Time keeps slipping away from me, but at least I'm on the correct day this time. Please R&R and enjoy! ~F

Chapter Eleven

Reunion

The time had come.

Hermione stood nervously in central room of Orthanc, waiting for the final preparations to be completed for the assault of Malfoy Manor. Draco was at the opposite side of the room, deep in conversation with Cælin, Marshal of the Westfold and chief advisor to King Ceolwulf of Rohan, while Ron was nearby making last minute strategy changes with Gornuk, who was reprising his role as the white council representative for Ragnok, exiled Lord of Gringotts.

They were all waiting for Harry and Faykan to return with word from the dwarves and the Beornings, either of which would prove to be vital allies for this fight. The forces of Rohan, while strong and still quite high in numbers, were stretched too thin, and the massive number of battles was quickly wearing them all out. Fresh soldiers were needed to reinforce this offensive, and either race should be spoiling for a chance to fight orcs.

Central to everyone's interest were the six living elves that had returned with Harry and Faykan the previous day. Unfortunately, and quite unlike what she had heard about their kind, they were a somber lot, and kept mainly to themselves in the upper floors of the tower. They would occasionally speak with Faykan or Harry, but otherwise Hermione had only seen them when they had arrived, and not since.

The sharp crack of apparition drew all their attention, and Hermione frowned sadly to see Harry appear alone in the room with them. He shook his head as he approached. "The dwarves are too preoccupied with securing their new boarders and stabilizing their kingdom since the death of Náin. Thráin would want nothing more than to commit troops to our cause, but it just isn't possible for them at this time."

Hermione was saddened. She had not yet had the pleasure of meeting the newly anointed King under the Mountain, and from what she heard he sounded like a jovial fellow. "However," Harry continued, catching her attention once again, "my errand to them was not unfruitful. Even now the dwarves in all their many lands are forging with all haste, creating arms and armor to supply armies by the tens of thousands. They are more than committed to our cause, and when the need comes, they shall heed the call to war. It is simply too soon at this present hour."

"Still," Hermione said, uncomforted, "It is a hard thing to bear on our own right now. Will others come only when our need is dire?"

"Do not lose hope Hermione," Harry replied quickly, taking hold of her arm, "Fear not this oncoming darkness, for we will pass through to find the light beyond it."

"Well said, dear Kentano," sounded a clear voice from the door of the tower. Faykan entered, a smile lighting the room like a noonday sun. "We are not alone in this war, nor in this battle."

Behind him, towering well over the Istari and nearly brushing the arch of the doors, stood Beornhelm, leader and chieftain of the Beornings, his face grim and a broad axe in his hands.

Even more surprising was the person at the mighty Beornings' side.

"Neville!" Ron called from across the room, and the former Hogwarts students surged together, pelting the once round-faced boy with many questions, chief among which was why he was no longer at the school himself.

"I escaped," Neville responded, smiling triumphantly, "with some help from the D.A. and Professor Snape."

He then went on to describe in great detail the atrocities that were going on at the school by Theodore Nott and the Carrow twins, each a glorified bully in their own right, as they forced the students to practice dark curses on each other and preaching heavy anti-muggle philosophy. Neville had taken charge of the D.A. in their absence, waging a war the likes of which only the pranks upon Umbridge had any chance of rivaling.

"But they knew that I was the ringleader," Neville explained, "So they wanted to make an example of me, but Professor Snape was notified, and smuggled me out of the castle and to my Gran's, who was in direct contact with her kin. So, here we are…" He shrugged then, smiling regardless despite the bruising and cut that were still healing on his face.

"It is good to see you," Harry said, "We have a battle to win, if you're ready to fight?"

Neville grinned, looking wilder than the boy had ever before, "I'm ready to take the fight back to the Death Eaters, any day, any time."

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Bellatrix was infuriated at her Lord leaving her behind in Britain while he took the majority of their forces off to start conquering the world. Was she not the most loyal, most power, and most devoted of his followers?

And yet, here she was, guarding the home country while Lucius had his way with playing Minister from behind the scenes. It was downright unfair, and a complete waste of her skills and abilities.

As she stalked through the hallways of the large Wiltshire Manor, most of the wizards and other servants knew well to stay out of her way, but still… something felt out of place.

