R&R and enjoy! ~F

Chapter Fourteen

Silence before the Storm

Voldemort sensed the attack on his school long before loyal Bellatrix appeared to warn him of it. The question however, was why the fools of the Light thought that a victory at his personal stronghold was to their advantage. There was truly only one great thing of worth in the school, and it was in the possession of another trusted...

However, perhaps that secret wasn't as safe as he had at first suspected. Dumbledore was craftier than the Dark Lord gave the man credit for at times, so why wouldn't it be that the man found out Lord Voldemort's secret of immortality...

He had to make absolutely sure before committing an all out attack, but to be safe he ordered Bellatrix to muster his forces, and have them all at the gates of Hogwarts as soon as remotely possible.

Meanwhile, he spent his time apparating across the country, growing steadily more angry and worried as time went on. The cave, the vault, the hovel, and Godric's Hollow were all showing signs of recent presences, most horribly those of the Light. Driven by maddening horror, the Dark Lord realized that he was close to vulnerable, and he must reach Hogwarts with his army before the boy could find his last treasure. The Nott boy was powerful, and hopefully he had the sense to escape before the attack occurred.

Flooding the country with his dark power, the Lord of the Earth sent out the call for all his forces to converge on the school, over and above what he felt would be needed to crush this petty resistance. His personal feelings for the building aside, he would level the famous school before allowing his final Horcrux to be harmed by the damnable Light.

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Harry sprinted up the stairs with Faykan hot on his heels. The map showed them that Nott was up on the fifth floor, leading a group of Death Eaters from the various classrooms back down. Hoping that the other boy still had the final Horcrux on him, they crashed through the door to the fifth floor, cutting off their primary route down.

"This is my fight," Nott said hastily to the others, who for some reason shrank back as the boy spoke, as though he was of a higher ranking in Voldemort's system than they. "Go back and take the secret passage down one floor, then go past the Great Hall staircase..."

As the other Death Eaters fled, Nott turned to face the pair of Istari dead on. Harry saw the tiny, tarnished crown sparkling in the torchlight, and knew instinctively that this soul container of Voldemort's was active, and would fight back against them through Nott.

There were no words between them, as it was obvious that Nott was well beyond all reason, and the first volley of spells met each other head on in the center of the corridor, causing a deafening bang to echo throughout the castle.

Harry and Faykan dodged to either side, staffs twirling as they cast powerful elven magic of protection and attack, seeking with all their might to break through the dark enchantments that Nott wove around himself. The boy was far stronger than Harry had guessed, but it had to be due to the Horcrux upon his head.

Faykan drew Glamdring, and under covering fire from Harry, charged at Nott, his weapons ready to deliver fatal blows to the head and abdomen.

Surprising them both, Nott turned, summoning a suit of armor to cash into Faykan, forcing the older Istari to dodge back and break off his charge, even as Nott returned to the offensive, almost hissing as he launched terrible curses from his wand, each one as lethal and cruel as any that Voldemort or Bellatrix could cast.

This wasn't something they could allow. Whether the boy was possessed or not they needed the Horcrux, and removing such a dangerous threat from the school was only the barest of seconds to that goal. Even as Faykan was forced back, Hadhafang was unsheathed and Harry sped towards the crazed Slytherin. Shrapnel of stone and metal blasted at him as Nott detonated another statue, but Harry ignored the minor cuts and gashes that were caused by it. Staff ahead of him, he released a blinding flash of light seconds before running right over Nott.

The boy shrieked, but rolled out of the way to avoid the elven blade. Thick darkness erupted from Nott's wand, battling the light that poured from Harry's staff, but the Istari-in-training was not to be outdone. Calling upon the Valar to guide him, he unleashed the power that he had seen Faykan used, and had feared beforehand. Through the powerful bond of the Maiar, he was able to link with the other four of the Istari, combining their magic in part to one of their bodies, creating a being that was greater and more terrible than any mortal creature in all of Arda.

Light poured from his eyes, but this time he was not blinded. If anything, Harry felt his sight magnify leaps and bounds beyond what he thought possible. Magic tingled in his every move, and the staff and sword in his hands grew freezing cold in his grip. The Flame of Anor burned in his being, and on the opposite side of Nott, he could see Faykan, blue eyes lost in the translucent white of Valinor. It was a near forbidden power, and would leave them weakened when it was finished, but to put down Nott and the final Horcrux once and for all, it was necessary.

