Warnings: A little sexual bit between two blondes, but only if you squint. Well, not really, but we'll just stick with that.

Thanks to all those who reviewed! And thanks to "Anon" who brought it to my attention that I forgot the Eruditio (the book) throughout the story. *Sheepish grin* But your comment couldn't have come at a better time because I need it in this chapter/in the future. And I haven't forgotten about the French Dark Lady. She has a special part coming up… *evil laugh*

And someone also asked about Alastor Moody. No, he is not disfigured. Remember, in Canon, he was disfigured from the First War. There was no First War in this story.

Chapter Thirty Three

Warm bare feet slowly slipped their way out of the heavy sheets before they reluctantly hung over the cold floor. His bleary eyes blinked at the clock as he wondered what woke him up, the empty spot next to him or the pounding headache that spread behind his eyes and across his skull?

James Potter rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand, grimacing in discomfort. He stumbled awkwardly from the bed, cursing under his breath as his feet curled in protest against the cold floor. Goose bumps raced across his skin, raising the small hairs on his arms and legs. The notorious Auror leaned against the wall, bracing himself as his vision raced. Usually he didn't get headaches. Hell, he couldn't remember the last time he had one. In fact, it had been years ago. Sirius and he had drunk too much one night and the next morning, James had woken up with a fierce headache.

He shuddered, his thin shoulders trembling in vulnerability. Why did he get the feeling his migraine had to do with a certain redhead?

James forced himself forward, blinking past the moisture in his eyes before grabbing his glasses on the nightstand. The world came into focus, making it easier for him to make his way out the bedroom door and down the stairs. Giving the room a quick sweep, James spied the lone figure standing in the middle of the living room, bathed in only the natural light from the nightscape.

He hesitated on the last stair, unable to grasp what he was seeing

It wasn't unusual to see Lily depressed or withdrawn, but to see her completely out of control was something he had never experienced. She stood with her shoulders thrown back and her arms lifted away from the sides of her body. If her head wasn't bowed and if her body wasn't convulsing, then James would have mistaken it for a posture full of pride. Instead, her fists were clenched, causing her veins and tendons to pop from her pale and painfully thin arms.

The woman across from him seemed oblivious to his presence. Her knee-length nightgown hung off her frame, a clear and excruciating sign at how abnormally thin she was. She too had bare feet. And although her skin seemed to faintly glow blue from the cold, she didn't appear bothered by it. And yet, she was breathing harshly, giving dry sobs in between each breath. Her long crimson hair veiled her face as she bowed her neck, hiding her expression as she made choking sounds.

James quickly stepped off from the staircase and approached his wife. "Lily?" For some reason, he felt it wise to announce his presence before he touched her. Almost as if she was a cornered animal. "Lily." He placed a steady hand on her shoulder, swallowing past his surprise at how bony it was under his touch. It had been… a very long time since they were intimate. She was usually fully clothed whenever he touched her.

She heaved a shaky breath before looking at him through lank hair that had once shown beautifully. Much to his surprise, there were no tears in her eyes, only a dark and deranged spark. "I deserve to rot in hell," she told him, her voice deep and low. It was unnaturally calm and collected for someone who just appeared as if they were losing control. Yet, her tone was almost demonic, numb, and completely cold. "No matter how many potions I ingest, I just keep getting worse… each and every day…"

"Lily," James started. He was at a loss of what to do, what to say in a situation like this.

"I want to feel remorse," she continued, staring at him as if he weren't there. "I want to feel remorse for everything that I've done. Sometimes, I do experience guilt, especially towards Izar, but I cannot make myself feel remorse for what I've done to Regulus…to you…"

He swallowed, frozen. Her tired and emotionless eyes watched his expression, almost mocking him.

"There are times I try to make myself cry. Sometimes I succeed, but I can't feel anything with the tears. They are just a product of my magic, granting me a dried-up wish." Her hands were still tightly fisted. She slowly turned her head away from him, staring numbly at the fall wall. "I know what I'm supposed to feel. I used to be able to feel. And most of my emotions these days are a product from past experiences, I don't actually feel them."

"Lily," James said again, sounding void and lost to his own ears. "Don't say that…"

"Izar," Lily mumbled gently through the fall of her oil-stained hair. "He is the only person I can feel with. It's almost if he holds the other half of me. I can feel things with him, towards him. But no one else. No matter how much I try."

It didn't make any sense to James. He shook his head, placing both hands on her shoulders. "It's your depression, Lily. Have you been taking your medication?"

Dark emerald eyes gave him a quick peek before they once again became unfocused. "I haven't been taking them, no."