Pausing at a nearby window that looked out over Lucius' well over gaudy gardens and lawns that no one used anymore, she still couldn't shake away the sense of wrongness in the manor.

Just as she turned away from the window to find Lucius, a mighty explosion rocked the entire building, knocking her to her knees. Bellatrix could feel the wards dropping from every direction of the manor. But that was impossible, she had seen to strengthening the Malfoy wards herself. Only a blood relative could wrest control of them now…

Realization struck like a weighted blow.

Draco had to be betraying their family secrets, allowing their enemies free access to his own father's home. The filthy little blood traitor. Sprinting like a proverbial demon, Bellatrix homed in on Lucius' position in the main entryway. The master of the manor would have felt the wards drop as well, and would be readying their guards and the reserve warriors on the grounds for a battle.

Eager to join in the blossoming conflict outside, Bellatrix skipped down the stairs toward the front doors, snarling at the flashes of light and clashes of metal that she spied through the many windows. Orcs were swarming from the underground caverns that had long been under construction on the manor grounds, clashing with massive men with wild beards and great axes in their hands and massive bear animagi.

She had never heard of so many wizards having the same form, but at the same time, she wouldn't put it past Alatar and his forces to dredge up some long lost force that had that ability.

As she reached the final landing of the manor's ground floor, which opened into a wide entrance hall much like Hogwarts, albeit less massive and grand, Bellatrix saw a full fledge battle had already broken out inside the Manor. Rohirric soldiers were pouring in from the great front doors, which had been blasted off their hinges in the chaos of the opening minutes of battle, and now orcs and Death Eaters, including Lucius himself, were desperately fighting to push the invaders back. Leading this charge were six strangely clad warriors, who moved swiftly and almost gracefully from orc to orc, the pointed ears on their head given clear sign that they were not human.

Cackling with blood fuelled glee, Bellatrix joined the fray, blasting a pair of attackers as she vaulted from the last steps. But even as she arrived, ready for a fight, the crowd gathered before the blasted entryway parted, revealing her most hated foes.

"Behold me, family!" the blood traitor declared as he held his blasted sword held aloft, even as the wards around the Manor bucked, fluctuating as they were modified by a blood member of the Malfoy name.

Bellatrix snarled as the boy's magic flared around him. She would rid their family of this stain, and purge these thorns from her Lord's side once and for all.

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Draco gazed calmly across the entrance hall of what was once his home. It resembled nothing like what he remembered from his childhood. Aside from the blood and bodies that currently littered the floor, there was a subtlety about it that spoke volumes of difference. The walls and pillars supporting the floors above hadn't been cleaned in a while, and the candles had all burned down to stubs.

Lucius clearly was at a loss how to manage his own home without Narcissa to assist him, and the filth that covered the far corners told a far darker story, regarding the vile orcs and their Death Eater allies that had taken up residence.

Worse still was the sense of darkness in the air. There was no doubt in Draco's mind that Voldemort himself had been here for long periods of time, his evil aura leeching the very warmth and happiness from the building. A surge of warmth flowed through him from Andúril, giving him the strength to speak what must be said to his wayward relatives.

Stepping forward, slightly away from Harry, Faykan, and the rest, he opened his mouth, speaking the words as they came to his heart. "I am Draco, dragon of the house of Telcontar, returned from my wrongful exile to announce the return of the days of the king, and the blossoming of the glory once had of old!"

"You filthy blood traitor!" snarled his aunt, Bellatrix LeStrange, from the base of the main staircase. Nearby, Lucius stood with several of his fellows, gaping at Draco but making no move to stop him.

"The time has come Aunt," Draco countered, unafraid of her ranting, "Your precious Master is not here to stop us from ridding our bloodline of his taint. The tyranny of the Purebloods will come to an end!"

"Seize him!" the mad witch cried, causing the moment to be broken and battle to resume. Draco leapt into action, ducking the first orc blade that swung for his head, before spinning out of the way of a stray spell, before cleaving the beast with the king's sword.

Harry and Faykan at his side exploded into small whirlwinds of death, charging headlong into the thickest parts of the battle, staffs and swords sending foes all around them scrambling back for cover.

