The Green in the Grey

by TheBlack'sResurgence

A prophecy left unfulfilled, a family torn apart by repercussions of war and one child left to a life of neglect. But there were those not content to allow this to pass. Harry Potter may have been abandoned at the end of the war but he will rise to be more than any could have imagined. Minimal bashing, rated M for violence etc. Harry/Tonks, James/Lily Main plot begins GOF

21. Myths and Legends

Chapter 21: Myths and Legends

A/N

Another one complete. Only one chapter and an epilogue to follow before this one is done.

I know I always say it, but thank you to all of you that read, follow, favourite and review my work. I am always humbled by the kind words and feedback I receive.

TBR

Standing amongst the portraits of those that had come before him, Harry took in his reflection in the mirror that was placed in the corner of the room and nodded contentedly. He couldn't help but compare himself to the men surrounding him, the finery of the robes, the trademark black hair and the eyes in various shades of grey. None could say he looked out of place, a Black down to the finest detail.

Arcturus had insisted he make use of the Lord's solar, a place the man himself had seldom used. It was resplendent, a physical statement of the wealth and station of the family, somewhere that once had been used to host other important lords, though hadn't been in many years. Arcturus had become a recluse and the room had been left to simply gather dust. Harry had restored it to its former glory, ready for when the need arose to use it.

Today was such a day. He was not welcoming any into the home but he would be taking advantage of one of the benefits that came with being a Lord of the land. He would be using the fireplace to attend his first Wizengamot meeting, to announce his inheritance of the title bestowed upon him.

It was unlikely that many would be pleased by the news, particularly those that spent much of their lives on their hands and knees, prostrating themselves before a megalomaniac. Harry found himself relishing the thought of the surprise and outcry at his appearance in the hallowed chambers, if only to silence those beneath him the way he had been taught.

Checking his watch, he gave himself a final once over in the mirror before heading towards the fireplace. Throwing a handful of floo powder into the flames, the flared a bright green as he cleared his throat.

"Wizengamot Chambers," he called loudly and stepped in.

As a rule, he never travelled using this method if it could be avoided. As far back as he could remember, he'd had difficulties traveling through the network. His expulsion on the other side tended to be, violent, to say the least. Over the years, before he had been granted his apparition licence, he had managed to control it better but it would never be a preference. He would sooner fly across the globe than travel by floo.

He stumbled slightly as he was ejected into the chambers, chambers so full that his appearance went completely unnoticed. The room could only have been at capacity, every seat in the public gallery filled by members of the press and public luckily enough to bear witness to the spectacle of a new or permanent Minister being installed. Still, Harry's presence was not noted until he had cleared half the floor between the fireplace and the seat his family had occupied for centuries.

The first to take heed of his arrival was the Chief Warlock whose wide eyes greeted him until he composed himself with a bow in his direction. Harry returned the gesture respectfully, as was expected. It was an empty gesture on his part, finding it difficult to muster anything that resembled respect for the man that had been the cause of much of his misfortune. Dumbledore, however, was not important today. His focus was on the man that was milling around the other members of the lighter aligned political families. James Potter cut a fine figure, a stern visage and robes almost as red as blood. He stood the epitome of what a minister should look like, completely contrary to the pot-bellied buffoon that had come before him. Regardless of the mixed feelings towards the man, he could think of no one more primed or with better reason for wanting the position.

Paying no mind further to James, he approached his seat on the very front row amongst those of the darker families, fighting the urge to grin at the reaction he was given, he sat in his chair, shunning the likes of Malfoy who had stiffened next to him and Nott who had begun fidgeting in his seat on the opposite side.

"Should any of you get the impulse to draw your wand, I will fucking end you where you stand," Harry hissed. "It would be quite a shame having to resort drawing blood on my first visit here."

"You dare, boy?" a voice challenged him from behind.

"Tut, tut, Thicknesse. Haven't you heard? Your lot are dropping like flies, at the moment. You wouldn't want to potentially provoke the wrong person, would you? Better yet, why not ask the man whose arse you've got your tongue rammed up what happened the last time he tried to cross me."

"The Dark Lord will come for you, boy," Thicknesse whispered furiously.

Malfoy attempted to chastise him with a look, but Harry chuckled, provoking the man further.

"When you see the coward, tell him it is I that is coming for him. Tell him, that I will take the lives of all of those that carry his mark and then I will personally rip out his heart once I have finished taking what he owes me in blood and suffering. Be a good boy, Pius, and pass on that message. I'm sure he will be pleased to know that."

"You fucking whelp…" Thicknesse hissed as he stood before he was shoved back into his chair by an unusually silent Lucius Malfoy.

"Aww, Lucius, you should have allowed him to do as he wishes. It could have been another name off my list," Harry sighed, his eyes flaring excitedly as he turned his head and gazed into the blue of the man. Pleased at the nervous swallow he elicited, he turned his attention to Dumbledore who was watching him over his half-moon spectacles speculatively.

"The Dark Lord is beyond you, Black. You could never hope to compare to his power," Lucius returned. "You and your family will meet their end by his hands."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the man.

"Not before yours, Lucius. Not before yours."

Dumbledore crashed his gavel against the podium, cutting off any rebuttal the blonde may have had to Harry's final words, the room falling silent in anticipation for what was to come.

"Before we indulge ourselves in the momentous occasion before us, I believe that it is prudent for us to acknowledge a new face amongst us. Therefore, I would like to welcome and congratulate, Lord Harry Black on his ascension to Lordship of his most revered family."

Evidently, very few had noticed his presence and a considerable amount of whispering broke out at the announcement, many standing and craning their necks to get a better view of the young man.

"What happened to Arcturus?"

"Is the former Lord well?"

Several questions were called out, out of turn, and Harry stood and held up his hands to silence what seemed to be mostly journalists making the enquiries.

"I can assure you, my grandfather is in fine health and spirit. He feels that now is the time for him to step away from the political field so that he can enjoy his remaining years without the necessity of pandering to fools and the unfortunate dregs of society that have found themselves in their lofty positions. His words, not mine," he added with a shrug.

A murmur of outrage could be heard, but there were few willing to voice their displeasure so loudly towards the Blacks, especially with one so close by. Happy that his reason for being here had been given and accepted, Harry took his seat once more, enjoying the discomfort of those around him. He had no doubt that the moment this meeting ended, several within earshot would be on their knees before Tom, crying about the way he had spoken to them.

He fought the urge to smirk again as the image of Malfoy being cursed by his master swam across his mind. It would not do to focus on the sight, no matter how entertaining, not when he had something with such import to see through.

"I am pleased that the former Lord Black is well," Dumbledore replied with a nod. "Now, I would like to welcome you all to this most, necessary of gatherings. It is here today that we will decide whom will become our next Minister of Magic."

A smattering of whispers broke out and continued to speculate until Dumbledore once more called for silence with another crash of his gavel. Harry couldn't help but feel it would see much use this day if it continued in the same vain.

"Firstly, we must acknowledge nominations for the position. From there, each accepted nominee will give a brief speech and our votes shall be cast. If we are unable to reach a majority consensus, the candidates will be whittled down until only two remain. The person that receives the most votes, will be named our new Minister of Magic. Who would like to begin?"

Several wands were raised, the tips lit up to garner the attention of the man carrying out the proceedings.

"Lord Doge," Dumbledore called upon first.

The room fell silent as Elphias Doge stood, with difficulty. He was an old man, likely one of the oldest within the chamber and it showed. It appeared that even a gentle breeze could knock him off his feet.

"My thoughts are as they always have been, even more so in the face of the threat we face. I believe no other should take the position other than Albus Dumbledore himself," he wheezed.

Another muttering broke out at Doge's declaration, some in agreement, others spouting expletives to the contrary of his thoughts. Harry could only shake his head as Dumbledore used his gavel to garner the attention of the room.

"As always, I appreciate the faith you show in me, old friend. However, my reply is the same as it has always been. I am an educator and have no desire to take office away from the school. Hogwarts is now and always my first priority."

Most nodded appreciatively at the statement. Despite feelings certain people had towards him, it was undeniable that he was dedicated to the school first and foremost. Harry acknowledged his abstention with a nod knowing his task would have been made inexplicably more difficult had the nomination been accepted.

"Lord Bole?" Dumbledore prompted.

A man much younger than Doge bowed before he released a deep breath.

"The times we face are certainly dire," he began diplomatically. "As such, we need a man of action, one that has not shied away from the threat of the Dark Lord. Thus far, that man has been Rufus Scrimgeour. It is he that has taken the helm since Fudge fled. It is he that I look to, to lead us through these perilous times."

Several people murmured their agreement and Rufus stood amongst his own supporters, grinning smugly.

"I humbly accept the nomination," he announced receiving a round of applause and cheering from those around him.

Harry snorted. There was nothing humble in the demeanour of the man who was preening under the attention of those within the room.

"Lord Potter?" Dumbledore called.

James stood, his visage almost blank as his gaze swept across those gathered. There was purpose in his posture as he exuded confidence without a hint of the cockiness he was once known for. To Harry, he cut quite the imposing figure.

"I have already announced my intentions of running for office and here I stand to reiterate it. Voldemort is a plague on our society and has been a burden on my family. I stand before you, ensuring you that should you name me your new minister, I will do whatever it takes to see the end of the monster. I will provide our law enforcement with all they need to carry out their duties in the safest way possible and I will break those that side with him, either by imprisoning them or eradicating them all if necessary."

Many looks of shock adorned the features of the gathered Lords and Ladies of the land, surprised that one would be so candid in their intentions, particularly when there was no reticence nor mincing of words. James Potter had made his point and had done so emphatically.

"THAT IS MURDER!" an irate voice screamed.

"And what would you call what Voldemort and his Death Eaters are doing?" Harry replied loudly. Turning to face the man, he took in the appearance of a face that seemed to have been struck repeatedly with a frying pan, so flat his nose was. "I suppose you would call it a cleansing?"

The man reddened in fury as he trembled.

"I for one am very interested in what the new Lord Black has to say on the matter," Scrimgeour goaded from across the room.

Humouring the man, Harry stood from his seat and all eyes turned to him, many sceptical, others curious to hear his first public address within the chamber.

"Well, first of all, Scrimgeour, I would reconsider the tone you just addressed me with or I will personally remind as to why the Blacks stand head and shoulder above yourself and your ilk. This time only, I will put it down to the emotion of the occasion and a simple apology will suffice. Should you choose not to, securing your position will be the least of your worries," he finished with a furious hiss, his hands itching to reach for his wand.

Scrimgeour paled at the threat and laughed awkwardly as the silent room stared between the two, watching with bated breath for the outcome of the stand-off.

"Come now, Black. Surely your skin is thick enough to absorb a jest," Rufus tried.

Harry's eyes glowed eerily as he shook his head.

"Does it appear to you that I am jesting?" he questioned in just above a whisper.

"Rufus, apologise to Lord Black," Amelia Bones encouraged, her own wand in hand to head off any unpleasantness.

Scrimgeour shook his head before bowing slightly.

"My apologies, Lord Black," he offered quietly.

Harry grinned malevolently at the current minister before nodding his acceptance and turning his head away from the man dismissively.

"As to my thoughts on the matter as to whom should lead our country," he spoke once more to those gathered, "I believe we should learn from history, from the past mistakes made."

He allowed the smattering of mutters to abate before continuing.

"Up until Voldemort's visit to my brother, the night he fell for the first time, Britain was on the verge of losing the war. There is no debate to be had on the matter, the country had been brought to its knees. The Death Eaters were wreaking havoc up and down the country and little was being done to prevent it. Weak leadership and lack of action was the cause of this. Unless you want a repeat of the last war, things need to be different. There can be no hesitation nor mercy when dealing with Voldemort and those that follow him. The aurors should not have to risk their lives attempting to bring them in. These animals, so happy to hunt and murder muggles and those of our kind should not be granted such treatment. They should face equal force, should be slaughtered for their transgressions against Wizarding Britain. Drastic times call for drastic measures and I would recommend implementing such as quickly as possible. If you do not, many lives will be lost, our loved ones will fall victim to tyranny and Voldemort will win."