He dropped his arms, taking a step back in surprise. "We need to get you to the hospital, Lily."

She shook her head, smiling lightly. "No matter what they prescribe me, I will never feel the same way I did when I was young, James." The painfully frail woman turned a shoulder on James and stared down at the carpet. "I entered your mind tonight. You had a natural Occlumency shield up and I ripped right past it because my fierce protection of Izar outweighed my concern for you. I had to know what Albus had planned for him and I had to be prepared."

James grimaced, feeling something heavy in both his chest and stomach. Her words hurt him, but he would never admit it to her. He didn't know what it was like to have a child. He could not fault Lily for her thoughts, no matter how cold and rigid they were.

"And I did damage to your mind," she continued. "I realized, afterward, that I could have seriously hurt you. And you know what? I didn't feel a thing."

James turned away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Why do you continue to torture yourself?" Lily asked his turned back. "Why do you continue to love and support a woman who cannot feel anything toward you? Who cannot love you back with just as much vigor?"

James opened his eyes, feeling a dry and painful lump in his throat. He whirled around, reaching out to cup Lily's face with both his hands. His warm palms all but melted against her cool skin, but he didn't care. He kept a solid and firm hold on her, stepping closer and inhaling the smell of her. With his larger body, he sheltered her smaller one, vowing to protect her.

"Because I have always loved you."

{Death of Today}

Draco stared into the fireplace, trying to imagine himself at the Malfoy Manor with his mother sitting next to him and his father sitting in an armchair across from them. His father would always have his reading glasses on, only feeling comfortable in his own home to put them on and admit that he needed them. Draco would always make fun of him and his vanity, but in the end, his mother would always shush him with a warm hand curling affectionately into his hair.

But he wasn't at the manor. He was in the Slytherin Common Room, sitting on a cold leather sofa while the rest of his housemates were sleeping. It was in the middle of the night, and by all means, he should be on his second cycle of sleep. But this anxiety he felt was at its highest. Something was going to happen soon, he could feel it. Merlin, everyone could feel it at Hogwarts. The students would stare out into the grey skies, waiting for it to snow, but the clouds never once released a snowflake.

To make matters worse, he wasn't in contact with his father or mother. The last thing he heard from them was that they were leaving the manor and not returning until after the war. The Prophet labeled them as fugitives from the law and Draco had to sit by and listen as his family name was continuously slandered. The students constantly walked by him and insulted him. The professors looked over their glasses at him.

Draco took it in stride, never once showing his true feelings on the subject. After all, he was the only Malfoy in the public eye right now. He was constantly seen with an upturned nose and a raised chin. No one ever knew there was a deep sadness and fright residing within him.

Well, almost no one. She knew. Daphne Greengrass could somehow see right through him.

"I knew you would be down here."

Speak of the devil.

Draco cupped his hands in front of his face, turning to watch as she made her way down the stairs. For a moment, he could only stare nonsensically. She was dressed scantly in a dressing gown, showing a generous amount of cleavage and leg. She was a short and petite witch, but the gown she wore exaggerated her legs.

She was bloody gorgeous.

Daphne sniffed, sending Draco a sour look before she tightened her outer-robe closer to her body. Draco raised a single eyebrow before turning away. Despite his original dislike of Greengrass, Draco had come to view her in a new light this past year. When he first met her, he saw her as too outspoken for a woman, too wild and untamed. She always ran with Izar, making Draco jealous at the attention Izar was giving her and not him.

But, he had matured and his views on Daphne had also matured. He saw now that she was independent and remarkably witty. She was a lot like his mother, but far sexier… but that ridiculous short hair Greengrass seemed to favor… it was oddly fitting for her.

And she was a separate entity from Granger. Hermione Granger, the intelligent Ravenclaw whose looks were plain, if not on the ugly side as a child. Then again, her appearance was not what drew Draco to her. It was her intellect, her independence, her ability to raise her chin despite her dirty blood. It was also the wrongness of liking her that appealed to Draco. She was a Mudblood and he was supposed to hate her and plan her bloody demise. And yet, Draco found himself enamored with a forbidden fruit.

It was stupid of him. He saw it now. Though, there would always be a slight attachment to her that he could never shake. She was his first crush, his first obsession, aside from Izar, and also his first temptation.

"You know me too well," Draco replied back. He was distinctively aware of Greengrass sitting next to him on the couch. "What are you still doing awake?"

She clasped her hands together. The gold and diamond Greengrass ring sparkled back at the fire. "I'm anxious for the attack to come. Who can sleep at a time like this?" she said it in a coy voice, but one look at her and Draco knew she was just as uncertain as he was.