At the far end of the room, Bellatrix was shouting orders at the top of her lungs, even as she rolled her sleeve back to reveal the hideous Dark Mark on her arm. Draco knew what the woman was intending, and he couldn't allow her to ruin their attack by summoning Voldemort, and so he sprinted through the fray to reach her, Andúril swinging high over his head.

Even as Bellatrix placed a finger to her Dark Mark, the sword of kings flashed, severing flesh and bone and sending the woman reeling back, her cackle of sick delight erased by a scream of pain. The loss of her left forearm aside, the damage was already done. A shout of pain was heard throughout the Death Eater ranks. Voldemort was aware.

There was little time left, they had to end this place of the Dark Lord's power before the man himself arrived. In a flash the Horn of Gondor was in his hand, its powerful notes blaring over the din of battle. With a roar, the great windows on the front of the Manor smashed inward, and Neville charged in, alongside several of the Beornings, both those skin changed and others in their massive humanoid forms, wading through the orcs and destroying everything that stood in their way.

Looking around wildly for a sign of his father, Draco caught sight of him dragging Bellatrix away. As the enraged and quite mad witch thrashed in the man's arms, Lucius sent one look back at his son, before apparating away to some fallback base that they were as of yet unaware of.

Still, with the leaders of Voldemort's forces as well as the Lord of the Manor fled, victory was more than assured. It was now simply a race against time to eliminate the remaining orcs and Death Eaters, salvage what they could from the Manor that could lead them to the next base or Horcrux, and withdraw before Voldemort arrived.

That was where Draco's intimate knowledge of the floor plan came to bear. While Neville, the Beornings, the six stoic elves, and the warriors of Rohan swept through the lower floors of the Manor and the grounds outside to clear it of every resource and enemy that they could, Draco led Faykan, Harry, Ron, and Hermione up to his father's study, where he presumed that the man's most private documents would be stored, and hopefully something that would assist them may be found.

They encountered little resistance on the second floor, and what foe did try to stop them was quickly put down through the combined magical prowess of Faykan and Harry, the two working in perfect tandem as they rounded corners and charged down the corridors.

As they arrived outside Lucius' private study, Draco could feel the man's personal wards outside the door; prevent all entrance aside from Lucius himself. Pointing Andúril at the door, Draco felt the spirit of Eldarion surge through him, and a blast of magical energy launched from the enchanted blade.

The wards buckled, submitting to the ancient magic of the king's sword in the hands of a Malfoy by blood, and they quickly ducked inside. Draco had never before seen the inside of his father's office, and it was somewhat of a surprise what they found.

The wide hardwood desk was not neat and orderly like Draco would have thought, but cluttered with trinkets and wizarding photos of Narcissa and Draco, and dominating the wall space behind the large wing back chair was the massive portrait of the family that was created just before Draco left for Hogwarts.

"Hard to image Lucius booting you out of the family if he cared this much…" Hermione commented as she started searching through a large stack of parchment.

"Yeah…" Draco acknowledged. This line of thought was troubling him most of all. If he had been blotted out of the family like he had said, there ought to have been a massive amount of resistance to his commanding the wards. At first Draco had thought that Andúril had given him some sort of edge, but now… now he wasn't so sure. Off to his left, searching the shelves of trinkets for anything of note, Faykan turned and sent a knowing smile at Draco, which reaffirmed without words what the Istari had been saying for over two years.

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Harry wasn't sure what they hoped to find in Lucius' office, but it was the best shot that they had for some lead to the next Horcrux. Scanning the shelves with his magical senses he came across many dark objects, some so dangerous that it was obvious why they were stored here and not where a younger Draco could have gotten a hold of them.

The one curious thing was an empty space in a row of books, where there was a distinctly lighter amount of dust buildup, and a lingering taint that was altogether too familiar to Harry. It must have been where the diary Horcrux had rested for many years before Lucius placed it at Hogwarts.

"I think I've found something," Ron declared, holding up a sheaf of parchment, "it's not much, but there's a mention here of the Dark Lord and the diary…"

Faykan strode over swiftly, reading over Ron's shoulder as Harry and the others approached. A lot of the text was useless ramblings, obvious just some notes that Lucius was making for himself, but one paragraph struck Harry as very important.