Silence met his words, many people becoming contemplative others shocked by the impassioned speech.

"WE CANNOT ALLOW THIS!" the same flat-featured man shouted almost hysterically at Harry's suggestion. "He is inciting civil war."

"It is Voldemort that has incited war, you moron," Harry returned, "and I wasn't finished. That will not be enough."

"What else is it you suggest, Lord Black?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Any and all that carry the Dark Mark, willingly or unwillingly," he added with a sigh, "should be excluded from being nominated as Minister."

Those surrounding and behind him erupted in a cacophony of jeers and retorts, furious at such a suggestion.

"We did not act of our own will. We were cleared by the previous Minister," one protested loudly over the din.

"Then you should be doubly excluded for being weak-minded. If you were, as you claim, under the Imperius Curse, you have proven yourself unfit for office. What is to prevent it from happening again?"

Almost all the Lords on the opposing side nodded and vocalised their agreement and Harry noticed Dumbledore's beard twitching slightly, almost as though he was enjoying himself or simply relishing that Harry was raising very salient points most others would dare not do.

"This is an outrage and it will not stand," an older man to his left growled.

"Well, if in your position, Lord whoever you are, you do not wish to mitigate the harm Voldemort could have on the country with a weak leader installed, I would certainly be questioning your loyalty to the great nation in which you claim to serve and protect. Maybe you yourself are in fact a sympathiser of his extreme cause?"

The man gaped, unable to respond without implicating himself as one who at the very least supported Tom.

"That goes for all of you here. If you are so inclined to put forth a candidate with a questionable alliance or already proven weak of mind, what does that say of your own loyalty to your country?" Harry finished.

None had a response to his words, falling into the same trap the first fool to protest had. Many Lords, Ladies and journalists seemed to be scrutinising the teen who had seemingly quelled any notion of a Dark Lord sympathiser being elected in one fell swoop. Those within the same stand fell silent, not wishing to draw any undue attention to themselves.

"Alright, Black, you've made a very compelling point. Whom would you suggest we elect?" Tiberius Ogden questioned from his position next to Dumbledore.

Harry bowed respectfully at the question, pondering his answer before speaking once more.

"Out of the two put forward?"

Ogden nodded and Harry released a deep breath.

"Thus far, under Scrimgeour's tenure, short as it has been, Azkaban has fallen, attacks on muggles and wizards are increasing weekly and not a single arrest has been made. The public live in fear, scared to leave their homes because they have no faith in those that are sworn to protect them. The aurors are almost powerless to prevent these attacks nor respond to them quickly enough to help those targeted. Rufus Scrimgeour has done nothing to change that. He has spent his time in office, parading around like a prized cock without a damn clue."

"What about your father?" Ogden pressed.

"Sirius Black is my father, it is he that has raised me from when I was a boy," Harry returned firmly. "James Potter did not raise me. I was shunned by those that birthed me to protect my younger brother. I never once saw James nor Lily Potter until I returned for the tournament in October last year. Though, you are all aware of that. The Daily Prophet dined out on my misery for months."

"My apologies, Lord Black," Ogden offered sincerely. "I was aware, I wasn't sure if you had made peace with one another. It is clear that is not the case. I had to be certain your apparent animosity was not being used as a ploy to deceive us."

Harry nodded his understanding, the bitterness he still held for the man and his wife sincere and convincing enough to pass of as genuine disdain.

"My personal feelings aside. I can honestly think of no other than James Potter who could be so trusted to do all he could to put an end to Voldemort. None could ever question his motivation nor his allegiance. He has suffered the most, lost his family to the Dark Lord. You may not agree with him, but he will do what is necessary and needed to ensure Britain comes through this with minimal hurt and casualties."

"You would truly advocate me being Minister?" James asked, his saddened eyes tugging at Harry's heartstrings.

The teen nodded.

"For the good of the country, I would," he answered. "I can never forgive you for what you did to me but Charlie deserves his justice and I believe that you will do what is best to ensure it is served."

James swallowed deeply, ignoring all the eyes on himself and Harry.

"Everyone deserves justice. Everyone that has lost someone to Voldemort and his, they all should have their justice and not live in fear that they could be next."

Silence followed James' reply, no Lord or Lady able to offer a suitable retort.

"Before we begin the process of casting our votes, are there any other nominees?" Dumbledore questioned. The silence continued within the chambers, those that may have been willing to nominate another seemingly no longer in such spirit. "Very well, would either of the two candidates like to take the final opportunity to address the room?"

Scrimgeour stood immediately, his arms wide open.

"What is it I need to say to prove my dedication to putting an end to the Dark Lord?" he questioned almost frantically. "What more could I have done upon taking office? The DMLE have been given additional funding. They are working tirelessly to put an end to this."

"Words are water, Scrimgeour," Harry returned evenly. "Your first move should have been to bring in all known carriers of the Dark Mark and question the under veritaserum. If they are indeed innocent, such a thing would not have been an imposition on them. Merely to prove they are not in league with or assisting Voldemort, of course."

Movements of discomfort from around him could be heard, though tongues were held. Scrimgeour, however, shook his head.

"Impossible," he denied.

"No, it isn't," Harry rebuked. "As the Minister of Magic, you have the power to subject any citizen to such measures if deemed necessary by yourself and the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The potion should be administered by a neutral party and questioning carried out by the Head of the DMLE, witnessed by no less than four other Heads of Department and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot."

Scrimgeour stared back at him dumbly whilst others began to whisper furiously.

"I-is that true?" he asked Dumbledore.

"Indeed, though it is a law seldom used. Lord Black is correct, it is in the current charter within which we have our current freedom and liberties."

The nervous shuffling increased around Harry, the discomfort of his peers elevating significantly.

"And if any refuses, their assets can be frozen, and they can be deemed wanted by the Ministry of Magic," he added.

"Then why the bloody hell has that not been done?" Tiberius Ogden asked.

"Because Cornelius had his head in the sand and Rufus did not know it was a possibility."

"He was the head of the damned auror department. Surely, he should be well-versed in our laws," Lady Danvers interjected.

"Apparently not," Lord Greengrass huffed, loud enough to be heard throughout the room.

Rufus could only pale as his ineptitude was being exposed. It was an old law and not one he would have come across often if at all. Chances are, he had read it sometime or other, but it was not important to his position. However, it had proven that was no longer the case. As minister, that could have proven to be a boon, but would he have implemented it? Perhaps, though he could not be certain. One would paint a rather large target on his back. He was certainly keen to get rid of the Dark Lord but not at the expense of his own life nor of his loved ones.

Taking his seat once more when none spoke up in his defence, he slumped defeatedly. Harry Black had all but sealed his fate with his input throughout the morning.

"Bastard," he grumbled lowly.

"If there is noting else that needs be said, we shall cast our votes," Dumbledore announced. "All in favour of Rufus Scrimgeour, raise your wands."

Rufus chanced a glance around the room, his heart sinking at the meagre number of wands showing him favour.

"Those in favour of James Potter," Dumbledore called.

There were several more for the Potter lord, with many abstaining from the vote, predominantly those surrounding the new Lord Black. For them, there was no choice. Harry Black had seen to that personally.

"The votes have been tallied and it is my esteemed duty to announce the ascension of Lord James Potter to the post of Minister of Magic. May your tenure be prosperous for the people of Britain," Dumbledore concluded, his gavel crashing down a final time.

Immediately, James was accosted by journalists baying for interviews, photographers trying to capture the perfect shot and other Lords congratulating him or simply taking the opportunity to gain favour with the new Minister.

Harry stood, satisfied with his days work. Now, he cold truly act against Tom without subterfuge, the blessing of the new minister in no doubt. He stilled as a hand grasped his shoulder tightly before he could take his leave.

"You've just sealed your fate, Black," a voice growled in his ear, the hot breath of the man causing him to grimace.

As quickly as a serpent snatching up its pray, he turned and seized the one who dared to touch him by the throat, his eyes blazing in the fury rolling off him.

"No, you have sealed yours. I will see you very soon," he promised, the man's own orbs filling with fear at the use of parseltongue.

Harry shoved him away and managed to vanish through the fireplace without being impeded further.

"How did it go?" Arcturus questioned, the man clearly having waited for him within the Lord's solar.

"It's done," Harry confirmed. "It won't long before Tom is forced into action."

Arcturus nodded appreciatively.

"You've done well, Harry," he praised.

Harry bowed gratefully at the praise.

"Who is the flat-faced fool?"

"Flat-faced?"

Harry nodded.

"That would be Parkinson. Why?" Arcturus asked with a frown.

"He's next on my list."

(BREAK)

The newspaper clutched in his hands trembled in his grip, the fury coursing through his veins the reason for the tremor. The expected triumphant resurrection had been in tatters since the fateful night in the graveyard of his muggle ancestors. It should have been simple, the murder of the Potter brothers cementing his legacy leaving Wizarding Britain in his fearful grip. Ultimately, that had not come to pass. The elder brother had eluded death once more and foiled his plans.

"Potter," he hissed, piquing the interest of his familiar.

Now, the bane of his life was not only Harry Potter but his meddlesome father and now minister of magic, James. His jaw clenched as he skimmed over the front page of the Daily Prophet, the sinking in his stomach increasing and fury flaring once more.

"Minister Potter calls all carriers of the Dark Mark in for questioning… Minister Potter gives new powers to the auror force… Minister Potter carries out search of Ministry: 11 Death Eaters found… Minister Potter declares war on He-who-must-not-be-named…

It went on and on. In less than forty-eight hours in office, Potter had all but crippled his forces. He no longer had any spies within the Ministry and those that were in a position to feed him information had been neutralised and needed to go to ground. The work was already in motion to house them all within Malfoy Manor, a building he had now full control of, despite Lucius's protestations, however, the damage had already been done. On the very same page of the newspaper singing the praises of Potter, the very bottom corner announced the horrific murder of Gordon Parkinson, the body being found under the Dark Mark on his own grounds. It had been his daughter Pansy that had found him.

Voldemort shook his head. He had been able to do nothing to prevent these deaths. He had checked the wards on each murder scene himself and none had been tampered with in any way. It was as though a ghost was committing the atrocities. The Dark Lord knew better.

"Potter," he ground out, his fury this time directed towards the younger.

He didn't know how, but the boy was responsible for these deaths. It could only be him. The only other he knew that would be capable of such was his former headmaster and Dumbledore certainly did not have the fortitude to carry out these acts. Despite his cowardly reticence, the interfering old fool would have to be dealt with. He had been a thorn in his side for too long.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the twitching heap on the floor, moaning pitifully. Lucius had fallen further from grace than the Dark Lord ever thought possible, with himself and those that once danced to his tune without question. Ever since he had attempted to exert himself over the Blacks, his life had fallen apart. He had lost his fortune, lost his position as an advisor to the Minister and had failed is master time and time again. The once charismatic Lord was now pathetic, the only worthwhile thing about him now being the house he provided.

Voldemort curled his lip in distaste. He couldn't kill the man yet, but he could certainly punish the fool.

"Go and fetch your spawn, Lucius," he commanded. "He does wish for the opportunity to earn my favour, does he not?"

Any denial Lucius may have offered, died on his lips as the red eyes of the Dark Lord bored into his own. With no other choice, he nodded and dragged himself from the room.

"Pathetic," Voldemort muttered as he began pacing.