Nott must have expected them to do this, as at the same moment that they raised their staffs to blast him with overwhelming power, he stared to hiss in the Black Speech of Mordor, raising a shield of thick dark power over him. Both beams of pure white magic struck just as the shield rose, enveloping Nott in magic, making the castle shudder around them.

Harry didn't think there was much outside of Voldemort himself that could withstand a direct blast of Istari magic, let alone two, yet when their spells were spent, and they returned to their normal states, Nott rose, the ground around him smoking from the blasts of magic.

"My Lord has warned me of your tricks…" Nott taunted briefly, "You will find me not so easy to defeat."

Harry gritted his teeth, despite their vast magical prowess; it had taken quite a bit out of them for that one powerful co-attack, and while they still held the clear upper hand, it was daunting that Nott had survived so easily. If he could, how difficult was the final battle with Voldemort to be?

The duel recommenced in earnest, spells flying from both staff and wand in swarms. Who thought that in two short years that Nott could grow so powerful? It had to be the influence of the Horcrux. But getting close enough to remove it seemed beyond the question.

That was until Harry spotted Professor Snape charge into the mix.

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Severus knew immediately upon the second blast rumbling his school that Harry and Faykan needed help. He would trust no one else but himself to do this, as the risk of leaping into the battle that already included the two powerful wizards on earth seemed little more than suicide.

Nevertheless, he sprinted up the stairs, turning the corner and being forced to dodge a spell instantly that had leapt from Harry's staff. Nott was effectively holding off the attack of both Istari, while flanked by them. If not for the dire circumstances related to the need of the battle, Severus would almost have been impressed. However, he charged toward the fight, blocking and deflecting what spells came at him from the chaos ahead.

As he dashed past Faykan, the boy shouted at him. Severus spared him a single glance, and was glad that he did. "Sev!" the boy cried, throwing a long silver blade to him. Severus had never participated in Quidditch, and wasn't fond of flying altogether, but his reflexes from years as a Death Eater and protecting mindless dunderheads from potion accidents served just as well to snatch the sword's hilt as the blade tumbled through the air toward him.

As he whirled on Nott, the boy launched a dark curse, slicing heavily into Severus' wand arm. But the action left the boy wide open. Swinging heavily, Severus' attack crashed down on the circlet of silver upon the boy's head, cracking the gems and splitting the silver eagle mounted at its peak.

Nott screamed, despite not actually being physically struck with the sword. Severus had lifted a blade or two in his days and knew how to prevent injury when he wanted. But it didn't make a difference here. Nott collapsed, magical energy starting to leak from his eyes, ears, and nose as the boy started to thrash on the ground.

Harry started forward, probably to try and help, but Severus threw up an arm. "There's nothing that can be done…" he said neutrally, watching pitifully as the boy's life force simply leaked out of him.

"But…" Harry said, desperate to save any being, even this boy turned monster in front of them from suffering.

"Sev is right Harry," Faykan said, expressing the same guarded neutrality as Severus, a Slytherin skill. "From being possessed for so long by the Horcrux, Nott's life force was tied to the item, he depended on it, and now it's trying to leech energy from him to survive, but… well, so you see…"

Severus nodded grimly, knowing what was currently running through the Istari's mind. If this was how Nott died from the destruction of an object Horcrux, how were they to preserve Harry and destroy the Horcrux within him?

Before Severus could even catch Faykan's eye again, as this was an issue that greatly had to be discussed between them all, Harry and the Istari were off like shots, sprinting back down to the grounds to open the portals and admit the armies of Light to fortify the castle against the Dark Lord's forces.

The Potions Master turned Headmaster could see the problem a mile away. Faykan was clearly running away from the very idea that he might lose Harry, unwilling to even speak of it to another person.

Severus wanted to say that he didn't understand the madness of the ancient Istari turned teenager in regards to this, but he knew what it was like all too well. There was nothing that Severus wouldn't have done at the time to put aside the facts that the Dark Lord wanted to destroy his dear Lily Evans and her son. It was a dark place, one that threatened his own sanity, and Severus was certain that Faykan, with his added centuries of experience, could only have the feeling compounded over several lifetimes of walking the earth.