"…Bellatrix wouldn't stop complaining that the Dark Lord is our primary objective. Relocating him and continuing his work. That all well and good for her, she doesn't care about her husband and has no children to protect. Many of the others listen to her, just because the Dark Lord entrusted her with a priceless object, same as the diary, but that might be one of her jealous exaggerations… still unsure what the diary does, but kept it all the same…"

"So Bellatrix was entrusted an object by Voldemort too…" Draco said slowly.

"But where could she have hidden it?" Hermione asked, glancing over the parchment again for clues.

"Could be any one of a hundred different places," Faykan replied, "There has to be a way for us to narrow down our search, as who knows if we'll have the opportunity to strike at every possibility."

Harry agreed with Faykan's thought, but even as they stood there a pain shot through his scar, "He's coming, we've run out of time," he said quickly, placing a hand on the lightning bolt mark to crush the pain back.

"Is there anything you want to take before we leave here Draco?" Faykan said, turning to the blonde.

The boy in question took a long look around the office, before shaking his head, "No, I think we've intruded on my father's private sanctuary long enough."

Faykan nodded, "Alright, then we'll make a quick sweep of the manor and withdraw back to Orthanc."

They only made it back to the main stairs just as Harry's scar flared with pain again. Voldemort was on the move, and time was running out. Splitting up to cover more ground, Harry ran down the stairs with Faykan and Draco to check the bottom-most floors, where artifacts and prisoners would be likely stored.

The cries of battle from outside were already starting to calm, as Harry could only assume that the battle was indeed won as they turned down a secreted staircase to the manor's underground section.

"Father never guessed that I'd figured out how to access this part of the Manor," Draco said casually, clearly remembering some fond memories of his youth, even though remorse clearly showed on his face. Harry put a hand on his shoulder to reassure his friend, and together the three of them ventured into the darkness, swords and staffs aloft in case of unexpected company.

Only a sparingly handful of guards were present, orcs that were on high alert from the battle above, but they proved little challenge for either Istari or the heir of Gondor. Even as the last one fell dead, Draco already had snatched the silver and brass keys from the gruesome creature's belt, and hurried to check each and every door along the narrow hallway.

As door after door were opened, Harry's heart sank as he saw the condition of Voldemort's prisoners. Magical and muggle alike, they were beaten, tortured and clearly abused in many different fashions. He and Faykan ushered them out into the waiting arms of the Rohirrim warriors on the main floor, but Harry wasn't sure if they'd have time to save them all.

Voldemort was flying, literally, as fast as he could across Europe to reach where he could apparate the rest of the way to them, and he was drawing ever nearer. Thankfully, they were making good progress, and the cells were over half empty anyway, which made the going much quicker.

The last cell, all the way at the end, had one man in it, who Faykan grabbed and hurried with as the man stumbled to keep up, and they all turned and sprinted for the exit. Bursting out under the blanket of stars, Harry and Faykan quickly threw up their staffs, tearing open the fabric of space to create the doorway back to Orthanc, just as Voldemort apparated to the far side of the Manor.

Staggering from the pain in his scar, Harry diligently kept the portal open, even as he heard the Dark Lord raging at the loss of his primary base. "Go, quickly!" Faykan shouted to the assembled prisoners and warriors. The assembled people poured through the portal, even as Harry and Faykan turned to see the Dark Lord, bloodied and furious, stalking across the wide lawns toward them.

"Potter!" he screamed, wand aloft, and Harry dived as the green jet of light flew over him.

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"Potter!" Voldemort cried in anger, throwing a Killing Curse at the boy, who dodged. The Dark Lord of the earth was beyond enraged at what had happened. The distraction of this attack had throw off his entire French offensive, allowing the resistors time to flee and deal massive damage to his forces, as well as injuring Lord Voldemort himself.

This was unacceptable, and he would punish all those who caused such an embarrassment, starting here with the boy and his friends. Even as Potter's forces fled through their makeshift portal, Voldemort could see into their hideaway, and he knew a fair amount about the geography of that landscape, which would be invaluable for the counterattack he was already planning to launch. But the boy would die here and now.

Three more spells exploded from his wand, causing Potter to duck and weave through them, his own weapon being used to power their getaway. Fool of a boy, to come unarmed before the most powerful Dark Lord that ever walked the earth, much like his father had. Brave, to be sure, but little sense.