The problem that needed his focus most was that of the Minister. James Potter would need to be eliminated at the earliest possible convenience and then, his son. The boy was proving to be quite the annoyance and threat, the latter begrudgingly being admitted. Dumbledore would also need to be handled, but that would be down to the Malfoy boy. Regardless of the outcome, it was a positive for Voldemort. If the boy was successful, which he highly doubted, he could simply kill Lucius or have his own son do it as a final test of his loyalty.

He grinned at the thought.

Were he to fail, as expected, he would consider the failings of the father, redeemed. The thought of Lucius snivelling over the body of his inept offspring brought a cruel smile to his lips. He removed it as best he could when the door opened, admitting the boy of his thoughts. He bowed clumsily before him, disgusting him more than the man that had spewed him from his loins.

"My Lord," Draco greeted him cockily.

The Dark Lord allowed it on this one occasion, making a mental note to punish the brat for his arrogance later.

"Ahh, Draco. I believe time is right for you to join our ranks. What say you?"

The boy smirked and Voldemort had to fight the urge to curse him. He lacked any semblance of humility and it sickened him. It was boys like this that felt they could make his own life miserable at school, until he proved he was their better.

"It is all I have wished for, My Lord," Draco replied.

This time, Voldemort did smile. That stupid grin would soon leave the face of the foolish boy, of that he had no doubt. Either way, the future was not bright for Draco Malfoy.

(BREAK))

His path through the empty halls of the castle had led him to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the headmaster's office. Thankfully, he had discussed the opportunity offered to him by the man with his son who had gifted his blessing unquestionably. Had he not, it was likely he would have entered the school via the Shrieking Shack, a previous haunt of years gone by and would have found himself trapped within the ward Harry had placed over the building.

Chuckling, he shook his head. Harry was every bit as sneaky as he had once been. For him however, his own mischievous proclivities had abandoned him during the course of one night. Harry had needed him to be responsible, and for his son, it was the very least he deserved.

"Sirius Black to see Professor Dumbledore," he announced to the stone creature who remained unmoving for a moment before it sprung to the side to admit him. With a nod, Sirius stepped upon the platform and began his ascent.

Still, he questioned had he made the correct decision regarding his future. It was not something he had truly considered, not until his family had been forced back to these shores the previous year. He had dedicated his life to Harry, something he would trade for nothing. Raising the boy and watch him grow into the man he was becoming was more fulfilling than he could have imagined. He had been luckily enough to share the laughter and the tears with the new head of house, had been there to cure his ills and be his confidant when he needed one.

Harry no longer needed him so. It saddened the man, but he couldn't be prouder. For all he had done or wanted to do, being with Harry made everything pale in comparison.

"Come in, Sirius," the voice of the headmaster pulled him from his thoughts.

Sirius pushed open the door and stepped into the office that hadn't once changed since he had first been called here in his first year of schooling. He had accidentally created a potion that turned Snape's hair a vivid pink that Slughorn couldn't reverse. He had served six weeks of detention until the man had managed the feat; a detention given to him by the very same offering him employment.

"Might I assume that you are here to discuss my wish for you to assume the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?" the old man questioned hopefully as he gestured for Sirius to take a seat.

The Black nodded as he lowered himself into the plush chair.

"I have decided I will accept under certain conditions."

Dumbledore leaned forward, his chin resting against steepled fingers as his eyes twinkled merrily.

"What conditions would they be, Sirius?"

"There will be no prying from you or any other staff member about my family, my son especially. I will retain the right to leave the castle the evenings I am not required to be here and you will meet with Harry, when the time is right, to answer any questions he has frankly about Voldemort."

Dumbledore nodded severely after pausing.

"Does the final request come from Harry himself?"

"It does," Sirius confirmed. "Without going into much detail, he is making considerable progress in bringing him down. He is certain you have information he needs to finish the job permanently."

"Undoubtedly," Dumbledore concurred. "I would be pleased to meet with him and I can promise I will be as open with him as he with me. I believe that for Tom to be defeated, it will take the combined knowledge from myself and his skill, though Harry has already proven himself a worthy adversary. I found myself exceedingly impressed with him during his debut in the Wizengamot. He is an exceptional young man," he finished with a bow.

"Then you have yourself a new Defence Professor," Sirius returned with a nod.

"The rest of the staff will be delighted with your appointment, as am I."

"Even Snape?"

Dumbledore's beard twitched in amusement before he let out a chuckle.

"I do believe Severus may be less so. His memory is long after all and one does not tend to forget years of mutual dislike such as those the two of you shared."

"That is only if he escapes imprisonment. Our new Minister has insisted on everyone that carries the mark in for questioning."

Dumbledore sighed.

"Severus has proven his loyalty to me. I have no doubt he will emerge from this necessity without cause for concern."

Sirius nodded as he stood.

"I do hope so, for your sake and his. Should he prove to be a threat to my son, I will personally kill him. It will no longer be prank spells aimed in his direction," he warned.

Without waiting for a reply, Sirius took his leave, intent on enjoying his final two weeks of peace before he would take up his post. A part of him felt as though he had a purpose once more, the other that being at Hogwarts would be more trouble than it was worth. He could only hope the worst he faced would be reaping what he had once sown. A few pranks here or there, he wouldn't mind, but something told him things within the castle would be much more sinister in nature than when he was a student here.

(BREAK)

Things within the auror department were changing rapidly under the new leadership of James Potter. Already, he had issued the decree of killing Death Eaters on sight if it were not possible to bring them in safely and the entire team was currently under to review to ensure competence from the very top all the way down to the trainees. Potter was taking no chance with the lives of the aurors and Tonks couldn't help but think the changes being made were much needed.

If what she felt could be called relief, What Moody was experiencing could only be described as something closely resembling ecstasy. Even with his limp, the spring in his step was evident as milled around muttering about 'a return to the old ways'.

It was strange to see the man so jovial. The same however, could not be said for much of the department. Many had become complacent over the years, had fallen into the laxity allowed by Fudge's regime. For them, this was a shock to the system and one they would have to get over quickly should they wish to keep their positions. Minister Potter had made it very clear that if you weren't up to scratch, you would be gone.

Tonks had no worries. She had been under the tutelage of Mad-eye and any laxity, laziness or incompetence was dealt with harshly and efficiently. The man was not one to suffer laziness or idleness lightly.

She herself had just returned from the training room having been put through her paces by her mentor, James Potter and Amelia Bones to prove that she was worthy of her role. She was exhausted by the ordeal. Moody, unsurprisingly, had been her harshest critic whereas both Potter and Bones seemed impressed by her capabilities, both having earned reputations amongst their peers for being exceptional with a wand.

For Tonks, the rumours and stories did the duo no justice. Amelia Bones was fast and not even for a woman of her age. Very few would be able to cope with the pace she kept during a duel.

James Potter was more than she had ever expected. She had heard tales of the man and his skill in Transfiguration, which he proved were not unfounded. His wand work in the branch was second to none. She had never witnessed someone with such a gift cast such difficult spells with ease. What she had not expected from him was the battle magic he had employed and neither had Moody or Bones judging by their reactions. Battle magic itself was a specialist branch, taking years to master even the most basic of practices. James Potter had clearly worked on it, for how long, she couldn't be sure, but he was a man that should certainly not be crossed. There was a darkness within him. Whether it had existed before Charlie had died, she couldn't be certain, but staring into those hazel eyes as he blankly casted spells that would end lives in a violent and inhumane manner had left her flabbergasted.

She shook her head from the thoughts, pleased that he was one of the purebloods that had not joined the Dark Lord.

"How was it, Tonks?" Kingsley questioned as he entered her cubicle.

The young woman shrugged dismissively. She was still wary of many of her colleagues, particularly those that had aligned themselves with Dumbledore after everything the man had done.

"As expected," she replied.

Kingsley released a deep breath as he shook his head.

"I think we need to talk."

"No, we don't," Tonks bit back. "You made your choice the moment you sided with him. Other than work, we have nothing to discuss."

"Can you not see it?" Kingsley hissed. "The murders, the disappearances, all of them are being carried out by the Blacks. Your boyfriend."

"Do not speak about things you have no idea about," Tonks growled, her fury rising. "If Harry is behind them, then why have you not arrested him?"

"You know as well as I do there is no proof," Kingsley sighed. "If there was, I would have him."

Tonks chuckled.

"If you believe that you are capable of bringing him in, then why don't you? I'm sure if you fed him veritaserum and it proved he was behind them, that would be all the evidence you would need."

"It isn't that simple."

"Exactly, so until you have irrefutable proof, keep your nose out of my personal life."

"So be it," Kingsley replied before turning sharply away and leaving her alone in her cubicle.

She deflated into her chair, releasing a deep breath.

She didn't have anything personal against Kingsley, other than the fact he was choosing to support the man that had caused Harry so much misery. Of course, he was not to know that, but he had no right to pass judgement on what Harry was doing, nobody did. Even she herself had found it difficult to come to terms with, the apparent callous murder. Such, however, was not the case. She had grown to know the boy better than any other and she understood why he was doing what he was. It was not because he was evil and simply wanted vengeance, though she was aware that played a large part in his motivation for his actions. Were it merely for revenge, she would take the same stance she had chosen. But it went further, much deeper than how it would appear as she found out only the previous day

FLASHBACK

In a rare moment of peace, Harry and Tonks were walking hand in hand across a beach in the east of England, the evening summer breeze tousling their hair as sea would submerge their ankles when the tide came in, being so close to the water as they were.

Suddenly, Harry stopped and bent down to pick up a sizeable pebble. He inspected it for a moment before skimming it across the surface of the sea, watching it until it vanished soundlessly amongst the waves.

"I'm not doing what I am because I enjoy it," he said, just loud enough to be heard over the crashing water.

Tonks frowned in his direction. It was perhaps the worst kept secret between the two. Both were aware that he was behind the attacks on the Death Eaters, they just never discussed it.

"I didn't say anything," she returned.

Harry shook his head, smiled sadly and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"You don't have to, but if I'm going to marry you one day, you have the right to know. If anyone does, you deserve to know me."

"If you decide to marry me," Tonks pointed out.

"Come on, Dora. Do you really think there is anyone else I want to spend the rest of my life with? I would marry you tomorrow if you would have me."

Tonks blushed as she pushed him away playfully.

"I told you not to say things like that unless you mean them."

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't," Harry replied, pulling her back closer to him. "Anyway, that doesn't matter right now."

Tonks said nothing and simply looked on as Harry gazed towards the horizon and the setting sun.

"At first, it was about revenge. I wanted him to pay for what he'd done to Charlie. I still do," he added, frowning. "But there is more to it than that. I want to stop him putting anyone else through what he did to me. I want to stop him hurting people, I suppose. A part of me thinks I'm one of very few capable of it"

Tonks giggled.

"You are a good person Harry, better than anyone else knows. You want to help the people. There's nothing wrong with that."

Harry snorted.

"I don't care about them, not really," he denied, "but I don't want them to suffer unnecessarily. Nobody deserves what Tom has done to those that don't agree with him. I'm still a selfish git," he sighed.

Tonks shook her head.

"You are a good persona Harry, a lot like Arcturus and probably a Black to the very core, but there's more to you than that. You want to help those that can't help themselves, just because you can. That makes you the best person I know."

Harry smiled at her slightly.

"I just didn't want you to think I was doing this because I liked it. I'm doing this because somebody must. It matters to me how you see me"

Tonks leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

"There is nothing you could do that would make me question you, Harry. I've seen enough of you to know you're not just another evil bastard seeking power. You're much more than that and nobody can tell you any differently. You have your reasons for what you're doing and that is all that matters. It just makes it easier knowing you are doing it for the right ones, if not, I'd have to arrest you."

Harry raised an eyebrow in her direction.

"Do you think you could manage it?"

"Maybe, if I used all my charm," she replied in a whisper, leaning in for a kiss.

As Harry closed his eyes to return the gesture, she shoved him as hard as she could, sending him crashing into an oncoming wave as she ran as fast as her legs could carry her.

