A/N: Three Almost Back to Back Chapter Ain't Bad Right? Hopefully I'll be able to get up a couple more before my schedule gets cramped again! If you enjoy please be sure to Follow, Favorite, and Review!

Chapter XXII: The Witch's Return

(Michael P.O.V)

Rain fell like tears down Michael's bedroom window. The full moon glowed brightly through the clouded sky into the dark room where Claire slept soundly in their bed. Remus howls from the basement shook the wooden walls gently. It did so much as interrupt the sleep of the Order now; it was almost a comfort even. They'd be weak tomorrow; Bones had counted on it to be so. If they had a chance of surviving the werewolf encounter, tomorrow night would give them their best odds.

Michael rolled a thin tube of cut silver through his fingers. Sweat beat from his brow, and his core pulsed rapidly. The armor upgrade hadn't come as quickly as he'd hoped. Silver adorned the knuckles of the gauntlet now. The added protection was minimal but better than nothing. With a snap, he shrunk the armor and stuffed it back into the travel bag. He glanced back towards the window, "Merlin, this never gets easier."

A soft knock on the door pulled his focus. Quietly, he tiptoed to the door and cracked it a tad. The green eyes, though dulled behind the door, were unmistakable. Swiftly, Michael opened the door and closed it behind him, the two now in the dark hallway of Twelve Grimmauld Place. "Little late for a visit, don't you think mate?"

"I needed to talk to you alone," Harry said. The former Gryffindor's voice was raspy. It had been weeks since Harry had come down with his flu, but the raven-haired wizard looked worse than ever. "It's about tomorrow."

"Right then," The blue-haired boy stretched his arm out, "Lead the way then."

Michael regretted his choice instantly. Harry moved like a man older than Dumbledore. Every step ailed him, and a myriad of hushed hisses and groans followed every motion. It felt as if an hour had passed before the two finally reached the kitchen and took their seats.

All color had drained from Harry's face except an exhausted redness. His hair looked drier than before, and his muscle tone had nearly faded completely. Together, the two sat in silence until Michael couldn't hold it back any longer. "Merlin's sake Potter, what's really going on with you? You look like shit."

"I feel like shit," Harry chuckled. Suddenly, a cough ripped itself from the Boy-Who-Lived's lungs. Frantically, Harry seemed to search himself for something to cover his mouth. The efforts were in vain as blood jumped from his mouth onto the kitchen table. "Damn."

"Rook?" Michael said softly, "I'm not an idiot. I know this is more than a simple flu. Everyone knows it's more than the flu. So come clean, and be honest, did something happen to you?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I've talked to Madam Bones about it. She thinks there's something in the Ministry that can help me with whatever happened." Michael smiled. The weight on his chest shifted, and he felt once more like he could breathe. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning with her to get this cure or whatever. That's why I needed to talk to you. After tomorrow, the war will move into its final stages, and it's going to move fast."

"Yeah, probably," Michael nodded. "Have you already talked to Sirius?"

Harry shook his head, "No, and I'm not planning to." Michael blinked quickly. "If I told him I was sick with something worse than the flu and leaving to get treatment, he'd insist on knowing everything and worse coming with me. That would be a bad look for the Order. If I just up and vanished without telling anyone, that would also be a bad look. So I'm telling you. I trust you more than anyone other than Sirius. That's why I need to give you one last instruction."

"What is it?"

Harry slid a pile of papers across the table. Michael picked them up and studied them. His brow furrowed at the sheets. "These are blank? What do you want me to do with them?"

"Well, so long as they're blank, do nothing with them," Harry said. "But as soon as any writing appears on them, you follow the instructions on them as if they were commands given directly by me."

"Why would words suddenly appear on them?" Michael asked. "What condition has to be met to make them visible?"

"A rather simple one, actually," Harry said faintly. "I have to be dead."

"What the fuck are you planning that dying seems like such a possibility you went through the trouble of writing paperwork?" Michael's fist curled, "Because if this is some kind of fucked up suicide note, I'm burning this shit right here and now."

