A/N: Hey guys! We're sorry for the long wait, things have been rather busy. I won't keep you here long, because you're probably all extremely anxious to start reading! So here you go!

Chapter Twenty-Nine: One Down, One to Go

January 4, 2002

Severus Snape knew better than to remind the Dark Lord about ideas that he would bring up. In that, he was much like his counterpart on the Light Side, Snape thought to himself. Both the Dark Lord and the Goat Lover liked to maintain their control of their followers and their blanket of infallibility – once an idea was suggested, the wise follower of either man would have to sit back and allow their leader to think about the proposal and adopt or reject it.

Thus the summons to the Dark Lord's current home was unexpected.

Popping in to the room Voldemort had designed as a throne room, he made his obeisance, sinking to one knee and bowing his head.

"Rise, SSeverus," came the hissing voice of his Master. "I have been thinking much about your earlier idea and I was initially opposed to it, seeing that the Potter brat is across the Atlantic and that he shows no indication or interest in joining the old man's crusade.

"But I now begin to see the merit in your suggestion.

"This war is at a stalemate – Minister Bones has proven to be an able opponent and she has demonstrated a viciousness that I had not expected from those who oppose our noble cause.

"I had grown used to the bleeding heart consciousness of the old fool. I had thought that he would have been able to reign in Bones and then I had decided to take her out myself, but she has proven to be more resilient and tougher than I thought.

"No, we need to make a gesture to demonstrate to those who still oppose me that their cause is lost – and walking into Diagon Alley with the head of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, hanging from my hand will tell all those who still resist that further resistance is futile.

"I have one charge for you, SSeverusss. You are to get me an exact location where I and the best members of my Inner Circle can apparate in, strike and then return to Britain with my 'trophy' in my hand.

"And you, my sslippery friend, you are going to accompany me as well." With those words, Voldemort signaled for him to leave.

"So he has accepted your idea, Severus?" The excitement in the eyes of Dumbledore was unmistakable.

"Yes," Snape replied, his patience nearly worn completely out. Only a few days into the new term and his patience with these dunderheads must have been wearing thin. How was he to find out exactly what he had been seeing when he had performed Legilimency on Potter? It was just a park with a tunnel and a carousel.

"I took the liberty of reviewing the memory you gave me, Severus," the old headmaster continued, his eyes twinkling madly. "I consulted one or two of my old associates who had been in the City of New York and they tell me that the picture is that of Central Park and a tunnel entrance to underground sewers by the Central Park Carousel.

"I have been carefully researching that location – it is a shame that we do not have much magical contacts in this area – and I have what I believe are the magical coordinates of that Carousel.

"I believe that you would be arriving right at Mr. Potter's front door."

Snape felt a massive headache coming on. He was tired- tired of being the bum boy between two demanding Dark Lords. Yes, that was what he called Dumbledore – the old fool might differ in his methods from the Dark Lord, but his inconsideration of those who were touched by his machinations had affects as terrible as his other master's rages. One ruled by fear and Crucio; the other ruled by use of obliviation and consummate planning and manipulation 'for the Greater Good!'

Still, the idea of sticking it to James Potter one more time by seeing an attack on his son was not something he wanted to miss. Of course, if possible, he would do what he could to 'protect' young Potter from a fatal attack – by doing that, he could keep his promise in regards to Lily. But Potter the son seemed to be as arrogant as his father had been with his thumbing his nose at British wizarding tradition. He no more believed that Potter had been killed by the Blood Summoning Ritual than the old fool did.

Now, of course, the old fool would want him to rush back to the Dark Lord's side and communicate the coordinates to him. That he would do – after he had a break.

"Thank you, Albus," he said in his silky voice, hiding both his headache pain and his disgust and impatience with the headmaster "I will see the Dark Lord later and bring him this information."

"Why do you not go now to the site – I have taken the liberty of procuring an international portkey and I would suggest that going in to reconnoiter is always a wise move.

"And don't worry about your classes – I will cover them for the short time you will be away."

Merlin, now his headache was going to get worse.

Central Park

Carousel

January 12, 2002

He hated portkeys.

He hated portkeys of any kind.

However, he saved his strongest disgust for international portkeys.