Even as he raised his wand again, however, the other Istari flew at him like a madman, attacking the Dark Lord with his staff and a sword. Such mundane weapons were beneath him, and with a blast of power he threw the Istari back, causing the ring of power to burn with an inner fury. He ought to crush this puny wizard and be rid of him.

The Dark Lord remembered, oh yes, the boy's face was clear to him now. Faykan Undol, after all these years, and there was no mistaking those features as they pulled into a concentrated frown. It was the same boy, almost fifty years ago, that had thwarted him at every turn in Hogwarts, that had spurned his offers of allegiance, and had inevitable been defeated by him, three times now it seemed.

"Why won't you just die!" he roared at the Istari, summoning a blast of fiendfyre, which formed into the shape of a massive draconic serpent, much as his newly empowered animagus form, and dove at the boy wizard, mouth agape to devour him whole.

The sword in the Istari's hand flashed a shining blue, and he struck at the cursed fire, slaying it as a normal beast, before returning the flames in a torrential fireball, which the Dark Lord snuffed out with ease.

A savage roar turned him however, and he dodged at the last moment as a large furry body leapt past him. A black panther gracefully hit the ground, pivoted, and leapt again, giving Voldemort a good look at the vivid green eyes and dirty scar that was indeed Potter's.

So, the boy had mastered the transformation as well had he? It was a great pity that fate had ordained them to be enemies, as the Dark Lord appreciated servants with unique talents, and Mr. Potter was proving himself every bit the challenge that the rival of the Dark Lord ought to be.

Alas, it was not to be, as the boy was destined to be his downfall, and the Lord Voldemort could have no equal, so Potter, Undol, and all others who challenged him would die. The ring on his finger burned with the beat of his own heart, and the Death Curse leapt from his lips. The bolt of deadly energy was dead on course, but the blasted boy saw it and dodged.

Snarling in anger, the panther leapt again, claws and teeth flashing in the moonlight. The Dark Lord apparated out of the way, teleporting closer to their blasted portal and cutting off their potential escape. Both wizards saw this as a threat to their precious followers, and redoubled their efforts to drive him away, but the Dark Lord was immovable.

Laughing as he batted away every attack they threw at him, Voldemort edged closer to the open portal. If he could make it inside, the Fidelius Charm on their hiding place would be broken at last, and they would have nowhere to run.

Potter shifted back to his human form, magical energy crackling around him as he advanced, wandless, to face Voldemort. At that same moment, a sharp crack from behind the Dark Lord distracted him, and he turned to find Alatar on the far side of the portal, eyes blazing with white radiance as he level his staff on the Dark Lord.

The shockwave that flew through the portal was so great that even the Lord Voldemort forced himself, grudgingly, to abandon his position of strength and dodge, angrily throwing himself aside like some worthless muggle. For the indignity they would suffer greatly.

However, even as the Dark Lord recovered from Alatar's surprise attack, Potter followed it up with a mighty crack of lightning from his hands. Eyes wide in astonishment, the Lord Voldemort dodged the bolts of electricity. How could the boy have mastered wandless magic so young, when even he himself had not done this?

Before he could return to the offensive, Potter snatched up his staff, sprinting through the portal as the tear healed itself. Voldemort roared with rage, his spells blasting the spot where the portal had stood. How dare the boy escape again!

The anger burned with a white hot intensity, but the Dark Lord of the earth controlled himself. There would be time now for his vengeance, pure and undiluted as he visited their pathetic Germanic base. He would raze the country to the ground in searching for them. There would be no respite for the forces that rallied against him.

With an earth-shattering explosion the Dark Lord apparated to his followers next fallback location, to rally his warriors to their newest target, and marshal them against the forces of the Light.

Potter would live long enough to see everything he cared about destroyed, only then would he die as well. His continued insult of life would ensure this fate.

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Bellatrix thrashed and wailed in agony upon the bedding in Hogwart's dungeons. The flesh and bone that was severed by Draco's thrice cursed sword seared with fire as the slightest movement. And because of whatever enchantments on the blade, Severus regrettably had to inform her that the limb would never be replaceable.