Harry sputtered as he surfaced, shocked by the attack. His clothes and hair were sodden and he laughed as he watched the auror stumbling away from him across the damp sand. Shaking his head, he apparated and appeared in front of her, a little closer than he had anticipated and the two collided, sending them both to the ground.

"Did you forget you were a witch?" Harry asked from his position beneath the woman.

"Maybe I wanted you to catch me," she returned breathily, before giving him the previously promised kiss.

"I love you," Harry muttered against her lips, his eyes closed as he basked in the warmth of the embrace, despite his drenched clothing.

"I love you," Tonks replied after a moment, taken aback that it had been him to profess it first.

END FLASHBACK

For the first time since she had met him, she had felt worthy of his affection. There were no lingering doubts about his intentions though she already knew deep down he was like no other she had ever met. He was none of the fools that had tried to court her simply for what she was. He was different, and she could be no more grateful for his presence in her life.

She winced slightly as she stood, the aches and pains surfacing now that the adrenaline from her assessment with her superiors had come and gone. As much as she could happily reminisce about her time with the young man occupying her thoughts, she still had her part to play in bringing an end to the Dark Lord, though he himself and his followers had been unusually quiet since Potter had taken office. Tonks, however, had a feeling the peace as unlikely to last. It was only a matter of time before they emerged from the shadows and continued with their work. It was inevitable.

(BREAK)

Harry shook his head as he placed another sheet of parchment on the substantial pile already read through and digested. When he had approached Rita for any information se had on Dumbledore, he had not expected such an exhaustive plethora of parchment. Ream upon ream had been bestowed upon him and it had taken a few days to navigate his way through all of it. Not wanting to dismiss anything lest it proved to be useful, he scoured each page meticulously.

From everything he had read on the man, it was clear Rita had enough to ruin his reputation. The surprisingly close friendship with Grindelwald, his father's imprisonment for attacking muggles and even the tragic death of his younger sister. There was much the man need to answer for, but Harry was interested in only a few of the many revelations he had become aware of. At first, he had been sceptical of what the woman had provided, her inclination towards sensationalism too strong to ignore. His doubts, however, were soon put to rest. Rita was in no position to lie to him. Her life meant much more to her than that.

He released a deep breath as he pondered just how he could use all of it to his advantage, dismissing idea upon idea quickly. Dumbledore was a man of wit and intelligence. Such approaches that he would rather employ would be fruitless with the man. An open and honest conversation would be best, though Harry was reluctant to engage in it.

He dragged a hand through his hair as he released a deep breath. If he wanted to make progress with Tom, Dumbledore was a necessary evil he would have to unfortunately deal with. There was no doubt the headmaster knew him better than any, and more importantly, Harry couldn't help but believe he had hidden a Horcrux within the Chamber of Secrets. Harry didn't have a clue where in the castle it would be found and the name didn't give him much of hope of finding it without assistance. He couldn't deny Dumbledore would be his best option overall and could even shed some light on other questions he had, particularly about Grindelwald and the use of the hallows symbol. Something there did not add up and if the headmaster was a s close to him as Rita believed, he would have some useful knowledge.

Tired of reading about the misdeeds of the revered man, he placed the large stack in the draw of his desk before securing it with a parseltongue command.

Sooner rather than later, the meeting between the two would have to take place. It mattered not if he killed Tom before any other Horcruxes were destroyed but he would rather the man be finished permanently than risk another resurrection further down the line. His best option currently, was working with the first man he had come to hate. Harry, however, was no fool. An enemy of an enemy does not make a friend so he would approach the situation carefully, giving nothing unless needed and taking all he could.

(BREAK)

James Potter would have once relished holding his once mortal enemy in the position Severus Snape found himself in. The man was bound to a chair in one of the interrogation rooms in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, ready to be administered Veritaserum. Now, such a thing seemed so petty, the hardships the Minister had faced to be granted this occasion proving to be too high a price.

"I suppose you are enjoying this, Potter," the sallow-skinned man drawled calmly.

James shook his head.

"Much less than you would believe," he replied tiredly.

A lot rode on the next moments of questioning. Dumbledore had staunchly stood behind Snape, had insisted he was on there side, had turned cloak on who the man insisted was his former master. James had always had his doubts, doubts that would either be founded or put to rest.

"Administer the potion," he commanded.

The potioneer that had been brought in for the task nodded before setting about is work. He placed the required three drops on the tongue of the professor and waited a moment before nodding that it had taken effect. The man had been exceedingly busy the past few days, today particularly so. Severus Snape was among the best in the field and more than exceptional in the Mind Arts, thus, the mixture given to the man was considerably more potent than was usual practice. James could not risk something of such import being risked because he was not thorough.

"What is your name?" Amelia Bones questioned.

"Severus Tobias Snape," the man answered, struggling against the effects of the potion.

"Do you support Lord Voldemort?"

"No," Snape answered emphatically, surprising James with how strong the denial was.

"Have you taken or followed any orders from him since his return?"

"Yes."

Amelia frowned.

"What have you done for him?"

"I have created restorative potions for him and the Death Eaters he freed from Azkaban."

"Why?"

"Because I am a spy for Albus. Since the last war, I have been working with him to bring the Dark Lord down."

Amelia stared at the man in surprise, her gaze shifting to Dumbledore who was also required to be present for the proceedings.

"Is this true?"

The headmaster nodded severely, all trace of benevolence absent.

"Have you ever followed the Dark Lord willingly?"

"Yes," Snape answered before Dumbledore could protest. Amelia silenced the man with a stern glare before continuing.

"Why did you switch sides?"

"The reasons are personal and unimportant," Dumbledore interjected. "Severus has proven his innocence and loyalty."

"Hi loyalty to you," Amelia returned, "not his innocence."

"That's enough, Amelia," James broke in. As far as he was concerned, the details did not matter. Snape had proven himself in his eyes and there was little else he wanted to know about him. He had his suspicions but did not want them confirmed. "Give him the antidote and let him go. If he proves to be a threat, he will be dealt with accordingly."

Amelia thought better of arguing and nodded her agreement. It was beneficial to them to have the man continuing in his capacity rather than locking him up to rot. When all was said and done, he could always be put on trial for his past crimes if she or the minister deemed it necessary.

Snape quickly snapped out of his stupor, his eyes switching between those within the room wildly in confusion. When he remembered where he was, his lip curled in distaste as he stared at his former nemesis.

"Happy?" he muttered.

"No, Severus, I'm not. For what it is worth, I misjudged you. I can only say that I am glad I was wrong. I was not looking forward to telling Lily her childhood friend would have to be executed."

With his final words spoken, James left the room, head shaking.

Dumbledore sighed at his departure, the once cheerful, mischievous boy he had enjoyed roaming the halls of Hogwarts nowhere to be seen.

"Losing his son has changed him," Amelia broke the awkward silence. "He's not the same man that he was in the aurors even six months ago."

She thought, for the briefest second, a flash of sadness could be seen in the eyes of Severus Snape, but it was gone before she could question it further.

"Alas, such tragedy tends to leave its scars," Dumbledore concurred. "For many of us."

Amelia could only frown at the strange statement as the room emptied around her. Pondering the words, she understood. She too had lost her family and it had irrevocably changed her. The James Potter she had once known was not likely to be seen again. For Voldemort, it could prove to his worst nightmare and for those that cared for the man, it would stand as a reminder of the smile that once adorned his features when he spoke so proudly of his children, both lost to him in their own ways.

(BREAK)

His efforts to bring Tom down were starting to become frustrating. Since James had taken the post of Minister, the Death Eaters had gone to ground, hidden away from their homes to avoid capture by the ministry, or, they had now come to fear being attacked in the night by him. Whatever the reason, each house he had visited these past nights had proven to be wasted. It hadn't taken long for him to track them down, though he was not foolish enough to attempt something with so many present. They had taken up residence in Malfoy Manor, numbering more than he had been expecting. For now, however, it mattered not. His attention had been turned towards another venture, one that could prove to be fruitful in his conversation with Dumbledore.

It had been something that he had been pondering since his discovery of the first two hallows and his inquiries had led him to believe that Grindelwald had once possessed the wand from the tale of the three brothers. The use of the symbol could not be a coincidence, judging by the nature of the man. Cassie had been surprised by his sudden interest in the once feared Dark Lord, but had not questioned it, only looked at him strangely when he mentioned the wand he used. The woman had helpfully revealed Gellert had carried two wands, one that he claimed to have won the allegiance of later in life. When asked to describe it, it matched perfectly the wand that the Hogwarts headmaster used; the bone white down to the very elderberries that adorned it.

To be certain of his suspicions, he had one last visit to make, one conversation with a man who knew wands better than any.

The bell jingled as he entered the humble shop, the candles levitating by the walls the only source of light. Behind the counter, stack upon stack of boxes stood, almost reaching the ceiling. His observations were cut short by the approaching sound of shuffling feet and only a moment later, the proprietor entered from a back room.

"Ahh, Lord Black," Ollivander greeted him with a bow, his keen grey eyes surveying him with interest.

"Mr Ollivander," Harry replied respectfully.

People who practiced the art of wandlore were exceedingly rare indeed. It was believed by many that the craft was not something that could be learnt, that someone had to be born with the inherent skill to make them. That skill would be honed from a very young age until one was ready to begin their career I the field, something that seldom happened. The Ollivander family had been known for the practice for centuries and revered across the globe for their work.

"What is it I can do for you?" the elderly man questioned curiously.

Harry considered his next words carefully, not wanting to draw suspicion to himself.

"I was hoping to have a discussion with you about my wand," he began.

"Quite the wand and quite the connection you share with it. Even after all my years, things still have the ability to surprise me. What is it I can assist you with?"

Harry released a deep breath before continuing.

"You said yourself that the wand does not influence magical power. Without being to immodest, I am quite a powerful wizard. How can you be sure that wands don't have that ability?"

Ollivander nodded appreciatively at the question before chuckling.

"A wand is simply a wand, Lord Black. The stronger the connection, the better it will work for you. Yours is…unique. I have never come across a wand with such fierce loyalty. I imagine it is much to do with how you came upon the core, the bonding between yourself and the creature and how it was willingly given. You don't quite believe it? he finished, a frown marring his features.

"Forgive me, wandlore is not something I have any skill with. It's just hard to believe that a wand has no influence over magical power."

"It does indeed, but the power it influences comes from within you," Ollivander countered. He stared at Harry speculatively before nodding to himself. "Perhaps a demonstration would be prudent, yes? I myself am curious to see something. Would you humour me?"

Harry nodded, truly enjoying the conversation with the man, though it was not progressing how he had intended.

Ollivander swept into the back room and returned a few minutes later clutching a box in his hands, his eyes alight with interest.

"This wand," he said, gesturing to the box he carried, "I believed was destined for your younger brother. When it did not bond with him, questions formed that I believed would never be answered. He was the one said to have put an end to the Dark Lord, and I believed for that reason, this wand would be his."

He opened the box to reveal a rather plain, brown wand. To Harry, it looked like any other wand possessed by a witch or wizard.

"Take it, Lord Black," he urged.

Tentatively, Harry reached for the wand, pausing only a moment before grasping it in his hand. Immediately, a powerful rush flowed through his veins causing his hair to dance in a ripple of magical expulsion. It was a similar feeling to what he had felt when he first grabbed his own, only diluted. As quickly as it started, the feeling ended, the wand going cold in his hand. Ollivander huffed slightly and shook his head

"It recognises you as its master, though it is bowing to the more dominant magic in your veins. It understands you already have a powerful pond with another. Perhaps in a different life, this would have been yours," the older man sighed as he took the wand and placed it back in the box.

"What is going on?" Harry asked confusedly.

Ollivander offered him a sad smile.

