It's like fiendfyre."

"Some tamers think it's worse," Charlie added, "Hold a bit longer. It can't keep it up forever."

"Neither can we," Claire hissed.

"A little longer!" Charlie repeated. "Don't break yet!"

Finally, the flames subsided with a mighty roar from the beast. The dirt and ash around the beast rose from its landing. Like a horse brought to a stall, the lizard pulled itself up on it's hind-legs and flapped its wings. Their shield's broke instantly, and Claire flew through the air from the burst of concentrated wind. Her body sounded like popcorn as she rolled against the landings of stone and burnt grass. What power, she whispered to herself, can we even stand against something like this?

Through the dust, she saw Charlie climb to his feet. The tamer looked up at the class-five monster with a sympathetic glance that she couldn't begin to fathom. Desperately she tried to scream out for the boy to not go alone, but the wind had been knocked clean out of her, and each attempt to speak produced nothing. Stop! She pleaded in her mind, Merlin, please stop and wait for us! Her muted please changed nothing as Charlie continued to move forward.

Steam spewed from the creature's nostrils. The yellow slit-like eyes of the dragon studied Charlie's every move and a warm glow radiated in the winged-lizard's throat. Claire forced herself up, the debris clear from her eyes. Her finger's raced across her face to check from any bleeding, but found none. Claire was certain she'd missed something though as Charlie's actions left her certain she'd obtained some head trauma. To her complete disbelief, the wizard dropped his wand, and from his lips, and atrocious clicking sound emerged.

Fleur ran to the boy, but he lifted his hand stopping her in place. Once more, Charlie repeated the sound, and this time, the dragon stepped back. The redness in its throat faded, and from its lips emerged a sound similar to Charlie's. Is he, speaking to it? Claire thought, is that even possible?

The smoke had cleared from the previous attack, and through all that, Charlie continued to click back and forth with the dragon. Claire watched without sound, not making a move, less she irritate the beast. Like a statue, Claire stood and watched the exchange in breathless confusion. Then, Charlie lifted his hand once more and waved the two over. Claire wanted to scream that she was doing just fine where she was, but she had a feeling it wasn't up for discussion.

Hesitation laced every single one of her moves. Her knuckles whitened around her wand, the shield charm's incantation on her lips. Fleur followed suit and soon, the two of them were at the dragon tamer's side. Carefully, Charlie bent down and with a wave of his wand, transfigured a nearby pile of stones into a goat. The dragon's eyes widened and with the snapping speed of a snake, took the goats head right off.

A low, controlled stream of fire splashed from the dragon's pursed lips and Claire blinked at the delicate care it took in cooking the goat before swallowing it in one gulp. As quick the dragon's attention had shifted towards the goat, it snapped back to them. But this time, the dragon's eyes looked softer, calmer even. "Charlie," Claire whispered, not wanting to alert the dragon with her voice, "What is happening?"

"We've begun to establish trust," He muttered back. "This next hour is about to be crucial. So no matter what happens, do exactly as I say. But for now, it looks like our friend here has no desire to kill us."

"Okay," Claire said softly, "Not killing us is good." Her glance shifted between the red-head and the dragon, "So… what happens next?"

"The dance of fire," Charlie said softly. "And after that…judgement."

(Daphne P.O.V)

A warm glow radiated from Daphne's hands as she steadied her magic. Her groggy state had dissipated from the morning, though the tightness in the pit of her stomach had yet to unwind. For whatever reason, she'd awoken to Lady Morgana at her bedside, and even more frightening, the woman smiled. Daphne was proud to have been acknowledged by a witch of Morgana's caliber, but the praise was odder than the criticism.

Quicker than she'd imagined, the witch had forced her from her bed and instructed her to follow. Daphne started to grow familiar with the bends and spirals of the black stone castle, but Morgana herself was a different story. Since Daphne was a little girl, she knew the tales of the cruel Morgana. The villain of Arthurian Legend and enemy of the great Merlin. Those stories did little justice to the extent of the woman's coldness, and Daphne had just seen yet another level of it.

The young man's pleas for mercy from the witch still rang in Daphne's ears like drums. Morgana had only smiled at the man before zapping his consciousness and dropping him to the floor like a sack of potatoes. "Don't feel bad for the fool," Morgana said absently, "He was one of Merlin's pawns during our little spats. He tried to kill me once, this is almost a mercy."

"What do you want me to do with him?" Daphne asked. Her mind wandered back to her previous task of keeping a nearly dead man alive throughout the night.

"I want you to try and neutralize his core," Morgana said, her brow cocked. "That is, after all, what you came here to learn, isn't it?" A smirk stretched across her lips, "To do that, though, first you need to learn to identify the core's location."

"And how do I do that?" Daphne asked.

Morgana shrugged, "Can't say. If I told you how to do everything, what would you learn?"

"But, I-,"

"Very well," Morgana yawned, "If you need a hint, then remember this, all rivers have a source."

All rivers have a source? Daphne thought, what does that even mean?

"I will be back in a hour to check in on your progress, dove," Morgana said distantly, "Please, try not to disappoint me."

It had been thirty minutes since the witch had first left. Her mind pounded at cryptic words. In a way, it was obvious, the river was a stand in for the magic, and the source was the core, but how did that help? Her eyes flickered for a moment before sealed them shut. Maybe? Daphne wondered, her mind focused solely on the magic that hummed in her hands. Maybe if I follow my channeling back like a river to it's source, then I may just find my core. And if I find mine then- yes, it's a place to start. That's what I'll do.

A/N: Progress is being made. And good for Damyan doing something for the group! I put some old book 1 and 2 comedy in this section so I really hope you guys got a kick out of that. I've also been trying to improve my writing style so any feedback on that would also be awesome! Aside from that, if you enjoyed please be sure to Follow, Favorite, and Review! Until next time, Peace!