The woman had not taken that information well, but flew into a greater rage than before. Which was why he had secluded her here, and not in the infirmary where she would frighten the students and Madam Pomfrey with her tantrums.

Secretly, he felt that the wretched woman had gotten just what she deserved for being so blindly devoted to a madman. However, he was tasked with making sure that the Dark Lord's favored servant survived to fight another day, and he had little choice in the matter.

At least it wasn't a total loss, in her madden rage through the first few hours, the woman had ranted long about the invincibility of the Dark Lord, clearly in response to something that had been said during the battle at Malfoy Manor. She kept mentioning Gringotts, and something of great value, which Severus immediately took mental record of to transmit to Faykan and the others at his earliest opportunity.

Meanwhile, Nott was becoming extremely irksome, pestering Severus about his plans for the Dark Lord's school and the increased Death Eater activity since the fall of their primary base. Soon they would move on to another location, but for the time being they had to rest up at Hogwarts, as per the Dark Lord's orders.

He had spurned the boy's pestering, which earned no amount of respect from the brat, but at the same time Severus had noticed more and more often the bizarre crown that Nott seemed to always wear these days. It was clearly marked with the crest of Ravenclaw, which made little sense for the Slytherin to be wearing, but he didn't allow anyone to touch it aside from himself, and became violent quickly if asked about it.

Something just didn't add up about these things, but Severus lacked clear information about any of it, and for good reason. In the slightest chance that the Dark Lord probed his mind when he wasn't ready, and learned all that Severus could possibly know, he was as good as dead. All he could do to be helpful at this time was to deliver what he could safely to the rest of the resistance, and hope that it was of use to them.

It was extremely frustrating, but still necessary to the eventual victory of the Light over the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, with all the annoyances caused by the Carrow twins and their constant infighting with the D.A., it was hard to find the time to retreat up to the Headmaster's office and send out the message. Even without Neville, who the entire school knew had escaped before he could be punished, the rest of the resistance group had continued to fight on, bolstered by the fact that their leader was out fighting with Harry's faction in the wider world.

They all thought it was the best thing that could have happened, and the ever swelling members of the D.A. were trying their hardest to emulate Mr. Longbottom so that they could go out and fight with Harry. By the time Severus finally made it back to his office, he had already had to stop nearly five different pranks of various degrees of violence, all set for the Carrows and those Slytherin's that supported them.

Sighing in frustration, Severus turned to Phineas Nigellus Black, the former Headmaster of Hogwarts that was most willing to assist him. "I need you to take a very important message to Potter and his friends."

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Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when Harry charged through the collapsing portal, sealing Voldemort on the other side, and well away from them. They had managed to rescue many prisoners, and while the Muggles had had their memories wiped and were returned safe and sound to Britain, the wizards had to remain at Orthanc for their own safety.

Most notable among these was the wand maker, Ollivander. The man had to be one of the longest in that dungeon, as he was feeble and weak from lack of proper nutrition and sleep. Hermione had personally taken charge of Mr. Ollivander's welfare, secluding him in a private room and assigning Dobby to deliver regular meals.

She was just checking up on the man, to see that he had settled into his room when Faykan and Harry entered. "Mr. Ollivander, We're sorry to disturb you…" Harry began, but the old man maker waved off his concern.

"My dear boy," he said feebly, "You rescued us from that horrid dungeon. I thought I would die in that place. I can never thank you… never thank you… enough for reigniting hope in this old man…"

"We were glad to do it." Faykan responded. Ollivander glanced at him, and then did a double take. "Faykan Undol, but how? They said you'd died at the hand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…"

"Rumors are greatly exaggerated when it comes to me and my welfare," Faykan said dismissively, "More importantly, we could use your expertise Mr. Ollivander…"

"What help can I be?" the man replied, settling back against the pillows that Hermione had just fluffed for the man.

"We have many wizards who are willing to fight the Dark Lord," Harry explained slowly, "but because of circumstances, or in some cases their recent release from dungeons, they are lacking wands…"

"If you provide me the materials and tools that I require, I would be more than glad to create wands for your warriors. That was the same reason that You-Know-Who captured me, but I refused to help him. You saw what his response to my refusal was…"

"We understand," Faykan said, "You rest for the time being, and when you're more than ready, we'll have all the supplies you need brought to you. Until then, when you have a wand that's attuned to you, will this suffice for the time being?"