"It's not a suicide note, and they can't be burnt," Harry said. "I'm just trying to be prepared for a worst possible scenario. If I'm attacked and can't defend myself, or if my treatment fails, I need someone I trust to give orders. Someone who I believe will be able to keep their head at the news of my death. You're the only person in the Order who I can give that to in confidence." Harry looked tiredly up at him. "Am I wrong in that assumption?"

"No," Michael replied. "But it doesn't matter anyway. You're not going to die. You're the Bloody Boy-Who-Lived. Wouldn't be much of a title if you died."

Harry chuckled and waived over two butterbeers. The two smiled and clinked together their bottlenecks, "To a long life then," Harry said.

"And a peaceful one at that," Michael added before together, they downed the bottles. The emptied bottles rested atop the table, and once more, a deep silence filled the kitchen. "So, that's it then. You'll be gone in the morning?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Before anyone wakes."

"Any messages you want me to pass on to anyone in particular?"

"No one in particular," Harry said. "Just, tell them all that I'm sorry."

"Nobody's going to blame you for wanting to get some treatment before the big fight," Michael pushed back.

"All the same," Harry said, "Just tell them, okay?"

"Yeah, Rook," Michael nodded, "Sure thing." With a groan, he stretched out his body and yawned. "Alright then, now, you have an earlier morning than me, but how about we go ahead and get as much sleep as we can then."

"Right then," Harry said, "Goodnight, Chipper."

"Night, Rook."

The morning larks chirped the moment Michael's head fell to his pillow. With a yawn, he rubbed the crust from his eyes. His head throbbed like an anvil struck by a hammer. The night before was little more than a blur. Part of Michael even doubted it happened. The doubt died at the sight of the paper stack atop his desk. He swallowed hard; it hadn't been a dream after all.

Claire's hand tapped his back. The woman looked gorgeous, even when her hair was a tangled web and her eyes were far from even half-open. "Good morning," she mumbled. Michael kissed her softly, her gentle moans ecstasy to his ears. A thin smile graced her lips when they parted before she clutched his wrist. "I heard Harry outside last night but went back to sleep. Is everything alright?"

Michael nodded, "Yeah, at least, I think so."

"What did he want to talk to you about?" Claire asked.

Michael kissed her again, "It was nothing. You know Harry, always trying to apologize for sending us out on missions. He's going to be out to get some treatment for whatever sickness he has, but he'll be back tomorrow or the day after."

"That Harry," Claire chuckled. "I'm glad he's finally taking care of himself."

Michael's eyes wandered back to the blank stack of papers, "Yeah, me too."

The breakfast table was a chaotic mess. Sirius raced through the house like a bloodhound after a missing scent. Remus rested weakly in his chair by Order of his wife, while the others looked to each other with lost gazes. Michael had no sooner stepped into the kitchen before Sirius gripped his shoulder. "Michael!" He shouted, "Harry's gone! I'm not sure how it happened, but the Dark Lord must have had somebody inside. He-"

"Relax, Sirius, I know what happened to Harry," Michael said. Sirius looked ready to drop to his knees in relief. The eyes of the entire room fell to him like a fall of arrows. He cleared his throat with a heavy grunt. "Okay, so last night, Harry came to tell me that he and the Minister were going to step away for a couple of days to fix whatever's been making him feel so sickly. He came to me because he didn't want to endure the thousands of questions he knew he'd get from all of you, especially when he didn't have an explanation for them. However, before he left, he gave me clear instructions to proceed with our plans as scheduled. We're moving into the endgame now, and we need to be laser-focused on the next couple of moves."

"When will he be back?" Remus coughed.

"A few days time, he reckons," Michael answered.

"That child," Emmeline said with a shake of her head. "His efforts not to worry us are in good conscious, but he certainly fails every time he tries." The silver-haired witch took Sirius' hand in hers and smiled, "Come now, love. Harry will be alright. Let's try to get in some breakfast now, yes?"

"Right, breakfast," Sirius said faintly, "Breakfast is good."

Harry hadn't lied that his absence would bring about questions. Worse, Michael's patience for answering them grew thinner by the minute. The sun hung low in the sky, and the moonlight would soon arrive in the black, cloudy sky. Kingsly and Bill Weasley had arrived at the Grimmauld Place with the vials of Polyjuice Potion under Minister Bones' instruction just before sunset. The scent filled Michael with disgust.