"Things will turn out for the best," he started lamely. "Besides, with Izar on our side, I'm sure Hogwarts will remain as untouched as possible." The blond boy shifted uncomfortably, remembering the day he asked… almost pleaded for Izar to convince the Dark Lord to leave the students alone if the Dark ever chose to attack Hogwarts. He just wondered if Black held enough power to ask the Dark Lord so much.

"He is pretty amazing, isn't he?" Greengrass admired tenderly.

Jealousy pricked at Draco, but he reluctantly admitted that she was right. Draco would be in Izar's debt for saving his father's life. Originally, Draco had thought that Black was like the rest of the Death Eaters. Ruthless, cruel, and unsympathetic to anyone but himself. But in the end, Izar had gone out of his way to rescue Lucius from Alastor Moody's attack.

"You're not jealous, are you?" she breathed in his ear.

He turned suddenly, catching her nose with his own. "Of course I'm not jealous, Greengrass," he exhaled in her face, finding his groin tightening with her proximity. Her enchanting green eyes taunted him, daring him to make a move. Bloody hell. Draco had tried to court her earlier in the year and she had only laughed at him before turning her cheek. Now she wanted him after he stopped advancing forward?

As if he would flame her desire to play games with him…

He faltered, his eyes dropping to her parted lips. They were smiling gently, all but inviting him forward. Draco flashed a bitter look before he leaned forward and claimed the lips zealously. She made a noise of agreement in the back of her throat, kissing him just as passionately.

Draco was painfully hard by the time he pushed her down on the couch and broke the kiss. His eyes drank her flushed expression before they dropped to the heaving breasts. Grinning madly, he leaned down, kissing the top of her breasts and licking the seductively soft flesh.

Perhaps they wouldn't be doing this if they were oblivious to the upcoming attack on Hogwarts. While they weren't told of the Dark Lord's plans to attack, they both knew, they both felt as if something was approaching. And they were taking out their anxieties by coming together and distracting one another. They both had the mind frame of not hiding in the attack. The Common Rooms may be frozen and protected, but both Daphne and Draco would fight in the battle, risking their lives for something they didn't quite understand as much as their elders.

He tugged down her nightgown, revealing the supple and generous breast. She gave a moan of approval as his mouth engulfed her nipple. Apparently she found it necessary to torment him further by wrapping her legs around his waist. Draco grunted past the flesh in his mouth, thrusting his hardness against her mound.

Merlin, she was a temptress. With her bloody moans and her wandering fingers…

He reached up and curled his hand in her damned short hair, finding himself pleasantly surprised that her blond locks were just as silky as they appeared. Draco leaned down to kiss her lips once again, finding himself completely and utterly distracted for the first time in months.

{Death of Today}

Izar turned the page, ignoring the sound of the ice cubes clinking against glass and the heated stare directed at the center of his forehead.

"What are you reading, child?"

Izar stared at the print on the crisp page, admiring the book for a moment. It hadn't been used for a good few weeks, but Izar was lucky to find it in one of the trunks that had transported here from Voldemort's old base. He remembered when Voldemort gave it to him on his fifteenth birthday. The Eruditio had just been in the fables he read about. For the Dark Lord to give him the rare tome had been a true delight. The pages were blank until he specified a subject to read about it. When he was finished, the words would disappear as well, hidden away from prying eyes.

"Nothing in particular," Izar murmured, flipping the page that described the process of creating duplicates of objects. Considering he was magic-sensitive and able to see the aura around the Gaunt ring clearly, Izar was confident he could pull this together.

The Dark Lord gave a tsk before standing. He sat directly next to Izar, leaning in closer. "I could always read those pretty thoughts of yours. Your mind would be unprotected against me."

The Black heir looked up from his book, offering the Dark Lord an exasperated look. "I'm not hiding anything from you. You've become increasingly paranoid." Izar tilted his book away from Voldemort and leaned his torso closer to the Dark Lord. "Does that mean that you're actually considering me a threat?" He offered a smile full of teeth, enjoying the narrowing eyes watching him.

"You'll never win," the Dark Lord mused. He sipped at his drink, keeping his attention on Izar all the while. "I can guarantee you that. Especially this game."

Izar lifted an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware we were currently engaged in a game." He leaned back once again, tightening his hold on his book. Voldemort's words upset him. The man was just too arrogant, too confident. It made Izar's determination heighten in regards to this whole death experience. "I better get on it then," he pondered dryly. "What is the objective of this game?"