"This particular wand is made of Holly and contains the feather of a phoenix. The very same phoenix gave another feather for a wand that was claimed some several decades ago."

"Tom Riddle," Harry whispered.

"Indeed. I remember the day he first came here to collect it. He was a very charismatic young man, beyond his years in magical power, just as you are. I told him, he would become great. I was correct. His feats of magic are legendary, though he became terrible with it. He is Dumbledore's greatest mistake."

"Dumbledore?"

Ollivander nodded severely.

"Had he tempered the boy, mentored him even, young Tom could have been amongst the best of us today. Instead, Albus treated him with suspicion, kept him at arm's length. I believe he saw much of his former acquaintance in the boy and did not want to repeat history."

"Grindelwald," Harry muttered.

A brief flicker of surprise glinted in those eerie eyes of the wandmaker before he nodded.

"A strange day it was when Albus arrived with the foreign boy, asking questions about mythical wands. I did not believe that such astute men would be swayed by such tales. I advised them both to leave the legend be."

"But they didn't," Harry pointed out.

"Albus did. Grindelwald was convinced the hallows were real. I too had fallen into the trap as a younger man, wasted years of my life in pursuing the Wand of Destiny. A fool's errand on my part."

"The Wand of Destiny?"

"The Elder wand, the Deathstick. It has been given many titles throughout its bloody history."

"So, you no longer believe in it?"

Ollivander's gaze turned speculative once more.

"I never stopped believing. I merely believe attempting to find the hallows will prove to be the death of many. No, they are best left to wherever they rest."

Harry nodded.

"Thank you, Mr Ollivander, for your time."

Ollivander bowed respectfully.

"If you are indeed in pursuit of the hallows, I believe a chat with Albus would be beneficial. I can only judge by what I see and the wand he collected from my father is not the one he uses now. Of course, there may be a perfectly innocent reason for this," he concluded with a shrug.

"Why would you tell me that?" Harry asked with a frown.

"Because Albus will not right his own wrongs and I believe that it is you doing all you can to put an end to the Dark Lord. I have my doubts the Elder wand could serve you any better than the one you have, but I may be wrong. I wish you luck, Lord Black, the Wand of Destiny couldn't be in more safe hands."

"Stay safe, Mr Ollivander," Harry responded before he exited the shop, the word destiny turning his thoughts back to the prophecy he had retrieved all those months ago.

He shook his head. To him, the prophecy mattered not nor did retrieving the Elder wand as much as the wandmaker believed. Prophecy and wand or not, it was he that would put an end to Tom Riddle because the man had wronged him so unforgivably. Destiny had nothing to do with it as far as he was concerned.

He disapparated away, his mind not focused on his surroundings as they would usually be. A pair of curious watched and widened as they noted just whom it was they had seen exiting the shop. He too vanished, hoping a reward would be due from his master for the information he was bringing him.

(BREAK)

It was the very next evening that Harry found himself sat across the desk from the revered headmaster, the two staring with expectance and intently at one another. Harry had never seen the man the same way the rest of the wizarding world seemingly did. The man sat before him was seen without the rose-tint glasses, the manipulation hidden in the warm benevolence not hidden well enough from the younger man that knew better, that had experienced first-hand the lengths that would be traversed by this humorously clad master of subterfuge. No, Albus Dumbledore was not the gentile, saintly picture of innocence he had worked so hard to portray. He was a puppet master, as skilled as they came in the art of cunning, spouting flowery flattery to lull the unsuspecting into his web of deceit. Before they knew it, these fools would be trapped and devoured, all the while, believing it was all for their benefit.

He narrowed his eyes at the man. He was no such fool and would not fall victim as many that had come before him had.

"How many?" he questioned, breaking the silence. He did not have the patience to waste anymore time, ignoring the gentle probes of legilimency prodding his mind.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"It would be helpful if you were to be a little more specific in your questioning, Harry."

His nostrils flared in irritation.

"Horcruxes," he growled. "How many has he made? I suppose that is why you sought out Slughorn and modified his mind?"

Dumbledore flinched at the accusation but denied nothing and composed himself quickly.

"Horace, was an unfortunate incident. He was rather reluctant to disclose anything pertaining to Tom." He released a deep breath before continuing. "It is my firm belief that Tom has created no less than seven."

Harry nodded. He had no reason to believe Dumbledore would mislead him when it came to the horcruxes. Not when he seemed so sure it was Harry that it had to be Harry to finish Tom off.

"How many have you found?" he pressed.

Dumbledore deflated at the question.

"One," he admitted. "A diary that found its way into the possession of Ginevra Weasley. She had been consumed by the soul fragment before I could save her. She died when the diary was destroyed."

Harry watched as the man's eyes filled with genuine remorse for the fate of the girl.

"That leaves only two," Harry sighed.

Dumbledore's gaze snapped up to his own, surprise replacing the mourning.

"Truly?" he asked, relieved.

"The one in me, Slytherin's necklace, the Gaunt Family ring and Hufflepuff's cup," he reeled off.

"I had my suspicions about the cup ad necklace," the old man revealed. "I believe I was on the cusp of locating the latter. Where did you find them?"

Harry grinned, unable to prevent the feeling of smugness of having outdone the headmaster.

"My grandfather found the necklace at our family home. Apparently, my uncle Regulus turned on Tom after he found out his secret. He replaced the one he knew of with a fake but didn't know how to destroy it. It has been dealt with."

"That is, I must say, quite the surprise," Dumbledore muttered. "And the cup?"

"Much more difficult to retrieve," Harry snorted. "It was in the LeStrange vault in Gringotts."

Dumbledore frowned at the proclamation, trying to piece together the puzzle of how Harry had learned of the location. He nodded after a few moments and chuckled.

"Lord Whelan?" he guessed. "He would have been in the most fortuitous of position to gain such information during his imprisonment. May I assume that it was done intentionally?"

"You can assume what you will," Harry bit back.

"Genius, I must say," Dumbledore praised, ignoring the acerbate tone. "Arcturus could certainly arrange it. You have destroyed them?"

Harry nodded, not willing to admit they were still whole and functional after the soul fragments had been removed.

"What of the ring? Admittedly, it was not something I had considered."

"In what remained of the Gaunt Family home. As a parselmouth, it was not so difficult to obtain, though the curses on it would have defeated most. I would hazard a guess that even you would not have gotten it unscathed. The magic was subtle, but I know his magic better than any."

"That I do not dispute, Harry," Dumbledore admitted with an incline of his head. "It does, however, leave us with two more to locate. Any thoughts?"

Harry leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. He wanted to see how forthcoming the headmaster was willing to be and did not feel comfortable sharing his thoughts before Dumbledore any further.

"What do you think?" he pressed.

Dumbledore met his stare equally before releasing a laboured breath.

"Severus is quite concerned about Tom's snake. He believes he is able to exert far too much control over it, even for a parselmouth."

Harry hid a triumphant grin.

"My thoughts exactly. From the memories I have seen of their relationship, it goes beyond normal. Even with Mira, I cannot control her as he does with Nagini. She will not do something simply because I will it."

"Then I believe we have only one more to discover. I would be quite inclined to fathom a guess that Tom may have located another relic of our esteemed founders. As the heir of Slytherin, he would see them as his property. From what I know of him, he does not like the thought of anything he considers his own in the hands of others."

Harry could see the logic in the thought process. The question remained, however, just what he could have used. His own knowledge of the founders was rather limited. This would have to be deferred to man in front of him.

"What items are known to exist?"

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head.

"Very few, many not having been seen in centuries. Godric was well known for his sword, Rowena her diadem that has not been seen since she herself roamed these halls and the two items of Hufflepuff and Slytherin already used by Tom," he explained.

A gentle cough caught the attention of the two.

"The sword of Gryffindor is safe and can only be retrieved by one of noble intentions. I can personally attest to this," a beaten hat resting upon one of the many shelves around the room announced.

Dumbledore frowned as he stood and approached the aged garment.

"How can you be certain?"

"Because it is I that guards it, and none have ever proven worthy enough to be presented with it. Not even you, Albus."

Dumbledore held his hands up and chuckled as Fawkes squawked indignantly.

"Then I am pleased it is safe. That does, however, leave us with only a diadem that has been lost for almost a millennium," he lamented.

He fell silent, pondering just where to begin looking for such a thing. Harry, however, was not considering the item itself but where it could be located. Before Dumbledore had even mentioned the demise of the Weasley girl, only one place made sense, a place that only Tom, as far as he knew, would likely be able to access.

"The Chamber of Secrets," he called, interrupting the man's newly adopted pacing.

Dumbledore paused, his eyes glazing slightly as he shook his head.

"There is a danger that lurks within the chamber, one that I fear we would be unable to deal with. To do so, several others would need to be consulted and made aware of its existence. The only one to venture in and survive is Tom. I was unable to enter, despite my best efforts. Hagrid and I spent many weeks in the forest, ensuring that any possible escape for the creature within, was blocked."

"A basilisk?" Harry surmised, the conversation with his brother so many moons fresh in his mind.

"All evidence suggests so," Dumbledore concurred. "I fear that it should be left well alone."

"I would usually agree, but it is the only logical place that Tom would have hidden one."

Dumbledore deflated as he nodded his agreement.

"I fear further that you are right, my boy," the old man conceded.

"Then let's get it over with. I'm sure that we can handle what is down there between the two of us," Harry prompted. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

Dumbledore's beard twitched as he smiled.

"You are much more like Sirius and James than you know," he sighed. "Very well, if I am to meet my end tonight, let it be in the pursuit of putting an end to Tom. Follow me, Harry."

Ignoring the muttering of the hat that had addressed them, the two exited the office and Dumbledore led the way down to the second floor and to a girl's bathroom.

"In here?" Harry questioned, almost disappointed by the location.

"Think logically, Harry. Where better than a bathroom full of large pipes for a basilisk to emerge?"

"True," Harry agreed as he pushed the door open, only for his wand to be in his hand a split second later as he came face to face with a rather disturbing apparition.

"Good evening, Myrtle," Dumbledore greeted her merrily. "Don't mind us, we are simply investigating this rather wonderful bathroom you have made your home."

The girl hiccupped as her face filled with fear.

"Those yellow eyes," she sobbed. "Over there," she added, pointing to a sink before diving into a nearby toilet, sloshing the contents across the ground. Thankfully, it was only water and Harry cleared it away with a wave of his wand.

When he turned, Dumbledore was already at the sink, his own wand in hand and muttering as he inspected the fitting.

"See here, a rather brilliantly concealed sign," he whispered, gesturing for Harry to join him. "I found this the night Miss Weasley was possessed but could proceed no further."

Harry took in the image of the small snake engraved into the back of one of the taps, the magic coming off it almost non-existent. As subtle as it was, it held a familiarity to him. It was not Tom's but had many similarities.

"Slytherin," he whispered as he pressed his wand to the snake. It began moving, though it stayed in the same spot, the dim light of the bathroom making it appear as if moving gently across the faucet. Frowning, he reached out with just a finger and brushed it against the brass, nodding satisfactorily as he did so.

"Open," he hissed.

Both he and Dumbledore took a step back as the sink groaned and sunk into the floor, disappearing into the abyss, leaving only a large hole in its wake.

"Excellently done, Harry," Dumbledore praised, "and yet something so simple, unable to be replicated by any other."

Ignoring the words of the man, he sent a bright ball of light down what revealed itself to be a tunnel, his eyes widening slightly as it vanished leaving the darkness to prevail once again.

"Well, I can't imagine Slytherin creating an entrance that would kill him," he shrugged as he cast a cushioning charm on himself. "Shall we?"

Before Dumbledore could object, Harry had jumped into the hole, leaving the man to catch him up in his own time.