Faykan walked forward, pulling a wand from his cloak, and Hermione recognized Dumbledore's wand, also known as the Elder Wand. Mr. Ollivander gingerly took the wand, examining it and mumbling its measurements to himself. When he examined the base of the wand to determine its core, his eyes shot up in shock, "It can't be!" he stated, looking between Faykan and the wand, "but that symbol, it must be!"

"It only ever was a wand, Mr. Ollivander." Faykan explained gently, "Its power lies only with those who fight for the Light. In evil hands it will cause nothing but misery for all those in contact with it, hence why Dark Lord after Dark Lord failed once they took possession of it."

"With this wand though…" Mr. Ollivander said, his eyes shining with possibility, "Your warriors will have the most powerfully crafted wands in history."

"I know you'll do your very best work, loaning this wand to you just ensures that you will be able despite your injuries. Healing is your first priority; however, and I don't wish for you to push to make wands when you are still unwell."

With that the two turned to leave. "My lad," Ollivander said, calling them back, "Why do I have the express suspicion that we've met before?" he asked Faykan, his eyes clouded with confusion.

"Of course we did Garrick," Faykan replied, smirking, "Who do you think taught you the art of wand making that you've perfected so magnificently? It's only fair that your old master is the one to get you back on your feet after this terrible point of your career…"

"Alatar…" Ollivander whispered in muted realization, even as Harry and the Istari turned and left.

Hermione could only smile to herself. Faykan had such a way with people that they came into contact with. For the ancient Istari to have met with, and worked so closely with Mr. Ollivander so long before even meeting with them. It was sometimes too much for her to comprehend.

"If there's anything else you need, you may call for either myself or Dobby, and we'll make certain that you get it, Mr. Ollivander," she said quietly, but the man was too lost in his recollections, and merely nodded as Hermione excused herself. As she turned to close the door, the man was still intently studying the Elder Wand, a smile plastered on his thin features.

When she returned to her own room, she was surprised to find Phineas Nigellus Black waiting for her, his stern and condescending demeanor sneering across the room. "Miss Granger," he said coldly, "Headmaster Snape has important information to relate to Mr. Potter and your other friends."

Hermione paused in confusion for a moment, before the waspish man snapper her out of her thoughts, pointedly requesting her to collect the others. She did one better, summoning the man's portrait and bringing it down to the main hall, despite the man's protests and indignities about being moved without permission.

When they had all gathered in the main hall, Hermione set Phineas Nigellus down where he could see them all, so he could related Professor Snape's message.

"Other Death Eaters have come to the castle, gravely injured and the Headmaster had personally taken to tending to their wounds," Phineas started. Hermione spotted Harry and Faykan sharing a glance at that. "In process of tending to their wounds, the Headmaster made several discoveries that he felt could assist in leading to the defeat of the Dark Lord, and has requested that I bring you said information."

"We thank you for your contribution to the effort Phineas, may we hear the message?" Faykan prompted.

The portrait nodded smugly, "The first is that Bellatrix LeStrange made mention of a powerful artifact of the Dark Lord's in her Gringotts vault, in connection to the Dark Lord's supposed immortality."

"Yes!" Harry said, shooting to his feet, "The next Horcrux!"

Calming their friend, Faykan persisted, "What else Phineas?"

The ancient headmaster continued, "The second is that one Theodore Nott has been given to wearing a crown with the Ravenclaw emblem upon it, whether this has some connection that will help you, the Headmaster was not sure. That is all…"

And without another word, Phineas Nigellus just stood and strode out of his portrait.

"Well," Faykan said after the man left, "I guess our path ahead has finally been made clear. Gringotts must be retaken, and afterwards, Hogwarts."

"It's time to go fully on the offensive," Harry added, which made Ron grin the most out of all of them.

Potential Spoilers Ahead, You Have Been Warned!

And thus the fist major offensive of the light has been made. a strong blow against Voldemort's holdings in Britain, and the injury of his most loyal servant. By and large the only change was the inclusion of the Elves, and their description, which has been covered in the previous chapter's ending note. until next time! ~F