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Hermione raced through the corridors along with Ron and Draco, struggling to keep Harry or Faykan in view as they sprinted down to the grounds. How the pair ran so quickly, Hermione thought she may never figure out.

By the time they raced out onto the darkened grass lawns, Faykan and Harry were already weaving their magic in large wide arcs over the grounds. Rift after rift sprung into existence all over, widening until they began disgorging warriors of varying shapes and races.

Legions of dwarves spilled forth from one of the largest rifts, while Cavalry of Rohan and many more goblin warriors flooded the grounds. Towering over them all were the Beornings, axes sharpened to a frightening gleam as they anticipated the battle ahead.

All creatures had their orders prearranged, and the moment they exited the portals they scattered, dwarves and Rohirrim making their way to the castle to join with the teachers and oldest students, while goblins flocked to the grounds in pockets, drawing tools and spades to entrench positions stretching from the front courtyards of the castle all the way to the gates to Hogsmeade.

This long stretch was where the heaviest fighting was sure to take place, and they needed every available moment to make it that much harder for Voldemort's forces to advance toward the castle. Meanwhile the dwarves would be creating their own little surprises from within the castle. A great many barrels of strange powders were being carted in; along with other near modern explosives that Hermione felt that in any other hands would be far more a liability than an asset.

Amid it all, Harry and Faykan were watching in serious contemplation as Hermione, Ron and Draco reached them. Looking around at the assembling forces, Ron swallowed loudly, "Not many to work with this lot…" he commented.

"More will come," Harry replied, sparing the red head a glance before returning his attention to Faykan, who was steadily gazing upward. Above them all, a swirl of darkened shapes was spiraling in a wide circle over the grounds. Crebain, the messengers of Fanghorn and Orthanc, the same birds that had assisted them all for years on end, were drawing together from their long use as spies, but for war or scouting Hermione was unsure.

The six elves returned, their grey clothing making them nearly invisible in the gloom, and spoke quickly with Faykan and Harry in the rapid tongue of the high elves, which Hermione could only understand fragments of. Something about a messenger escaping, but both powerful wizards seemed to have expected this new and nodded.

"The board is set…" Faykan mumbled to himself, while the others watched in confusion, "… and the pieces are moving…"

"Here the hammer stroke will fall hardest," Harry commented, gazing out toward Hogsmeade, "We cannot expect the villagers to survive this battle if they remain in their homes. They must be warned."

"They will be…" Faykan replied, and couldn't help but feel slightly put out that she and the other two boys were being all but ignored amid the two powerful wizards' dialogue.

"Mere hours remain before our enemy is ready," Faykan said after a moment, and the cryptic solemnity quickly grated on Hermione's nerves.

"Well, what do we plan to do about this?" she piped up, and Faykan turned as if noticing her for the first time.

He smiled softly, before raising his staff. "We send a clear message," was all he replied before a burst of light shot straight into the air from his staff. Once it reached an altitude higher than even the Astronomy tower the light exploded outward like a firework, revealing the lightning bolt shaped design of Dumbledore's Army's banner, floating proud and strong over the castle that was indeed their home now.

"Seems a perfectly good declaration of war, if I say so myself," Faykan said after a few moments of gazing up at the magical banner, smirking to himself as he did so. "We ought to go organize the teachers and students, set up channels to evacuate those far too young to fight, and post those with the best spell casting abilities in key points around the school."

They turned back to the castle once more, but Hermione lingered a few moments longer, watching the magical lightning bolt on its quadrangle of colors, shimmering boldly in the darkening sky. It seemed so long ago that they had created that symbol, and she had never expected to truly need to use it in such a manner. It was frightening to know that the greatest battle of the war was drawing nearer to them, and they were planning to fight it head on, and stop the madness from spreading to the rest of their world.

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Bellatrix grimaced as she felt her mark continuing to burn, as it had done for almost the entire night since she arrived at her Lord's side. The Dark Lord had called for his entire armies to congregate on the outskirts of Hogwarts, ready to meet the challenge set by Potter and his pitiful little band over the school, and wipe them out once and for all.