Suddenly, his jaw was taken roughly by a controlling and furious Dark Lord. The book in Izar's hands dropped to his lap as his face was thrust closer to Voldemort's. His crimson eyes were unnaturally bright tonight as they pierced Izar straight through, almost taking the younger off-guard.

Before the Dark Lord had a chance to open his mouth, Izar reacted out of instinct and knocked the man away. The tumbler in the Dark Lord's hand fell to the ground, smashing with a deafening shatter. Izar stood from his position on the couch and angrily stopped before the fireplace, keeping a mental note on the man's whereabouts at his back.

They both stayed silent as a heavy air of anger and melancholy cloaked the room. Izar swallowed thickly, sighing. He pressed his hand against the cold mantle of the fireplace, keeping his eyes on the low flames. Behind him, he was aware of Voldemort staying rooted on the couch.

"You haven't pressed the topic about the children at Hogwarts," the Dark Lord began.

It surprised Izar that Voldemort would willingly change the subject. Yet, he controlled himself expertly and cocked his head to the side. "If I press the topic," he started, "I know that you'll have me beg to keep the children out of the battle. So I'll remain quiet and hope your infatuation with me will make you reconsider."

The man chuckled, yet it lacked its normal sadistic humor. If Izar turned around, he knew the smile wouldn't have any chance of meeting the crimson eyes.

"It's amusing to hear you define them as children when you, yourself, are only sixteen."

"Yes," Izar growled. "You don't need to remind me that I'll be sixteen forever." Or, as long as he lived.

The Dark Lord remained silent once again, left behind in the after effects of Izar's cold tone. The man then stood up, his boots crunching the broken glass on the wood floor. Slowly, as if gauging Izar's reaction, Voldemort encircled his arms around the smaller body and embraced him from behind. Voldemort blew on Izar's ear and cheek, caressing his nose and lips across Izar's hairline.

"You are not yourself, child. It pains me." A tongue flickered out and traced the outer-shell of Izar's ear. "Something is obviously weighing heavily on your mind," the man ridiculed in a mocking-like tone.

Izar kept his face turned stubbornly away, but allowing the action. And then… Voldemort asked something so startling that Izar became limp in the man's hold.

"Are you unhappy with me?"

The Black heir grimaced, suddenly feeling claustrophobic and crowded. He rolled his head away from the dancing lips, feeling his stomach contrast. Was he happy with Voldemort? He told Regulus he was, but Izar realized he had never really thought about his true feelings on the matter. He never thought deeply about them. And he refused to do it now. Not when he was pressured and too full of conspiracies against the man in question.

"No," Izar found himself admitting truthfully. He turned, catching the wandering lips with his own briefly. "I'm not unhappy. I just wished circumstances would be different." He pulled away from the hold, offering the man a tight smirk behind his shoulder. "You should rest for the battle tomorrow. After all, this is your chance to shine, My Lord."

{Death of Today}

"Are the posts secured?" Rufus barked over his shoulder. The man trailing behind him tripped over his robes, stumbled, but remained upright.

"Yes, Minister, sir," the secretary pushed up his glasses. "The Aurors are centered around Hogwarts' wards as we speak. Security has been at its highest since Black escaped from our holding cells. Dumbledore has sent word, asking for extra men around the perimeter tonight."

"And?" Rufus pressed as he limped, but all the while, he managed to out-pace the younger wizard behind him. "I trust you cooperated and sent the required men?"

"I did," Jenkins replied stiffly, as if insulted Rufus would think any different.

Rufus grunted in affirmative, choosing to say little in regards of the topic. He tightened his light grey cloak around his body before making his way across the floors of the Ministry and toward his office. It burned his pride to be working with Albus Dumbledore and taking orders from the old man. And to have his Aurors sent over like hired hands was also difficult to swallow. Working with a Lord had never been on Rufus' list of necessary measures when dealing with another Lord. He felt like the common middle-man, being used as a stepping stone for both men.

Voldemort and Dumbledore believed this to be their war. Good against evil. White versus black. Light versus Dark. It was always this way with Lords. And while Rufus could see Izar Black as the most prospective Grey Lord, the boy was far too under Riddle's thumb to step out and do anything about the war at the moment. At any rate, Black would be a Lord and Rufus couldn't rely on another dictator to be thrown in the mix.

In the end, if he wanted things done properly, he had to do it himself. This fell on his shoulders. The society, and the country as a whole, should be run by the people. Not Lords. The government would always be the ruler. Rufus had already slaved his way through the Departments in his Ministry and cleansed out as much as the deceit as he could find. Granted, he knew he could never truly find all the heavy manipulators and all the corruption, but it was a start.