For a solid half minute, Harry sped through the twists and turns and was expelled suddenly and violently out of the end, landing in a heap amongst a pile of bones situated at the bottom. Glad he had cast the charm, he pushed himself to his feet with barely a second to spare before Dumbledore shot from the tunnel, laughing almost giddily.

"I must say, I could think of no way more exhilarating to find such a sought-after place," he announced, struggling to his feet.

Harry had to agree. Despite the nature of the visit, the tunnel had been quite a pleasant surprise. Apparently, Dumbledore too was an adrenaline seeker. Not commenting on it any further, he conjured another ball of light and sent it ahead of them through the only way forward; another tunnel, this one, however, having to be navigated through walking.

Dumbledore cut in front of him as he took his first steps towards it, pausing briefly to offer a look of apology.

"Forgive me, Harry, but in this instance, you're much more valuable to the world than I. If the serpent is loose, I am much more dispensable than yourself."

Harry gestured to him to continue with a frown. If the headmaster wanted to put himself in danger, who was he to argue with the fool. They continued in companionable silence until Dumbledore came to a stop, his wand lit and aloft, a wand that looked very familiar to what Cassie had described. Before he could broach the subject, Dumbledore stepped to the side, pointing towards something stretching across the floor.

It took Harry a moment to realise what it was, not having seen one so large before. He had been impressed when Mira had shed one over two metre's long, this however, was not even comparable. It had to be close to sixty feet.

"Quite the creature," Dumbledore mused aloud. "To be this size, Slytherin himself must have brought it here."

Harry nodded. The basilisks he had read about had been no longer than thirty feet in length. The one in the chamber would dwarf them easily and would be considerably more dangerous. He released a deep breath, debating whether it would be worth it. Eventually, he knew he would have to go into the chamber regardless of his feelings. He couldn't risk one of Tom's horcruxes remaining and it was the most credible place he would find one. He would much rather do so knowing he had someone as competent as Dumbledore with him, loathe to admit it as he was.

"We should keep going," he decided, "just stay alert."

The grip around his wand tightened as he continued to follow the old man, both much more cautious in their steps, the only sound coming from the occasional bone splintering as an errant one was stood on.

Eventually, they came upon a large door sealed by a lock in the middle made up of several snakes. Once again, Harry took control of the situation by running his hand over one of the serpents. The magic here was stronger, the caster finding no need to conceal their presence. It was intoxicating, yet still held a familiarity of Tom and even his own now that it stood more boldly.

"Open," he hissed again, quickly turning up against the wall to avoid anything inside being able to do see him. Dumbledore did the same and the duo waited long after the clanking of the door had faded into distant echoes before Dumbledore conjured a small mirror and angled it into the room.

"It is clear," he whispered.

Harry stepped into the room, his eyes scanning the area carefully and a spell dying on his lips as he realised the serpents within were made of stone. They lined a long walkway leading to an enormous carving of a man's face surrounded by a large pool of water.

"Fascinating," Dumbledore whispered.

Harry ignored the headmaster and began making his way towards the carving, his senses on high alert. There was much less magic to be felt within the room than he imagined only very faint traces that Tom had left behind during his visits. Worse yet, there was nothing that felt even closely like what the Horcruxes gave off and as he rounded the pool, he could conclude that there was not one close by unless it was within a hidden room. Waving his wand carefully, he checked the carving, breathing a sigh of relief once he had finished his spell work.

"There's nothing here, other than something living inside that," he explained, pointing to the carving.

"The basilisk," Dumbledore surmised.

"Yeah, but it can't come out unless it is called upon. A protection I'd believe was put in place by Salazar rather than Tom."

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied sagely. "Is there anything else you can feel?"

"Not much," Harry admitted. "There's some residual magic that feels more like Tom than Slytherin, but nothing like the horcruxes. If there was one here, I'd be able to feel it."

Dumbledore sighed.

"Just as I expected. The diary would have been created when Tom was still a pupil at school. If any would be housed here, it would have been that. He only visited on one other occasion and left the grounds before he would have had time to come here, of that, I am certain."

"When?" Harry asked curiously.

"A few years after he graduated. He came enquiring about the role of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. As you can understand, I was not thrilled with the idea of having him back within these walls. Tom, did not take it well, but he left immediately after our meeting."

"So, it isn't here," Harry huffed.

"No, but it was the best idea we had," Dumbledore comforted. "There are very few places known within the castle where Tom would feel safe hiding a piece of his soul. It would be very risky, particularly with me here."

"It would be foolish," Harry muttered, "but a risk he would take if he felt he could get away with it."

"You have another idea?"

Harry shook his head.

"No. But being down here isn't the best place to think," he pointed out.

"Then we shall return to my office. I daresay it is much more pleasant."

Harry gave a final look around the chamber as he exited, disappointed by the lack of anything. Seemingly, it only served as a place for Salazar to hide his monster. If there was anything more down here, it had not made itself known. Even if the faintest trace existed, he would have found it. Instead of lamenting on what was not to be, he followed the headmaster and the pair reached the tunnel entrance after another lengthy walk.

"Well, it looks like we have a climb ahead of us," Harry grumbled, the disappointment of the evening leaving him unmotivated for such.

"Fear not, Harry. I do have a trick or two that have proven to be useful in the past. If you would kindly take my sleeve."

Harry did so and choked as he was consumed by a sudden heat and flash of light. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in the office the pair had left some time ago still holding on to Dumbledore's arm. The man simply grinned and stroked the plumage of his familiar who chirped contentedly.

"Useful," Harry commented. "Why couldn't he have taken us in?"

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Phoenixes are rather spectacular creatures, Harry, but they also have their limits. Fawkes was only able to enter the chamber because I was in there, his bond with myself much stronger than what remains of the wards. Forgive me for being so literal, but thousand-year-old wards are not strong unless they are maintained regularly. The problem those ones posed was little more than a language barrier. That was there greatest asset."

"Makes sense," Harry agreed. "It doesn't bring us any closer to where the horcrux is."

"It does not," Dumbledore muttered.

"Well, instead of gallivanting off to Merlin knows where, why don't you fools speak to Rowena's daughter? She does reside within these walls," the hat called mockingly.

Dumbledore deflated and shook his head.

"Could you not have mentioned this before we left?"

"I did try. You two were intent on being fools, so I allowed it. What more do you want from me, Albus? I'm a bloody hat."

The garment fell silent once again and Dumbledore took a seat behind his desk, tugging his beard as he pondered their predicament.

"It was rumoured that Helena stole her mother's diadem and fled as a young woman. She returned and was disowned by Rowena on her death bed."

"Who is her daughter?"

"Ahh, forgive me, Harry. It can only be one lady I have come across on a few occasions. She is known affectionately as the grey lady, the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower."

"How would Tom have found out who she was?"

"Tom, as I'm sure you are aware, is a rather charming and charismatic man, well, he was as a young man. Such tact is no longer needed any longer when so many fear him so."

"So, he charmed a ghost?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"In my experience, even those long passed seek redemption. Who easier to manipulate than a woman desperate to redeem herself in the eyes of her mother?"

"If Tom promised her he would return it, she could have been convinced to let him know where it was," Harry conceded.

"Then let us waste no more time, Harry. She often frequents the Astronomy Tower in the evening. It was a place very dear to her mother."

Again, Harry found himself following the man through the corridors of the castle, this time their destination much easier to reach and unlikely to house anything so dangerous as a basilisk. He had been pleased he had managed to avoid the climb out of the chamber, but the number of stairs in the castle and leading up the tower more than made up for it. The first indication they had arrived came as Dumbledore pushed open a door and a cool breeze washed over him. Even during the summer, Scottish nights had a briskness to them.

"Good evening, my lady. I was hoping you would be able to assist myself and my companion," Dumbledore's voice sounded.

Harry stepped from behind the man and found himself facing the ghost of a young woman. Even in death, she was hauntingly beautiful and in life, would undoubtedly have been more so. Her long, black her was plaited down her back and the dress she wore white and formfitting. The thing that detracted from her beauty was the look of mourning she wore that seemed a permanent fixture. Even in death, her eyes were longing, searching for something likely to never be found.

"It is my duty to serve you, headmaster," she replied, her eyes flickering to Harry and widening slightly.

"I wish to discuss with you a certain student that may have happened across you several decades ago, one, Tom Riddle."

The look of mourning was replaced with one of fury as the woman turned her attention back to Dumbledore.

"Do not speak of him," she hissed.

She began sobbing and turned away, slumping over the parapet of the tower.

"My lady, I did not wish to upset you, merely right any wrong he had done."

"None can right what he did to my mother's crown. Such desecration cannot be undone. Now, be gone. I will speak of it no further."

With her final words spoken, she turned away once more and gazed towards the night sky. Dumbledore looked to Harry almost pleadingly and the younger man stepped forward, resting his arms atop the rough stone.

"It can be fixed," he began and the woman's head turned towards him. "I know it can be fixed because I have removed his taint from other things, even from myself. I housed a part of his soul for a number of years before I was healed."

The young woman looked at him hopefully and he reached out, placing his hand over hers, ignoring the icy feel of her touch.

"I'm going to kill him, Helena. To be able to do it, I need to know where it is hidden."

The woman met his stare and swallowed after it felt though she had seen into his soul.

"You're very much like him, but different. There's a warmth in you that he never had," she whispered and sighed before turning away, her eyes fixed once more towards the stars above. "It is in the castle, in the room of hidden things. He took great glee in showing me what he had done to it."

"Thank you, my lady," Harry returned with a bow.

"Thank me by fixing what he did and return my mother's crown to the school, where it belongs."

Harry nodded before he walked back to Dumbledore, the man waiting patiently several feet away.

"Do you know where the room of hidden things is?" he asked.

Dumbledore frowned but nodded after a moment.

"Another lesser known secret of the castle. Worry not, I believe this one will be much easier to locate, Harry," the older man assured him as they descended from the tower and arrived on the seventh floor. "This way."

Harry followed the man into a corridor that had no doors, the sconces on the wall not even being lit.

"This part of the castle is seldom visited. I found myself here once when I taught Transfiguration. I had gotten lost and was in need of a chamber pot. Lo and behold, this corridor provided exactly what I needed."

"And you think it could provide a place for hiding things?"

"Much, much more I suspect," Dumbledore replied excitedly, "but certainly a place to hide something."

"Well, how do we find it?"

"I remember pacing back and forth along this very wall, my needs very much occupying my mind. After a while, a door appeared and inside I found all manner of chamber pots, enough for any need to be met. When I left, the room vanished, and I have yet to find it again since. Perhaps you will be more fortunate in locating the elusive room."

With a shrug, Harry began pacing up and down the corridor, his thoughts set on locating the room of hidden things as named by Helena Ravenclaw. He was on the verge of considering it a failure when to his right, a large oak door appeared in the wall. For a moment, he was surprised it had worked, though he shouldn't have been. In his admittedly few years on this planet, he had seen many wondrous things. A room hidden by wards was quite time in comparison.

Any notion of this merely being a hidden room within the castle vanished as he pushed open the door and was greeted by the sight of a room larger than even the Great Hall could be. It was then that he realised that this was more than just another room, this was something else altogether.

"How?" he asked dumbly.

Dumbledore shook his head.

"Sometimes, Harry, the beauty is not knowing all the answers. I believe that this room is one of those things where we should ask no questions but marvel at it for what it is."

Harry nodded his agreement. Undoubtedly, there was some very complex magic at work here. If what Dumbledore had said was true, then it was likely this room could become almost anything one could wish for. For amazing as it was, it could be equally dangerous if left unchecked. He had no doubt that Dumbledore would be investigating the room to ensure it posed no danger to the students.

"I think we have a lot of work to do," he mused aloud as the duo crossed the threshold.

For how big the room had proven to be, it was almost full to the brim with an assortment of items ranging from books and portraits, to full suits of armour and various weapons.