Carefully, he handed out the vials. Claire and Fleur took theirs, as did Damyan. Michael held the two remaining vials out before Kingsley himself took one into his hand, and Bill Weasley took the last. The red-head sent Fleur a sheepish smile that brought a blush to the French-Veela's face. Michael almost laughed; to see Fleur flustered was something he could hardly imagine.

"Everyone clear on the plan?" Michael asked. The group nodded in unison. "Simple burn and body drop after. Let's do this quickly and without incident. Fight only if you have to; we're not looking to engage the enemy."

"My agent in the camps has already set a portkey up to take us to Epping Forest. From there, we start a contained forest fire. I repeat, we are not trying to burn the whole place down; we want to keep it just to the sacred grounds. Look for a wall of bones to know when you've passed the restricted area. Once you've done your damage, simply tap the portkey with your wand, and you'll be brought back here. Clear?" Kingsley added.

"Crystal," Michael echoed.

"Very well then," Kingsley said, "Shall we begin?"

Michael no sooner left the doors of the manor before a weakened hand gripped his wrist. "Corner," The voice muttered weakly. Michael turned to face the sickly witch, her vibrant, ever changing eyes dim and tired. Astoria Greengrass stood behind him, a shiver present through her entire body. "Look, I- Damyan. I know you vouched for him, and I don't think he's weak or anything, I just- promise me okay, promise me you'll bring him back."

"Look at you growing a heart pint-size," Michael smirked. "He's a member of my squad, Astoria. I'm going to bring him back."

"Right, sorry," Astoria whispered. "It's just between my sister, and now Harry I-,"

"Yeah, I know." Michael nodded, his eyes set on the dark sky, "Well, I should be off now. Timing is everything."

Astoria nodded, "Good luck, Corner."

(Claire P.O.V)

The cold winds blew overhead. Chills raced down Claire's spine at the distant howls. Bloodstains coated the ground mixed with fallen leaves and broken twigs. The scent of blood was unmistakable; there'd been a massacre the previous night. The only question was, what had been killed? She reached her hand out to Michael but stopped herself; it wasn't worth the risk. Together, the six wizards waded through the broken and dead trees until they'd come upon a wall of clean plucked bones.

"Charming," Michael whispered. From the trees, a battered man shuffled out. Scars stretched across his face from his left eye to his right cheek. His hair was far more grey than a man of his young age should have been, and an unending shiver raced up and down the man's body.

A growl built in his throat but ceased at Michael's face. "Ah, one of Carmilla's is it?" He bared his teeth at their sight, "This is sacred grown to Fenrir, you're kind isn't welcomed here."

"We have business that requires our passage through this forest," Michael said. "Let us through, and there will be no trouble."

"And I thought I told you, that there's absolutely no way that a couple of filthy bloodsuckers are coming through our-," The beast fell silent at the touch of Michael's wand to the creature's neck. "Are you out of your mind? Fenrir will not forgive this should you act. It'll be the end for you and your clan."

"Do you think that frightens us?" Michael hissed. "Do you think that my noble species is anything like you pack of filthy fucking mongrels? We are royal blood, and you're nothing but overgrown dogs. Don't ever assume you can give us orders." Michael pressed his wand deeper into the creature's neck. "Now, let us pass, alright?"

"Fuck. You," The beast hissed.

"Very well," Michael sighed, "Diffindo." Blood gushed from the man beast's cheek like a geyser. The disguised Ravenclaw covered his mouth, blocking moans of pain from close by ears until the man stopped screaming. "Now then. I'm going to burn this forest to the fucking ground in the name of our queen with the consent of Lord Voldemort. You, are going to go and report what happened here to our queen so that she knows the jobs been done? Understand?"

The werewolf snarled back and was met with a backhand that echoed through the trees, "I said, do you understand, dog?" Slowly, Michael reached his hand for the werewolf's wand and snapped it in two. Lazily, he threw it deeper into the woods and smiled, "Now then, go fetch, dog."

"You bloodsucking bastards!" The werewolf hissed. "You won't get away with this."