And he would be damned if he was stopped short in his goals by a Lord, whether that be Dumbledore or Voldemort.

Yes, for now he was working alongside Albus. But it was only skin deep. The old Headmaster was lending his men and Rufus was lending his own men. It seemed like a common cause. Bring down Lord Voldemort and his army, stopping this havoc the Dark Lord uprooted in Britain.

Dumbledore did not need to know Rufus had his own plan beneath the surface. Hogwarts would soon be run by the government. A man of such power should never run a school, influencing the students so closely and making the children view the world as good and evil. Everyone was grey. Even the almighty Albus Dumbledore had flaws that would tarnish that bright aura of prestige he liked to wrap himself around. And the same went with the Dark. Izar Black was an excellent example. He was considered evil and dark to many, but the boy had morals and a small sliver of humanity. It lightened his cloak to a solid grey.

Rufus curled his lip, pushing himself to his office with Jenkins following at his heels. He hated what he had become during his time in office. Life had been much easier when he was Head of the Auror division. Then again, his views had been tunneled back then. While he dabbled with a few Dark Art spells, they had been used cautiously and only if he desperately needed them. He had believed the Dark Arts to be corrupt. Light Magic was superior and better for the soul.

And while that was the case, and most wizards had trouble controlling the Dark, it didn't necessarily make that branch of magic bad. What branch of magic a witch or wizard preferred to practice didn't define them; it was what they did with the magic. It was their actions that defined them.

The children nowadays and back when he was growing up, had all been taught that the world was strictly black and white. Those who used the Dark Arts were evil and those who practiced the Light Arts must be entirely good.

It had to change.

And Rufus despised himself for thinking so openly… for agreeing with Tom Marvolo Riddle's endless speeches to the presses. Rufus wasn't an idiot. It may have taken him a long while to accept the fact that Riddle was the Dark Lord, but he unraveled the man's motives. Voldemort and Tom Riddle were two people to the world. Tom Riddle would save the world by kicking Rufus out of office and getting rid of Voldemort by making changes to society.

Rufus rubbed the bridge of his nose, pressing his eyes closed. He had been used as a pawn. He still was. The only reason he hadn't been assassinated by the Dark Army was because Tom Riddle needed him alive in order to pass his position as Minister to him.

Clever. And Rufus reluctantly respected what Riddle had planned for the changing society. But that didn't mean Rufus agreed on the man's methods. Take out all the raids and killings, Voldemort was going about this cunningly. His scheme would make the public less inclined to protest against the sudden changes to their society, but the killings were unmoral. What was to say Riddle didn't plan on leaning Britain closer to the darker side than the grey like Rufus had imagined? If the Dark Lord was dark, clearly his rule would be full of corruption.

Rufus couldn't allow the Dark Lord to win. He wouldn't allow his limbs to be manipulated by Riddle's strings any longer. Hence the reason he called upon a dangerous, but useful ally. Not even Dumbledore was aware of Rufus' associates. The Dark Army would be crushed.

He only asked for one individual to be spared.

It wouldn't surprise anyone to hear Rufus wanted Izar Black to be spared. He supposed it may have been an unhealthy obsession. But whenever he looked at the boy, he thought of a tragedy. The wizard had so much potential. And he was still so young. Rufus had yet to discern what he wanted to do with the boy. It depended on what transpired in the next few days. It certainly gave him time to construct a prison that would hold the magic-sensitive boy.

Aside from the unwarranted killings, the boy's escape from the Ministry had been… most impressive. Magic-sensitives weren't known to have the ability to drain magic or cut off a wizard's core. Such potential, such power and intelligence could be a value to Rufus. And the boy was charming. A true politician.

And yet, Rufus had to accept the fact that Izar was also dangerous and apparently raised by the Dark Lord. Though, Izar was strong enough to hold his own beliefs and morals. In his past duels, Izar had never drained his enemy's cores to gain the extra advantage. Any child who was raised by a Dark Lord shouldn't think twice about playing fair.

Yet Izar did.

"Headmaster Dumbledore indicated that there have been a few sightings of Death Eaters around the wards earlier today," Jenkins started hesitantly behind Rufus. The two crossed the boundary into Rufus' office.

"It doesn't surprise me," Rufus murmured, sitting at his chair. "Izar Black was captured around the Hogwarts' wards only a few days ago. He is known to be able to drain magic and rip away wards faster and more efficient than any other Ward Breaker."

The dark blond man sat at the chair across from Rufus, staring at him with wide, naïve eyes. "Do you reckon they'll break through the wards?" The aid glanced down at his disarrayed suit in contemplation. "They wouldn't be stupid enough to attack when there are so many Aurors around the perimeter."