It took him several minutes of leaning against a snow-covered tree before his head stopped spinning and he was able to look around.

He was definitely in a park. The sounds of children laughing were mingled with the sounds of traffic in the distance.

He had left Hogwarts in the early afternoon – it appeared that here in New York, it was mid-morning. The air was chill, but not as cold as winter in the Highlands of Scotland, and he quickly cast a warming charm around himself.

He was standing in a clearing set back among some trees, but he could make out a wood structure in the distance. Pushing through the bushes and the ankle deep snow, he emerged out onto a walkway and could now see the building clearly. It was definitely a carousel.

A few minutes and several steps later, he could see the site of the vision he had stolen from the Potter brat's mind. There was the culvert; there was the carousel – he could even sense the faint traces of magic having been used in this area before.

Unknown to him, one of the MFBI agents tasked to monitor wards had just registered the visitor's own magical presence. Checking to confirm that it was not anyone from the New York office or one of the magicals known to frequently visit the World Below, he hit his communication mike and quietly whispered, "Got you. Alex, we have an unknown magical signature by the Carousel entrance."

"Record it and let me see it. I will be right there," came the sharp short reply.

Alex had thought long and hard about the frustrating meeting at Gringotts back in November. Dumbledore was no fool. He had tried the same approach at the OWLs center once he had made actual contact with Harry, all the while pursuing a second strategy of attempting to kidnap him. He had not really said anything new in that meeting other than anger Harry and the rest of the family. Criticizing Hermione's assumption of the Potter title; telling Harry he still had an obligation towards Britain: all were signs of someone who really did not listen. And while he knew Albus Dumbledore never really did listen to opinions not his own, this was too blatant even for him and appeared to have been doomed for failure right from the start.

No, he suspected that the legilimency attack of Snape was part of a deeper plan by Dumbledore – if he could not gain control over Harry enough to bring him back to Britain to eventually face the Dark Lord, he might try to entice the Dark Lord over to the United States here. And for that, he would need the exact location of where Harry Wells lived. Thus the legilimency attack.

So, with the approval of the residents of the World Below and the magicals connected with this community, he asked the MFBI HQ to set up wards along the entire edge of Central Park. Their answer was quite simple – and in Alex's mind, quite ingenious.

Rather than ward every possible entrance to the tunnels, the MFBI R and D section has suggested setting up an umbrella ward around Central Park based on evil intent towards Harry Potter or Harry Wells. Then, if either the Dark Lord or one of his servants were to come calling, their presence would be immediately noted and surveillance or stronger methods would begin and be set in place.

A quick strike team was assembled, trained and ready to be put into action, but first contact had to be made to determine who the current invader was. Thus, when Snape arrived, his current thoughts about the 'Potter brat' alerted the wards that a hostile towards Harry had arrived.

The surveillance detail arrived silently seconds after Snape began his own reconnaissance. Alex did not trust himself not to hex whoever had been sent over from Britain and so he stayed in the command post, trusting his subordinates to either disillusion themselves or act as mundane New Yorkers out and about on their business. The sniper team stood ready and Harry had already been notified so that if it proved to be the Dark Lord, he could emerge from behind a magical shield, taunt the older wizard and then lure him into the killing zone.

"No match with the description of the Dark Lord, Alex," the voice of his second in command quietly reported. "It appears to match the description of that Snape fellow, the one who performed that illegal legilimency on Wells-Black."

Alex growled. "Probably trying to determine the veracity of what he stole from Wells' mind," he told his second. "Do nothing, but monitor. Either Dumbledore or the Dark Lord sent him – I think he's checking things out."

His second continued to observe Snape from a distance, praising anew the high resolution zoom binoculars that his counterparts from the FBI had given him. Those who believed in the superiority of magic could learn a real lesson from seeing the usefulness of mundane technology.

"It seems he is casting about the carousel – there, he's jerked up. I suspect he picked up Wells' magical signature – he's marking the area with a few spells – I'd bet you he's laying down some kind of magical marker – on a bush near the carousel – whoa, there he goes.

"He just took a portkey out of here. Given the flash of blue, I suspect it was an international portkey. He's gone, boss."