But even still, something about her Lord's manner made Bellatrix uneasy. Where once the man would rage and torture his own on occasion, for insurmountable stupidity or failure, now he was dishing out extreme vengeance against even the slightest infraction to his will. While the hammer of his wrath had never as of yet fallen upon Bella, it was still disconcerting to think that even her lofty position might not be sufficient to spare her from such treatment.

She, Lucius, and Abdurahman, as the most trusted of the Dark Lord's followers were given the task of signaling the various forces spread throughout magical Europe to convene on the school, and their various travel methods they ought to arrive within two days worth. She was not pleased with the delay, as that would only give Potter's forces more time to entrench themselves in the school, and make the oncoming battle all the more irritating for them.

Not that Bellatrix cared for the casualties that would no doubt rank up rather quickly on both sides; the fact that their numbers easily dwarfed the Light's made up for far more than that. It was more worry for the state that her Lord would be left in when they arrived, and discovered whatever Potter and his Istari friend had done at the prestigious school.

Idly, Bellatrix had wondered what had become of Nott and Snape, probably captured or some pathetic Light mercy, waiting for the battle to be over so that they could be hypothetically held for their 'crimes' or some other rubbish. Like they really thought that they could win against the swarms that the Dark Lord commanded. It was a joke to fight against them, one that Bellatrix would share in the last laugh over, when Potter and his friends were dead at their feet, and the armies of Darkness spread to carry the Dark Lord's power throughout the world.

The last stop that Bellatrix had to make, before returning to the Dark Lord's staging ground, so that they could begin the march to Hogwarts, was the boarders of the Middle East, further east and south by far than anywhere she had been before. The fact that her Lord's reach was so long was impressive, even if Madam Zabini wasn't in Bellatrix's good graces. It didn't make good for a wife to have so many dead husbands, but the woman had garnered a great deal of power and influence through the marriages and subsequent deaths, so she wouldn't scoff at the other woman to her face.

When Bellatrix arrived at the spacious Zabini manor house, she was surprised to find both of the Zabini family members present. Ought the son to be back at Hogwarts right now? Disregarding the boy, Bellatrix strode up to the haughty looking mother.

"What do you want now Bellatrix, or rather what is the Dark Lord's wishes?" the woman said, looking down her nose at Bella as thought she was nothing more than an insect. It burned the mad witche's blood to be spoken to with such contempt, but she held back the venom that threatened to spill forth, ally or not the Zabini matriarch was no friend of the Blacks.

"The time has come," Bella said hastily, "the Dark Lord calls the Haradrim to renew their ancient oaths, and fight for the name of the Lord of the Earth…"

Madam Zabini stared at Bellatrix for a long moment and whether she was considering the message or not, Bella could not tell. "Does he now…" she said softly, standing and turning to exchange a glance with her son. The boy nodded once, and walked out of the room obediently. "We will obey his commands," Zabini continued, "although I wonder if you know the true meaning of the words you just spoke Bellatrix…"

"Of course I do!" Bellatrix demanded, her rage on the surface. How dare this woman infer that she was ignorant of the Dark Lord and his power, or his station in the world; his will was absolute, and there was none other that had the power or influence that he had.

"Of course, naturally…" Zabini replied coolly, her eyes cold and hard, but betraying nothing of what was thought behind them. "We will be ready for when we are needed. You can return to your master at you leisure…"

Bellatrix growled at being dismissed so offhandedly, but she had important business to attend to anyway, and she stormed from the manor with all haste, despite wanting to wipe the small smirk from the Zabini boy's face as she passed him in the corridor before the main doors. Let the fools think themselves better than she. In the end, she was the most faithful of the Dark Lord's warriors, and she would be rewarded beyond all of them for her time and service.

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Hogwarts quickly became a madhouse of activity.

Draco was scrambling against the tide of students as the Heads of House guided them to the Great Hall, where Faykan and Harry had opened portals to take them safely to Orthanc and well away from the upcoming battle. All students under seventeen were to be sent back, although many of the fifth and sixth years were protesting loudly, Ginny leading their rebellion against the determination.

But it was for the best, and Draco immensely agreed that Ginny and several of the others ought to be protected, but he knew that stating his opinion about her protection wasn't wise, especially when she and Mrs. Weasley started to row about it in the middle of an upper corridor. Ginny was hell bent on standing with him, and truthfully there were few that Draco would honestly trust to watch his back, his need to see her safe notwithstanding. Therefore he wisely chose to avoid the argument altogether, lest he enrage either side.