"I thought I told you to fetch," Michael said with a kick to the beast's chest. "I won't ask again."

With a final glare, the werewolf scurried into the woods. Michael's shoulders dropped, "Damn, that was stressful," he muttered. Claire smiled at him before he turned back to the bone-filled gate. "Alright then, he'll probably alert his pack on the way to report what happened here, so we don't have long." The Ravenclaw snapped his gauntlet to him, and a blue glow radiated from his armored hand, "Let's burn this pit down."

A blue flame flickered in Claire's hand. She trembled at the vast darkness before her, the only other light from the fire in Fleur's hands. "As soon as we start, the enemy will know we're here and come in full force. Damyan, Kingsley, and Bill, I need you three to provide cover from any incoming forces. They'll be weakened, but we can't afford to get complacent." The crew nodded at Michael's words before a fire burned in the blue-haired boy's hand, "Very well, let's begin."

Heat pounded on her skin after the first toss. The dead trees took to fire like a phoenix. The wind blew burnt tinder from tree to tree, and the ocean of flames spread by the second. Howls blared in the distance. Cold, menacing yells sent chills down her spine. Smoke clouded the sky, the new moon invisible beyond the darkened layer. Claire blinked, above she saw the sky move, then, like a meteor, smoke clouds descended upon them.

Michael pushed her down just as one swooped towards her. "Incoming!" He yelled. A volley of red and blue fired up into the sky. Thuds of fallen soldiers hit the ground with skin-crawling cracks. Claire forced her flames to the back of her hand and sliced at the air, sending a ring of fire into the oncoming attackers who howled at their newly formed burns. "Fall back!" Michael shouted, "Fall back!"

Claire scrambled to keep pace with Fleur and Bill, who sprinted towards the bone gates. Fire and light sparked through the cloudy skies over Michael's head. Michael turned and shot pulses of blasting curses into the air, but to cover was too thin. "Move it!" Michael shouted. "You've got to-"

A cloud of smoke plowed into his side and sent him rolling as four of Fenrir's recruits surrounded him.

"Well, look what we have here boys," The leader of the four said, "A vamp." They licked their lips with sadistic grins, "Let's start by tearing out his eyes. I've never had vampire eyes before."

"Don't touch him!" Claire shouted before a quiver-full of silver-arrows raced towards them. One hissed as it scraped their cheek; another fell unceremoniously with an arrow in his chest. The three turned to face her with murderous glares. Claire snarled back, "Come on then, bring it."

Claire's heart pounded in her ears. The beastly man howled and gnashed his teeth as if still in his werewolf form. In a flash, the wolf pounced at her, a red glow at the tip of his wand. Claire slid her foot to the left and ducked the attack. Fire sprung into her palm, and with a roar, she hurled the ball at the man. Screams of agony erupted at the blue flame's consumption of the attacker's skin.

Burnt remains filled the air. It was enough to make Claire puke. She braced her knees to jump at the next attack before a bolt of silver struck through the second beast's chest. From behind, Michael groaned and pushed himself to his feet. "Come on Pretty Bird, time to run!"

Claire reached her hand out to him. Blood tickled between their entwined fingers with a dangerous heat. "Michael, you're-"

"Doesn't matter now," He hissed, the pain evident in his throat. "Did everyone evacuate."

"I saw Bill, Kingsley, and Fleur get away." Claire answered.

"Damyan," Michael barked, "Did you see Damyan?"

"N-no," Claire said, "I don't think so."

"Fuck," Michael dropped her hand and looked back into the flames. "Get out of here, Claire; I'm going back for him."

"You know that's a dumb idea," She pleaded, "You can't-"

"I gave Astoria my word I'd bring him back," Michael hissed, "End of discussion." With a grunt, he lifted his palm and charged his sapphire before launching a torrential stream of blue flames. "Get out of here, now!"

"Not a chance," Claire smiled, "We go together. End of discussion."

"You're exhausting," Michael smiled back. "Well then, let's go."

The forest was dark, and low hanging clouds of smoke made it impossible to see. Every second it felt as if a new wolf would jump from the black clouds from every angle. Claire's chest was ready to burst as she held back each startled yelp. How long had they been walking? Claire wondered, Where was the boy? Her mind fixated on the thoughts between the briefest moments of silence.