"Perhaps, but I believe you will be much quicker locating it if it is indeed here," Dumbledore replied optimistically.

"We'd better get to it," Harry sighed, leading a path through the debris and accumulated wares dating back to merlin only knew.

The pair worked in silence, stopping occasionally to investigate something that caught their attention. Amongst a pile of books, Harry located some rare tomes that even the Black library was missing and so he shrunk and pocketed them unapologetically along with some other books that seemed to have been penned by hand.

"I must ensure the students do not come across this," Dumbledore whispered as he levitated a shrivelled and mummified corpse from a pile of discarded robes. "What an unpleasant death for this poor soul."

"I think this whole room should be condemned," Harry added. "There are things here that even my family would not involve themselves in."

Dumbledore nodded severely.

"I will dispose of those things. Anything valuable can be sold and added to the school fund. Of course, anything you come across that would be useful and not illegal, is yours as my co-founder."

Harry nodded appreciatively, surprised by the generosity of the man. It was a strange feeling coexisting with him even if it were only temporary and in the interest of putting an end to Tom. Were it not for their shared foe, Harry would likely refuse to be in the same room as the headmaster, even for all the gold in Gringotts.

Suddenly, he stopped proceeding as a familiar magic washed over his periphery for a split second. Closing his eyes, he felt for it again and it brushed over his own almost willing him to find it.

"It's here," he announced, drawing his wand and slowly making his way in the direction of what he had come to know well.

Dumbledore said nothing but Harry could feel him following a few paces behind, his own wand in hand. He had to focus on the magic as it was not so close but it became stronger the further into the room he moved. As it had in the Gaunt home, the feeling soon became overwhelming and it pulsed against his own magic in an almost welcoming rhythm. Harry pushed that thought aside as his eyes were drawn to stone bust of a warlock of which a rather old and dated diadem was perched upon the head.

"There," he said, pointing to the object with his wand.

"Indeed," Dumbledore whispered, "I can feel his magic."

Carefully, Harry levitated the tiara from the head and levitated it a few feet in front of himself and the headmaster.

"There doesn't seem to be any other curses on it, but I wouldn't recommend touching it, just to be safe."

Dumbledore nodded as he conjured and ornate box lined with a black glassy substance.

"Obsidian," he explained. "It should be able to house it until the taint can be removed. It would be a shame to destroy such an important part of the school's history."

With his decision made, he sealed the box with an intricate locking charm before pulling it out of the air and handing it to Harry who looked at him in confusion.

"As a favour to the school, I would ask that you have the horcrux removed so that it may be as it was intended."

Harry nodded before shrinking the box and pocketing it. A trip to Egypt was required to deal with the cup already, taking the diadem was not an imposition. Despite his feelings about Britain, Hogwarts had housed and educated generations of his family on both sides. Returning a piece of the founding history was the least he could do.

"Only the snake left," he reminded the older man.

Dumbledore smiled as he nodded, his eyes twinkling behind his spectacles.

"It is my final wish to see the end of Voldemort. When done, perhaps I can rest a little easier."

"You mean Tom?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"To me, he will always be Tom, the same boy I brought into our world. The Tom I knew then, had his issues but I never could have guessed he would become what he has. No, Harry, Tom died many, many years ago when he murdered his own kin and Voldemort was born."

"You think of them as two different people," Harry stated.

"Forgive me, Harry, but I like to look for the best in all. Tom was troubled, had tendencies developed through years of hardship. There is no good in Voldemort, not even I am so blind to believe otherwise. When I hear him speak, I hear Tom's voice, but his actions do not mimic those of the boy. He was not made a prefect nor head boy for no reason during his time here. He was harsh when needed but merciful also. I mourn the boy I knew even if I wasn't fond of him."

For the first time, Harry began to understand Dumbledore, his outlook on life perhaps having caused many a problem, but deep down, he believed in the best people had to offer. He could only imagine the amount of times he had bee disappointed throughout his life by Tom and others he had come across.

"What about Grindelwald?"

Dumbledore's eyes filled with sadness at the mention of the name.

"Gellert was my friend. The both of us two very ambitious fools. My ambition died with my sister and his only grew along with his bitterness. I tried all I could to avoid the inevitable. In the end, he died by wand because I did nothing to curb his actions, the same as with Tom. Perhaps I can be blamed for them both to an extent or perhaps they would have become what they were in the end without me. I see it as my duty to put an end to Voldemort as I did Gellert all those decades ago, as loathe as I am to do it."

"But it will be me killing Tom," Harry pointed out.

"As is your right, Harry. He has caused you more pain than any, me included. I will never ask for your forgiveness as I never have Gellert or Tom. It is I that carry the burden of my mistakes and they are cumbersome. I can only hope that when it is time to take the next great adventure, the weigh me down much less."

Harry could only nod, not wanting to discuss the mistakes the man had made, many as they were where he was concerned.

"And what about the Elder Wand. Do you intend to take that with you?"

A look of shock replaced the sadness of the old man and he chuckled after a moment as he drew the wand once more.

"It was only a matter of time before somebody figured it out. I was hoping that I would be long past by then and the wand with me. It too is a heavy burden to carry, one in which the cons outweigh the pros. As I'm sure you worked out, Gellert had it in his possession the day I defeated him. I have come to learn that the wand is not all the legend told. It is a wand of great power, make no mistake, but it is not infallible, much like myself. I carry it more of a reminder that I too am prone to mistakes, though usually much bigger than the average person."

"So, why carry it? You could have disposed of it any time."

"I could, but then I would spend my days worrying whom it was would come upon it next and what they would do with it. As I said, it is not infallible but still an exceptionally powerful wand."

He ran a finger across the length lovingly, his eyes glazing over as he lost himself in memories past.

"And it is the only thing you have left of him," Harry pointed out, pulling the headmaster from his thoughts.

"That too, Harry," he admitted.

Harry could not fault the man for it. He too now understood what it was to care for someone so much that the rest of the world could burn so long as their smile could be seen reflecting off the flames.

"The hallows were our dream. We would unite them and spend the rest of our days together knowing we had done what no other in history had. It was foolish, but so were we; young fools in love."

If the man was looking for pity, he would get none from Harry. He had been responsible for much of the hardship he had faced, and though they were temporarily working together, their relationship would never blossom beyond the truce they had silently agreed upon.

"The power the Dark Lord knows not," Harry muttered, the words of the prophecy coming to the forefront of his mind.

"The wand?" Dumbledore questioned.

Harry shook his head.

"The Hallows."

"Such a task to unite them is the work of several lifetimes. Even the combined efforts of myself and Gellert resulted in him locating only the wand, the easiest to track of the three. No, Harry, your weapon against Tom is something he has no understanding of; Love."

"Love will do nothing against the power of Tom. It is not love that will defeat him because I have very little of that and only for a few people. Those I care for are not why I want him dead. If I was doing it for them, I wouldn't be doing it at all. I would flee just as they all wish me to. I am doing this because he has wronged me and his death by my hands is the only thing that will give me closure. Sorry, Dumbledore, I am not doing this for any noble reason you wish to believe in."

"Do you truly believe that killing him will make you feel better?" the headmaster tried.

"Yes. Cutting him down may not bring Charlie back but it will go some way to righting the wrongs he has done to me."

"I see," Dumbledore sighed. "Perhaps I wish for everyone to be so noble in their deeds, that I fail to see the hatred and anger burning within them. Perhaps the problem is not with the world but with the way I try to see it. Forgive me, Harry, but I do not understand hate and anger the way you do."

"And that is why we will never see eye to eye," Harry returned. "You believe the things you have done are and were for the good of everyone. I serve only those of my blood, as is expected of me. I do not enjoy inflicting pain and suffering on others, but I will do so to keep those I care about safe. I have no delusions of grandeur because I believe that being the Lord Black is the greatest honour I will ever receive in my life. To me, there is no higher position, none that I would seek beyond what I am."

"A Black through and through," Dumbledore replied amusedly before he sobered. "Do you find it strange that I believe you?"

"It doesn't matter to me if you don't."

Dumbledore stared at him speculatively before nodding and offering Harry his wand by the handle.

"If this were to fall into the hands of anyone with delusions of grandeur or lofty ambitions beyond their station, it could prove to catastrophic. The history of the wand is bloody, each passing from one person to the next being the result of murder. I thought I would have to bury it with me in the hope the legacy became lost. Alas, you have proven to me that is a foolish notion. Somewhere at some time, there will be others seeking this out. They may never find it, but I would not take that chance."

"You're giving it to me?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Perhaps it will indeed prove the power that Tom knows not. I would sooner give this to you than see you fall, the rest of wizarding Britain with you. If it proves to be incorrect, then nothing has been lost."

Harry hesitated as he reached for the wand and Dumbledore released a deep breath.

"I am an old man, Harry, one that has lived many years and not likely many more. Tom may succeed in killing me and if he were to learn of the wand and it were to come into his possession, your job would exponentially more difficult. It is better I take a chance on you and have faith that you are as good a man as I believe than let it fall into the hands of one that has proven himself irredeemable."

"What if I took it and killed you?"

"Then I would be proven wrong once again. Do not make me the fool for a third time, my boy."

The power of the wand thrummed through him as he gripped it, though it was not the warmth he was expecting. The magic was cold but held the same familiarity as the stone, the cloak and part of his own magic. It felt as if the magic within the wand nestled into his own, almost sighing the same way one would when sinking into a hot bath. It became a part of him immediately, content that it had found something it had been searching for. To him, it felt not a burden as Dumbledore had described. The weight was noticeable but did not sit heavy.

"That's quite a wand," he muttered.

As he met the eyes of the headmaster, the man was frowning thoughtfully.

"I should have warned you, but it seems our reactions were quite different when we held it for the first time. I found myself struggling to assimilate it with my magic. It took many weeks to tame it or for us to reach a somewhat tentative bond, yet, it seems to have accepted you readily. How do you feel?"

"It was cold, but I feel fine," Harry answered with a shrug. "It feels like it belongs with me. Maybe it is the Peverell blood."

"If you do indeed have Peverell blood, it would explain rather a lot," Dumbledore returned. "No matter, it is not something one should dwell on. We should both simply be grateful that it was a smooth transition."

Harry was only half listening to the man as he inspected the wand. There was little noteworthy to be seen. The wood was almost as pale as bone and berries had been carved into the shaft. Other than the evenly spaced knots of wood, it was like any other wand other than the feeling it gave him. Just holding it in his hand made him feel like he could level the entire room with a single curse.

The conversation between the two went no further as an ethereal lynx appeared before them.

"Albus, Death Eaters in Diagon Alley. He is with them!"

Harry had turned to leave the room before the patronus had vanished, only to be stopped in his tracks by Dumbledore.

"If you wish to get there quicker, Harry, might I remind you I have a certain advantage we can put to use."

Harry paused in his steps and fired off two patroni of his own as he made his decision. It would be foolish to not seize the advantage at hand.

"You and your people keep your distance. I will deal with Tom," he commanded, his magic already pulsing through his veins in anticipation of the impending fight.

"As you wish," Dumbledore complied as he grabbed Harry by the wrist, the two vanishing in a plume of fire only a second later.

(BREAK)

"He's been gone for hours. Don't you think we should go after him?" Sirius questioned worriedly. He, along with Leo, Arcturus and Cassie were sat around the table in Grimmauld Place waiting for Harry to return.

"He is fine, Sirius," Arcturus replied confidently. "Dumbledore would not be so foolish nor brazen to attempt anything as things are. You must remember; he believes that Harry is destined to kill the Dark Lord. He will do nothing to jeopardise that."

Sirius nodded but was not mollified by the reasoning. He did not trust Dumbledore as far as he could throw the old git. The man would go to any lengths necessary to get what he wanted. He knew this from experience.

"Aye, we will give him a little longer or I will go after him," Leo interjected, his posture stiff in his uneasiness of the situation.