At the same time, Order of the Phoenix members were Flooing in from all over, and also many adult British wizards and witches, who nodded respectfully when they encountered Draco. He recognized a few vaguely, mainly as faces from crowds that he and Harry had spoken in front of, both this or last year.

It was somewhat inspiring to know that they're words had had some effect on the wizarding populace, and that many were at last choosing to take up wands against Voldemort and his dark hordes. He wasn't sure what sort of experience any of them had in comparison to even the D.A, but every wand for them was appreciated.

Many were nervous about the oncoming army of dark creatures and Death Eaters, and Draco couldn't blame them for that fear. It was a naturally reaction to intense evil and danger. Draco wasn't sure there was much he could do, but he felt impressed to say something to bolster the people's courage in the face of battle.

"Citizens of wizarding Britain, friends and allies of the free peoples of the West, Hear me!" Draco said, pausing as the assembled people in the Great Hall turned to him, "I see in your eyes the great fear and worry over the oncoming storm. I will not say that it does not affect me as well. Days may yet come that herald an ending of the magical world, or an oppressing Dark Lord that will indeed eclipse all light that we hold dear, but I say it is not to be this day, for this day we will fight!"

The crowd seemed to steel their resolve, but there was still a great layer of tension in the air, that Draco didn't like. "By all those you hold dear on this good earth, I therefore bid you to stand, free peoples of the West!" he cried, drawing forth Andúril and raising it to the ceiling.

Bright flames leapt from the blade, accompanied by a powerful shout of courage from the soon-to-be defenders of the school. With that they all started anew at their various tasks, each with bolstered vigor to their motions. Hopefully the fires of hope had been started and would warm them against the wintry chill that came with Voldemort's forces of fear.

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Harry stood atop the highest battlements, overlooking the hasty construction of ditches and trenches throughout the grounds by the goblin laborers with Faykan at his side. Far above, the shimmering symbol of their cause, Dumbledore's Army, shone proudly over the darkening terrain.

"It ought to take at least a day for Voldemort to gather forces sufficient to assault us openly, but I wouldn't be surprised if he launches preemptive strikes to try and prevent us from full utilizing our defenses against him." Faykan said to the open air, more speaking hypothetically then by fact.

"With Hogwarts, and us, as his potential prize, it is difficult to say what the madman might choose to do," Harry countered, drawing on knowledge both personal and otherworldly. When faced with great desire and adversity, Dark Lords and other would-be dictators often did very selfish and fool hearty things in their bids for power.

"This is true," Faykan acknowledged with a nod. "He may yet wait until his full strength is gathered, and choose to fall upon us like a hammer upon an anvil."

"What more can we do that we have not done already?" Harry asked, longing to hear of some other options that they had forgotten, or set aside in their race to usher in this final confrontation.

Faykan shifted slightly, which was an odd movement for the normally sure and confidant Istari. It was therefore noticed immediately by Harry, and raised much suspicion. "What are you hiding from me this time Fay?" he probed, becoming greatly saddened by the guilt that flashed across his friend's face and aura. He had promised after all…

Sagging slightly Faykan turned to watch the sky over Hogsmeade, and softly started to speak, "I know I made an oath to never withhold crucial information from you again, Kentano, but the wishes of a dying man, along with my own selfishness to see his words die with him prevented me from making important mention of a dire fact…"

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked, to which Faykan nodded.

"He was absolutely convinced that there was a predetermined fate for you, Harry, since the time Voldemort first attacked you. One that, when I learned of it, I lashed back at the man over, demanding that it had to be false, or at the least reversible without the old man's drastic means being even considered. But I, even I have not as yet discovered a means to bring it about with destroying you, Harry."

Harry grew very quiet, coaxing the full truth from Faykan, who turned away in sad disgust. "There is one Horcrux of Voldemort's remaining." He said after a time.

Both Istari were silent for a long moment, and then Harry sighed, "I knew it was going far too easily for us this year…" he said, attempting and failing to inject humor into the mood, "It does explain a lot about me that has happened over the years, you know…"

Faykan managed a grim smile, but the point was made. Taking a deep breath, Harry turned to stare out toward Hogsmeade, "So it's all been for naught, then?" he asked, "The war, I mean. We can't win until all the Horcruxes are gone."