"Damyan!" Michael screamed only to choke on the smoke, "Where are you!"

"Maybe he evacuated," Claire provided, "Maybe he's okay."

"I can't rest on a maybe. I'm sorry." Michael said softly. "Damyan! If you're here, say something!"

"M-Michael," Claire's ears perked at the weakened voice. "Help, Michael, help."

"I hear something," Claire said. Michael turned to her, his eyes bloodshot and tired, "It was faint, but it came from over here."

"Lead the way," Michael said.

The voice was weak and grew dimmer with every response. Thankfully, it hadn't looked to have traveled far. A sudden scream blared from a distance, and the two quickened their pace. Claire stalled at the sight and swallowed hard. Fenrir Greyback had finally appeared.

The werewolf held Damyan by his neck. The damage to his body destroyed the effects of the polyjuice potion. Now the bloody, beaten boy hung limply in the air for all to see. "Hmm, polyjuice is it? So this was all a ruse then. There was no treason on the part of the vampires, was there?"

Shit, Claire hissed. How are we gonna get out of this one? "No, you're wrong," Damyan hissed. "Maybe there wasn't any contempt before, but there will be now. I was the one on the inside building the resentment, and I led the vampires here of their own free will. I was the mole in your ranks. The vampires won't forgive their losses, even if it was a ruse. My plan worked."

A grin creased the werewolf's lips, before with a slice of his nails, he slit Damyan's belly open. Michael's hand covered her mouth as the blood splattered from Damyan's core across Fenrir's face. "An idiot boy who has never told a lie. Like I was ever going to believe that."

From all around them, the forest stirred. More and more werewolves emerged from the shrubbery and burned trees until they were completely surrounded. "My nose detects more foreigners in our lands," Fenrir licked his blood-covered face, "Kill them."

From her left, a bolt of silver shot past. She blinked as Michael raced into the clearing, a fire in his eyes. Fenrir rolled from the arrows' path and chuckled. "So another reveals himself. Very well, we'll kill you first."

"You're the one dying today," Michael growled. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned his armor to his body. "I'm gonna put every last one of you down for good."

Over what must have been forty werewolves surrounded Michael on all sides. Claire watched as they circled her boyfriend, his head tracking what she could only assume to be the strongest of the circle. "Run," He shouted before a blue light formed between his two hands, "You won't be able to handle this blast!"

Claire swallowed, but she couldn't move. She didn't want to; she couldn't leave him. "Please! Claire! For the love of Merlin leave! There's a chance my armor might let me survive this, but you won't! Please!"

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stood. "I love you, Pretty Bird," He shouted, "Thank you for everything. I-"

Snap! Claire jumped at the sudden sound. From nowhere, two figures appeared beside Michael. The first was a tiny, rather exhausted-looking elf. The second was a familiar face with bright, honey blonde hair and icy blue eyes. "Don't you go blowing yourself up just yet," the voice said with a sarcastic tone, "It would be a tragedy for Harry to lose his fifth most important bond right when I get back."

"D-Daphne?" Michael stuttered, "What are you doing here?"

"We'll talk about that later; for now let's handle this situation," With a wave of her wand, a sphere of water surrounded the two Hogwarts students. Claire swallowed as Daphne waved her over before she raced into the water bubble. "I'm going to shield us from that blast of yours. Where's Damyan, I heard he was here too for some reason."

Michael said nothing. "He's right there," Claire said with a stutter, "Right at Fenrir's feet."

"Shit," Daphne whispered. With a flick, she forced the body towards them and let him through the shield. "Well, we don't leave comrades behind. No matter what. Whenever you're ready, Corner."

"Shields!" Fenrir roared to his men.

"It doesn't matter," Michael hissed, before with a blinding light, all Claire could hear was BOOM!

A/N: Guess who's back! Back again!

Lol! Well she made it, and just in time. More info coming in the next chapter. Hedwigion I'm sorry, it was planned way ahead of the review you left me. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me haha. If you enjoyed this chapter, please be sure to Follow, Favorite, and Review! Until Next Time, Peace!