The group fell silent, the only sound to be heard in the room the gentle ticking of the morbid clock adorning the wall. Just as the began becoming restless again, a large three-headed snake appeared in the room and spoke to them in the voice of the young man plaguing their thoughts.

"Tom is in Diagon Alley. Dad, Leo, get yourselves here. Cassie and Grandfather, make sure the house and Bellatrix are secure. I'm not taking any chances with him."

Leo immediately sprung to his feet followed by Sirius who looked towards Arcturus questioningly.

"He is the Lord of our family, it is he you should be following," the old man instructed.

It was clear that he has unhappy with his role, his preference being in the thick of the action. However, he was not one to disobey an order. Harry would have his reasons for wanting him here, if only to ensure the safety of the house and security of their most prized prisoner. Pondering it further, he had to agree. Tom was far too unpredictable to take any chances. If he had any inclination that Bellatrix was here, he would come for her.

He watched as Leo and Sirius vanished before his eyes, lamenting on the days it would be him leading the family through such issues, but he smiled, nevertheless. He had made the right choice in heir and had vacated his position at the right time. His tired bones could no longer cope with responsibility of leading their great family.

Doing as he was bid, he checked the wards around the home as Cassie went to check on his granddaughter. Over his dead body would any make it past the threshold of the house.

(BREAK)

Harry and Dumbledore arrived amidst the chaos of battle, both conjuring a large slab of marble to intercept a plethora of curses sent their way as they appeared. Giving a cursory glance around to ascertain his position, Harry noted the tide of the battle had yet to turn in favour of either side. He had his back to the combined forces of the aurors and the members of the order that had pulled together close to Florean Fortescue's, sheltered behind a series of makeshift barriers to protect them from spell fire. At the very front, leading by example, was James Potter, locked in a furious duel with a Death Eater confident enough in his abilities to defend himself from the onslaught sent his way. The rest of the group were locked in combat with the forces the Dark Lord had gathered but there was no sign of the man himself.

Another barrage of spells smashed against his hastily erected construct as he spotted a head of bright, pink hair amongst those to his rear. With a growl, he aimed his wand at a death eater that had taken the high ground on a nearby roof, intent on seizing an advantage for himself. With a whipping motion, the invisible line he had created pulled taut and he tugged, eliciting a scream from the man as he was hurled from the roof and hit the cobbled pavement with a loud crack. Unmoving, he continued to scream in agony until he was silenced by another spell courtesy of Harry.

For a brief moment, there was a lull in the battle as both sides had paused to witness the demise of the man, both shocked by the viscous and sudden display of ruthlessness. Dumbledore gave him a questioning look and Harry shrugged, unconcerned by the disapproval. He was not the headmaster, nor did they share the same morals. He was not willing to risk being injured or killed because he was merciful. It was him or them and he had no intention of it being the former.

Firing off a plume of thick fog towards his foes, he headed to where he had spotted the familiar mop of hair and found himself pulled into the arms of Tonks who was amongst her colleagues who looked at him nervously.

"I got your patronus whilst I was already here. How did you know about it?"

"I was with Dumbledore when Shacklebolt sent the message. Leo and Sirius should be here soon. Where's Tom?" he questioned, his eyes scanning the opposing group who had managed to dispel his fog.

Tonks stared at him fearfully, the concern evident in her tense features.

"He was here but didn't stay long," she sighed.

"So, he is here for a reason. Did you see where he went?"

She shook her head apologetically, worrying her lower lip.

"It's going to happen Dora. You already know it."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it, Harry," she bit back.

He gave her a sad smile as he squeezed her gently before the pair were interrupted by the arrival of Leo and Sirius, both seemingly itching for a fight.

"Alright, Black, put her down. There'll be plenty of time for that later," Leo quipped as he drew his wand and fired off a blasting curse towards a group of approaching, masked witches and wizards.

His spell hit the intended mark, leaving a sizable crater in between the groups, spraying debris amongst the Dark Lord's forces. Most managed to shield with only a few being taken out of the equation momentarily. The spell, however, had the desired affect by dispersing the closely-knit group, sending them back towards their own lines.

Taking advantage of the respite, Harry turned to Sirius and Leo, grateful he had them along with Tonks amongst so many potential enemies, from both sides of the conflict.

"Dad, go and protect James. The last thing we need is any political issues to deal with. At the moment, he is our greatest asset."

Sirius frowned, but did not object before he headed off to carry out his task. Harry knew the man would much rather be by his side, but he was most familiar with James and how he fought. He was the best option to protect the new minister.

"Leo, work with the aurors. If they are as unprepared as I expect, they will need your help." Leo nodded but was held back by Harry as he turned away. "Keep an eye on them. If anyone seems as though they are going to do something stupid, take them out."

Leo gripped his shoulder tightly, the look he gave solemn and reassuring.

"Aye, I will."

"What about me?" Tonks asked.

"Shouldn't you be asking Moody?" Harry answered with a grin.

"I'm asking you, you idiot," she returned.

Harry snorted.

"You'll be with me. Make sure no one interferes when Tom decides to show his face."

Tonks' grip tightened around her wand as she readied herself. The Death Eaters seemed to have recovered somewhat from his and Leo's attacks and were forming up into small groups, but they didn't attack. They simply waited for the aurors to engage them causing Harry to begin pondering the situation further.

"What the bloody hell are they doing?" Leo called.

Harry's eyes widened as he cursed himself. It was not Tom's way to meet on an even battlefield. Though he could not have been certain of the resistance he would face, he had prepared accordingly and the only thing the force in front of him could be was a distraction.

"What could be so important for him to take such risk?" Harry questioned himself internally.

Diagon Alley was nothing more than a shopping district. There was only one place of importance here and that was Gringotts. Shifting his gaze towards the bank in the distance, the wards were visible, likely having been activated as soon as the goblins became aware of the conflict just outside their walls.

He shook his head. Even Tom would not be so foolish to attempt such a brazen assault against them and certainly not on his own. No, something else must have brought him here.

He got his answer only a moment later when an almighty explosion rent the air from nearby and Harry instinctively pulled Tonks to the ground to avoid the whistling splinters of wood and chunks of mortar sent their way. Spell fire from the Death Eaters followed instantly. Using his wand, he ripped up a large section of pavement and cocooned it around them just in time for several unknown curses to impact against it.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked frantically.

Tonks nodded and he pushed himself to his feet as he banished their temporary shield towards the Death Eaters, only for it to be destroyed mid-air by a blasting curse.

Amid the explosion, the enemy had been riled into a frenzy, their unusually placid presence all but absent. Spell after spell left their wands, their only intent being to cause maximum damage and fatalities before they undoubtedly fled, as was their way.

The aurors had been put on the backfoot, relegated to merely defending themselves from the sudden onslaught. Harry could here Leo shouting instructions, trying to regain some semblance of composure amongst the ranks, his voice seemingly falling on deaf ears as many hid behind their makeshift barriers, hoping to avoid the carnage.

Knowing something had to be done, he took Tonks by the wrist and pulled her behind a large piece of rock that been torn from either a building or the pavement, he knew not.

He began muttering under his breath, weaving his wand in intricate patterns as Tonks looked on curiously. It took a few moments to finish his work and he hoped it would be enough to make the needed difference. So long as the Death Eaters felt they held the advantage, their attack would continue.

He fired off a patronus each to Sirius and Leo to warn them of the expected effects and turned to Tonks.

"What did you do?"

"You will want to cover your eyes," he advised as he banished the rock into the sky before erecting a mage shield around himself and the woman.

As he had anticipated, it was hit with a blasting curse as his other projectile had been. However, this one did not simply explode, it hovered above the gathered Death Eaters and trembled violently, emitting a sound like rumbling thunder.

"Shields," a voice screamed.

Even before the voice had sounded, the rock erupted into a white ball of blinding light, a stark contrast to the night sky, blinding any unfortunate soul that had not looked away in time. With another rumble, chunks of glowing rock broke off steadily and fell, landing amongst the Dark Lord's followers. At first, it appeared as though nothing was happening until a pained scream could be heard followed by several more.

Harry grinned maliciously as he spotted a robed figure collapse to the ground, a scream of agony and shock being pulled from his throat. He clawed desperately at his face and unwittingly pulled the mask away, revealing his rapidly decaying skin, illuminated by the still crumbling rock above acting as a spotlight.

A few people emptied their stomachs at the sight of the spectacle, the sound of retching and the resulting vomit able to be heard in between the screams of those that fell victim to the attack and the stunned silence from the onlookers.

Unwilling to wait for any rebuttal, Harry fired off a string of curses, hoping to catch the morbidly captivated Death Eaters off guard, only for a figure to emerge from the masses and bat his efforts away almost effortlessly.

"I must admit, I am surprised to see you, Harry," Voldemort greeted him with a mocking bow, his crimson eyes narrowed in distaste.

Harry gritted his teeth as he readied himself.

"Surprised?" he growled. "Did your little pets not pass on my message?"

He fired off another flurry of spells, not waiting to trade barbs with the man. He wanted him dead, not for conversation. The time for talking was over and there was nothing more to be said.

Voldemort side-stepped the spells, evidently not recognising some of darker offerings the Blacks had in their arsenal. The followers behind him were not so lucky as three fell where they stood, one bursting into green flames from the inside out, one having their throat torn out and the other with a viscous substance pouring from their nose and ears, the brain having been liquefied inside the skull.

"That was rather impolite," Voldemort sighed uncaringly. "It is fortunate for you that I have much more pressing matters to attend to this evening."

He held out a hand and summoned something into his grasp. Something turned out to be someone and Harry was met with the sight of a barely standing Ollivander. Had Tom not been holding the man by the throat, it was unlikely he would be upright by his volition.

"You see, I believe that our resident wandmaker may have some fascinating information for me. Well, it appears that he did for you. Learning that you visited him certainly piqued my curiosity enough to orchestrate our little gathering tonight. I will be seeing you, Harry. When I decide we should face one another once more," Tom finished before vanishing in a puff of dark smoke, his final words ringing in the ears of those remaining.

The Death Eaters also took it as their cue to make a hasty retreat leaving only the ministry entourage, the order and Harry with his own allies

"Fucking coward," he spat, the weight of the Elder wand concealed in his left sleeve feeling heavier.

He had not used it during the short battle, not trusting a wand he had not practiced with. Instead, he had opted to use his own wand, the one he was familiar with and had yet to let him down. Not that it had this time either. Tom's cowardice had been the deciding factor for how this encounter had concluded.

He snorted at Tom's premature foray into the open, now leaving any doubters with no such thing any longer. Ollivander could help him very little. At most, the man could reveal their discussion, but it as already too late. Harry had already secured the wand and Tom would be wasting time if he decided to pursue it. He felt for the wandmaker. On both occasions they had met, he had been respectful, helpful and a font of knowledge about his chosen lore, but there was little to be done for the man.

Harry did not have the trusted manpower to carry out a rescue mission on Malfoy Manor and it would be likely only him able to get through the wards. The cloak was a boon but as with everything, it was not infallible, and he could not risk a failing emerging whilst in such a vulnerable position, not until he was assured of his victory. There were too many unknowns about Tom, his operation and the manor to attempt a meaningful recovery of the man and any other prisoner that was held there.

He sighed as he shook his head. He wanted Tom dead, but he had to be cautious. He was not feared for no reason and Harry fully intended on surviving their inevitable meeting. The continuation of his family depended on it, as did the happiness of the woman now attempting to soothe the back of his hand with a thumb.

"What are you going to do, Harry?" Tonks whispered.

"Nothing, for now," he replied. "I have to be patient, Dora. But there is one person that might be able to give me an edge."

His thoughts wandered to the woman held prisoner in the family home. If anyone knew of any advantages he could use against Tom, it would be his right-hand-woman.