Faykan was silent again, and Harry felt the weight of hopelessness washing over him. Idly he pulled from his robe the Phial of Galadriel, looking at the translucent water through its crystal container. "A light in dark places, when all other lights go out…" he recited to himself, remembering the instructions of how to use the powerful and wondrous object, housing the light of a Silmaril set in the heavens as Eärendil'sstar.

Catching movement from the corner of his eye, Harry started to turn back to Faykan, but his fellow Istari lunged forward, snatching the crystal Phial from him. "Of course," he murmured to himself, turning the crystal over in his hands, "the answer was right here in front of me the entire time, preplanned by the Lady of the Wood herself."

Turning back to look at Harry with wide eyes, Faykan took a step forward. "Hold perfectly still Harry, I believe I have solved the issue…" he said carefully, pulling the crystal stop from the Phial. Eyes wide at what was happening, Harry wanted to back away, unsure what was going to happen, but his feet were rooted to the spot, and carefully Faykan poured a small amount of the water upon his face, bathing the scar in a small fraction of the Phial's contents.

"Aiya, Eärendil Elenion Ancalima!" Faykan cried, holding the crystal up to Harry's face, and he had to shut his eyes to block out the blinding white light as the Phial burst into bright illumination. His scar felt as though it had been dipped in molten metal, but Harry didn't dare move to brush the water away, especially when a deep, inhuman shriek was heard coming from his own head.

Everything seemed to slow to a standstill for a moment, and the agony seemed to stretch out over the extended time, before it abruptly ended. Tipping forward from the strain of resisting the human urge to recoil at the pain, Harry's eyes widened when the water dripping from his face was black and filthy. Was that what had been inside the scar for so long?

Oddly enough, Harry felt immensely better upon seeing the darkness extracted from himself, almost lighter, like a fog was swept away from his mind.

"It is finished," Faykan said, replacing the stopper of the Phial and returning the artifact to Harry. He was smiling, far brighter and fuller than Harry remembered seeing in almost three years time. All that was left for them was to wait for the battle to reach them, and eliminate the monster of Voldemort once and for all.

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The Dark Lord lurched where he stood as he felt the final Horcrux be utterly destroyed. Now at last was the time to strike. Rising up in great power, for he was absolute, and mortals were to tremble before him, he took command of his host. The feeble man was powerless against the mental onslaught of the Great One, his oft destroyed soul a mere fraction of the strength of the Dark Lord of the Earth.

"My Lord?" said one of the servants nearest to him, and as the Dark Lord gained control of his chosen vessel at last; he turned to look at the woman. Once fair, but now a disgustingly hollow shell of former glory, the insane creature before him was little more than a flightless bird, useless in all but a few remaining tasks.

"Give the order," the Dark Lord commanded, testing the limits of his new form, and relishing the use of a physical body once again. After so many centuries it was still as simple as a gesture and a thought to move, to speak. He had watched his vessel work his powerful magic, use the great gift that the Dark Lord himself had commanded delivered to him, and now all his waiting and plotting had come to fruition.

However there was still the Istari, and his forces that hindered his return in full. They all must die. The woman scurried to obey him, not even questioning the change of demeanor in her Lord, and the Dark Lord of the Earth rose to follow in her wake, sensing discreetly that even his faithful minions had sensed his return.

Soon his full strength would be gathered, and once again, for a third time, he would seek to cover all the land with darkness, and turn this Middle Earth into his own kingdom. The Great Darkness had once sought to destroy, but the Dark Lord had learned differently, and knew that to seek complete domination over the peoples of this world was worth far more than any spiting of the great powers that had created them.

He would succeed where the great Morgoth had failed, for he was wiser, stronger, and once again clothed in a body of the earth.

Skin stretching over his face in a smile, the Dark Lord Sauron watched as his great army once more came together under his terrible banner. This time, there was no pathetic Halfling to stop him, no wizard who could match him, and no damnable Heir of the house of Isildur to outwit him.

"They have all assembled my Lord," the woman said as she returned, bowing and scraping at the earth before him as her kind ought to be before the Dark God of the East.