"No," Rufus agreed darkly. "But the boy has been known to do the impossible."

As the words escaped his mouth, the lights dimmed in the Ministry before an alarm sounded. Rufus stood suddenly, grabbing the desk in front of him quickly to give himself balance when the whole Ministry trembled. Rufus could only stare at the wall across from him, unable to comprehend the current situation.

What if Hogwarts hadn't been their goal? What if it was the Ministry that they wanted to tear down? Rufus' men were around Hogwarts currently. There was no force, no army here to guard the walls of the Ministry.

Rufus clenched his jaw, trying to identify if this was a ruse or the Dark's true plan. It would make sense for the Dark Lord to draw attention around Hogwarts and then successfully pull Rufus' forces away from base. It was like that two-faced politician to think two steps ahead.

"Damn it!" Rufus growled, slamming his fist down. He would be damned if he lost this war.

{Death of Today}

"They're leaving," Lestrange noted in glee. "They're leaving. Just as we planned." The man laughed softly.

"We?" Crouch Junior questioned in hilarity. "It was the Dark Lord's idea, fool. Not yours. Not ours."

Let the men think Voldemort came up with the plan. They were all in the room the time Izar presented his idea and they all knew he was the one to come up with the plan. He didn't care who was given credit, just as long as his plan worked out. Amusing, though, that the Death Eaters pinned Voldemort as the one to come up with the plan. The Dark Lord was against this from the start.

He cast a lazy glance toward the Hogwarts perimeter, watching from the folds of his hood as the Aurors began to slowly Disapparate away. After all, the entire Dark Army was currently attacking the Ministry. Well, everyone but three figures, both of whom were in the Inner-Circle and currently sitting in the woods on thick tree branches.

Izar pulled his leather gloves fully over his hands, causing the material to squelch. "If you both continue nattering, then all of this will be for naught," he warned with a lethal hiss. Despite not being able to sense any magical signatures below them or close in the woods, Izar wasn't foolish to speak on the top of his lungs. There was also the prospect of creatures acting as spies for the Headmaster. Not that Izar couldn't handle Albus. He just wanted the Aurors away from the wards.

Ignoring the glowering looks from Rabastan and Barty, Izar jumped from his position on the branch before landing on the ground. He made sure their current location was near the entrance of Hogwarts and near the iron-rod gates. It was where Izar discovered the knot to the wards. And luckily, the palm-sized knot was still in its current position, looking just as beautiful and impressive as the first time he had seen it. His fingers danced toward it, wanting to caress the small shocks of color that danced inside it.

Izar stood motionless, listening to the continuous cracks of Disapparation sounding around the wards. Most the Aurors were gone, having been drawn away from Hogwarts in order to defend the Ministry. He wished they would hurry. The tantalizing magic in front of him made his hand inch closer and closer.

He stared up at the sky, past the half-dome of wards and toward the pitch-black sky. A light smile played his lips as he witnessed the snow fall. The night was simply beautiful; full of magic, full of fear and anticipation, full of prospective futures being laid out. There would be suffering tonight, fierce battles, and he couldn't wait.

Lestrange and Crouch Junior jumped down from their own position, approaching Izar when their Marks began to tingle.

It was finally time. Apparently the number of Aurors was accounted for. The plan was simple. Lure the Aurors to the Ministry by attacking the powerhouse, all the while, giving Izar enough time and space to tear down the anti-Apparation wards. When Izar completed his task, he would touch his wand to his Dark Mark and alert Voldemort and the rest of the Death Eaters that they could Apparate to Hogwarts safely.

"Cover my back this time, will you?" Izar asked cheekily over his shoulder at toward the two Death Eaters. Izar had his own golden mask on. It would be best if no one recognized his face any more than they had to. When Voldemort became Minister he would pull strings to clear the names of his Death Eaters. It would make things harder if Izar was continuously seen at attacks, especially this attack tonight.

Barty grunted. "Just hurry up, Black. This place gives me the creeps."

Deciding to omit a sarcastic remark, Izar turned back to the wards. Lifting a hand, he reached toward the wards and gently caressed the magic. His body trembled in pleasure and his eyes began to close in exhilaration. The wards under his gloved hands purred at his touch, bucking against him like a cat begging for a stroke. Izar complied, stroking the knot and the ancient wards. It felt exhilarating, this feeling. Magic this old and powerful was delicious. It could easily consume him if Izar wasn't careful enough.