Ignoring the woman, the Dark Lord turned to find his true general, summoning him to his side with a thought. The witch shrank back as the Lord of the Nazgûl, the greatest of all his servants approached, conversing with his master in the Black Speech of his ancient realm.

This being, once a mortal man, who had now transcended death to the realms of shadow and passed from age to age like an ever present darkness would once again take up his mighty role for his Lord. Only the one that was said no living man could kill would be good enough to lead Sauron's armies in war, the last war.

The commands understood, the Witch King of Angmar turned, mounting his black steed and bellowing a cry that was chorused by all the dark creatures for miles around. They knew the call to battle, remembered it from ages past like the very blood in their veins. Sauron, the Dark Lord over all the Earth, watched with a darkened smile as his forces departed in mass, heading due north, to where this bastion of the White Council and their allies huddled and waited for death.

Try and fight as they may, they had no hope left. "The age of the elves has passed," Sauron said to himself, relishing the new voice of his own body, "and men crumble and decay as they are weakened. The time of the orc has come at last…"

Extending his new magical powers, given to him by this body, a descendant of his own enemies, Sauron reached through space and teleported to the outskirts of the outlying village before his enemies' stronghold. It was truly ironic, that the line of Isildur would both destroy his own body, then prepare means for him to take up another.

Tasting the air with great care, Sauron felt he powerful light magic that were washing over the castle just across the small village from his position. They would think his armies would take hours to reach them, but they were mistaken. Calling up the massive amount of black lore that he had both learned and created over his long existence, the Dark Lord swept out an arm, burning the fabric of reality to open a doorway for his entire army to pass through.

Within moments the Lord of Angmar was at his side once again, expectantly awaiting his orders. "Begin…" Sauron commanded, and with a roar of power the Witch King held his sword high, signaling the army to attack. Down the slope they charged, weapons glistening and spells flying from the humans that were under his command. When the first battalions were well away, the General of the armies of Mordor dropped his weapon, making the reserves wait for their time of need.

Sauron knew that this battle would take its toll on his servants, and he couldn't allow them all to be slain so quickly. The weakest among them were always sent first, to test the waters of their foe's strength and caliber.

Raising the mortal's wand whose body was now his own, Sauron smirked as he launched the man's symbol into the air without a word. The green, coiling serpent was nothing on the great eye which was his own banner, but for the time being it would suffice to keep his enemies from guessing the true foe that they faced until it was all too late for them to stop him.

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Draco, along with dozens of others working quickly in and around the school stopped as the wind howled with the mad voices of orcs and Death Eaters. Fire flares in the direction of Hogsmeade, and many a villager wept openly at the destruction of the homes and businesses.

But most terrible of all was the Dark Mark as it flared to life over the village. Harry and Faykan appeared at the door of the school. "Our enemy is ready," Faykan said coolly, watching with seemingly serene ease, "his full strength gathered…"

"And only a fool would stand up to this madness now!" blustered someone nearby. Draco turned to see Mad-Eye Moody stomping forward, at the head of several of the key leaders of the Order of the Phoenix. "We ought to have evacuated the school, gone to ground, and started a resistance that would last for years to come against this madman."

Turning softly toward the scarred man, Harry spoke next, "and do you honestly think that would have worked Alastor? Hiding and pecking at Voldemort's hands while he ravaged the whole of Europe? Were we to be content with light skirmishes and small pockets of fighting while the rest of the world suffered? No, our fight is here, when we have the one opportunity to defeat the man once and for all."

"Besides," Faykan added with a smirk, "I thought we were all a little mad to do this in the first place? Otherwise why would you even be here?"

At first Draco thought Moody would rage at the pair of them, but after a few moments the man's face softened slightly, and he threw his head back and laughed, "Ha! You've got me there, you two. Yes we're all a bit mad to fight him here, I think, but where would the fun be in living the practical way all the time. A chance to end it all here is worth dying for."

Harry and Faykan nodded to the Auror, who barked at his people to get back to work, and Draco turned once more to stare at the glowing Dark Mark before he allowed his mind to drift back to preparing the castle for what was to come.

Potential Spoilers Ahead, You Have Been Warned!

And at last, Sauron, the true enemy of all the Earth, has been revealed. Voldemort is defeated, as he never was the true threat as spoken by the prophecies. Until next time! ~F