Slowly, his fingers worked the knot, cooing and whispering words of endearment. The knot began to slowly loosen, making the blanket of wards around Hogwarts easier to identify with their different properties. The anti-Apparation wards were gradually coming into focus and Izar kept an eye on them through lowered lids. There were at least five different anti-Apparation wards layered on top of each other. But there was also many categories of protective charms, too many to shred. It would be best to unravel the knot completely and then tug the blanket of wards with one sharp pull.

The knot sighed before unraveling underneath Izar's manipulative hands. The Black heir tipped his head back, pulling at the loose ends. Around Hogwarts, the atmosphere seemed to groan loudly and the snow began to fall quicker. The golden dome of wards blinked and lightening veined through them, visible to anyone, not just magic-sensitives.

Izar clenched his jaw, curling his hands around the anti-Apparation wards and tugging. He breathed heavily as it resisted at first, bucking against him, but it was unable to resist a magic-sensitive. The castle screamed as it sensed itself becoming nude and vulnerable. Despite the multiple layers of protection wards still in place, the Death Eaters should be able to Apparate now. Izar would just continue working on the other blankets of wards while they were in the process of traveling.

Keeping his left hand on the wards, he lifted his sleeve with his opposite hand and pressed his wand into his Mark. It would alert the others of his success.

Fr0m the corner of his cloudy mind, Izar was aware of another aura approaching from behind. As if drugged, he turned, watching in disbelief Rabastan fell dead next to him before Barty Crouch Junior followed with only a second of holding himself against his enemy.

The sounds of Apparation sounded and Izar was distinctively aware of the Death Eaters arriving. Through distrustful and drugged eyes, Izar watched as Dumbledore stepped out from the trees surrounding the gates of Hogwarts.

"Hello, Izar."

"Old man," Izar greeted with a slurred tongue.

{Death of Today}

Lucius landed on the grounds of Hogwarts with the rest of his comrades. Lifting his heavily cloaked arms, the blond aristocrat rejoiced in the sensation of Apparating on Hogwarts' soil. Ever since he was a boy, they would always advise the students that it was impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts' wards. Now, with Izar's aid, he was able to accomplish the impossible.

But his jubilation did not last long. Through the slits of his mask, he watched as the group of Death Eaters ran toward the castle. Much to Lucius' pleasure, they would be leaving the students out of the battle. They were only meant to do damage to the castle and attack any of the students who were foolish enough to exit the Common Rooms. Not kill.

Apparently Izar had enough control over the Dark Lord to make the man see reason.

Clutching his wand in a gloved hand, Lucius made his way with the rest of the Death Eaters. It wouldn't be long until the Aurors and Order were hot on their heels. The reason behind this attack was to push Tom Riddle into office and to destroy as many Aurors and Order members as possible. Depending on how tonight went, this could very well be the last raid.

His steps faltered when he watched the scene unfold in front of him. The few Death Eaters who began attacking the castle were thrown backward by an invisible force. Lucius felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand as he watched his companions scramble up from their backs. Something was not right.

Turning, he spied the Dark Lord standing apart from his army, taking just as much interest in the scene as Lucius had. "I thought Izar took care of the wards?" Lucius breathed to the Dark Lord. "I never imagined Hogwarts having so many protection wards."

"It doesn't," the Dark Lord hissed, turning his heel and assessing the perimeter of the castle. "Or, it never used to."

Lucius and the rest of the Death Eaters took a step back as lightening forked across them, far too low to be a result of the weather. In fact, it looked as if the lightning curved around the castle, creating an invisible dome around the perimeter. Despite the lightning being ominous, it was a rather breathtaking scene against the relentless downfall of snow.

He turned his heel, noticing the lightening originating from a location near the gates of Hogwarts.

"Do not Disapparate," the Dark Lord roared. "There is currently an anti-Apparation ward in place."

They were trapped within the wards. But that could only mean…

Lucius watched as the Dark Lord fled the courtyard and toward the gates, leaving behind an anxious and unsettled army of Death Eaters. Not caring about appearances, Lucius ran after the Dark Lord, fearing he knew what exactly what waited for him at the entrance of the castle. What other reason could the wards be acting up? This was unplanned and Izar was always very precise and stubborn. If something didn't go his way, he would go through leaps and bounds before admitting defeat.

The blond slowed as he neared the gates, staring in disbelief at the scene before him.

A Death Eater was down on all fours, his lithe body trembling in effort to remain upright. Judging from the two prone and lifeless bodies near the struggling Death Eater, Lucius could only assume it was Izar who was struggling. The boy didn't look up, his head remained bowed forward as if his skull was too heavy to support. There were small whines coming from Izar's mouth, making the boy resemble a crying pup more than the proud and confident wizard Lucius was accustomed to.

His silver eyes swept sideways toward the Dark Lord. The wizard came to a stop directly next to Izar. It was clear that the Dark Lord could go no further. There was a visible barrier standing between him and his lover, and yet, the man made no sign of distress as Izar crooned at his feet deliriously.

Lucius traced the wards with his eyes, wondering if this was what Izar saw. There was a solid gold dome around Hogwarts' perimeter with lightening forking across the wards. The only upsetting thing about it was that Izar seemed to be covered with the wards himself and the lightening steamed from him, looking as if it were bringing him more pain.

"Creative, old fool," the Dark Lord hissed darkly. "What do you call this now?"

Lucius stiffened, finally catching sight of the other wizard. Albus Dumbledore stood outside Hogwarts' wards, on the other side of the barrier. His wand was trained lazily on Izar, igniting a sharp fury in Lucius.

"A charm I've created especially for Mr. Black, Tom." Dumbledore, the old coot, frowned sadly. "It's not something I am proud of, but nonetheless—"

Izar cried out hoarsely when the Dark Lord attacked the wards viciously. Lucius stumbled backward, taken off-guard by the aftermath of the Dark Lord's magic. The man's magic struck the wards, only to be rebounded back at them. Of course, the Dark Lord whirled around effortlessly, his cloak and appearance just as suave as it was before, as if he hadn't dodged so quickly. Lucius adjusted his stance, staring suspiciously at the wards and Izar. Apparently anything cast at the wards affected Izar just as much.

The Dark Lord breathed fiercely through his nostrils, stalking the barrier like that of a caged animal. "What did you do?" the Dark Lord whispered dangerously.

Dumbledore cupped his hands together in front of his body, assessing the fallen and whimpering figure of Izar. "What better way to serve his immortality than by protecting Hogwarts?"

Lucius stiffened, not realizing Dumbledore knew of Izar's immortality. Looking over his shoulder, he assessed the approaching Death Eaters. They were too far out of earshot to hear the old fool's statement.

"You see," Dumbledore continued. "I made it possible for Izar is become part of the wards. Because he is magic-sensitive, the ancient magic is able to bond with him like no other wizard before him. It recognizes Izar as a companion and it will continue to eat away at him until there is nothing but Izar's essence. No physical body will be left behind and Izar will be one with the wards. His immortality will allow him to protect Hogwarts for as long as it stands."

Lucius placed a hand to his mouth, feeling ill. His eyes traced Izar's trembling form, noticing the boy's body slowly begin to fade. What a cruel fate. Not death, not life, but an endless existence as an essence and a mere protector for a castle.

Casting a side-long glance at the Dark Lord, Lucius was quick enough to spy the crimson eyes widening a fraction.

"That's impossible, old fool," the Dark Lord called Dumbledore's bluff.

Dumbledore only smiled grimly. "I'm afraid it's not, Tom. There is only a few minutes left before the wards eat Izar's physical entity completely. And I'm afraid there is nothing you can do to stop it."

The Dark Lord stared at Dumbledore with ice-like impassiveness. The aura around the wizard began to darken, chilling even Lucius at its intensity.

"Tom Riddle may not be able to do anything," a voice announced from the trees. "But I can. And I will."

Lucius turned his attention on the tree line, watching in suppressed astonishment as none other than Lily Potter stepped out from the shadows. She was cloaked in black, the thick material clashing horribly with her bone-white face. The witch's red hair appeared black in the dark lighting and her face was a mask of complete indifference. And yet, the more Lucius stared at her composed and determined expression, the more he realized that she resembled her son in many ways. Perhaps Izar wasn't all Black.

Dumbledore appeared forlorn as he watched her approach him from over his shoulder. It was clear that the Headmaster didn't view Lily Potter, the petite witch, a threat. "Lily…" he started sadly before turning in her direction. "You don't want to do this."

Much to Lucius' surprise, the woman didn't even flinch at the man's condescending tone. Instead, an aura of darkness clung to her as she raised her wand. "You don't know anything," she breathed. Her bony wrist was steady. "I've wanted to do this for so long…"

Dumbledore raised his wand to meet hers, a resigned expression on his face. Before he could attack the small witch, another figure made his appearance. This time, the newcomer took position at Dumbledore's back.

It took Lucius a few blinks to comprehend that James Potter was holding his wand to Dumbledore's head.


{Notes} A shorter chapter, yes. But it was either a short chapter or no chapter. :) Thanks everyone!