"Have fire squad A maintain discreet surveillance for fifteen or twenty in case he comes back or brings a friend," Alex ordered. He keyed his mike off and sat back in his chair, thinking. He assumed Snape was Dumbledore's man, but there had been the occasional report from Minister Bones' office that Snape was suspected of being Voldemort's man.

Was the black-clad Potions Professor playing both sides? Did he work two sides of the war? Who was he marking out the territory for?

He jerked upright in his chair. Was Dumbledore using Snape to map out a position so that he could report with pinpoint accuracy where the suspected home of the Boy-Who-Lived was?

Knowing Dumbledore from prior encounters and more from studying him during the recent months, he wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to feed Harry's location to Snape to in turn feed it to the Dark Lord. And with the use of international portkeys, he decided it was time to activate the portkey wards. Again, his goal was not to forbid the arrival of international travelers, but to be aware of them and be ready when they came. He seriously wanted this dance with Dumbledore, the Dark Lord and Harry Wells to end for the sake of the world below, the Wells' and the two families who were joining themselves to Harry.

There was also a sense of anticipation. He had had run-ins with the old man before; times where he had interfered with the path of justice. Now, however, if Dumbledore was doing what he thought he was doing, he could bag both the Dark Lord and the old man.

Not bad for someone who enjoyed playing pool.

Alex began making notes on the reported encounter with Snape. Snape – that was another complicated individual. He was reported by Dumbledore to be a spy for the light, according to Shacklebolt anyway – and that he had been a spy since the end of the last war. That meant that Snape had been playing both sides down the middle for at least twenty years – twenty years of orbiting between the old man and the Dark Lord. How could that caustic personality have survived as long as it had with an almost daily exposure to Dumbledore? One either got sick of the old man's platitudes and patient grandfather persona or one fell in love with the old man's legend, the legend at least in his own mind that he was the greatest wizard since Merlin.

Alex wondered about Snape – being caught between two strong personalities, he wondered if Snape was loyal to either of them – or perhaps only loyal to himself. Whomever he was loyal to, he was here for one or possibly both dark lords.

So, he reviewed again his disposition of available forces, his allocation of teams and what he anticipated might occur. Thank Franklin for magic suppression field generators, the latest object to be invented by their own MFBI special unit.

Winterfest was only a week away and Harry was hoping that the looming threat of the old goat and the Dark Lord would be resolved before then. They needed an end to this.

A gentle set of hands began massaging the back of his neck. "Oh yes! Oh yes, Mione, Mione – you've hit the spot," he said, his eyes closed in sheer bliss.

"'arry! Just because I spend time with a third member of Triad does not mean that I am she," a French accented voice said behind him, with a hint of pique.

Harry jerked his eyes open and set up quickly, looking around him wildly only to see two laughing young women behind him. They had pranked him with Hermione's hands and Fleur's voice.

"Oui, 'ermione, we are going to have spend time training this young man to better tell the two of us apart," Fleur said, laughing and looking at her bond mate.

"I don't know – he's a male and males are not always the most perceptive of people," Hermione replied.

"You didn't even give me a chance," Harry began to say, but thought he should stop there. "I've not one but two of you to taunt me and haunt my dreams."

Hermione took on a professorial air, lecturing a particularly difficult student. "Well, it appears that Magic thinks that you need the two of us to keep you on the straight and narrow, Harry."

Their little tete a tete was interrupted by Vincent. "Ah, my two daughters, it appears that you have been harassing your young man again."

Turning to his son, he ruffled his son's hair. "You see, Harry, you should have followed my example. I only give myself to one woman."

"Dad, I didn't choose this. Magic did," Harry whined.

"So, are you blaming magic now – that you have two women to taunt you?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised dangerously.

He first thought of snapping off another zinger, but then discretion won out over a quick hit – he had no wish for his two bond mates to combine forces against him. In that scenario, he would always lose.

"I accept that my life needs the gift of these two lovely young women, without whom I am simply destined to be an unfulfilled man."

Vincent's chuckle was matched by Diana's broadening smile – she had been observing the four from the doorway with Catherine and Erin. But her eldest daughter thought that her oldest brother was getting off too easily.

"Harry, you're lying. The tone of your voice says so," the normally shy girl said, wanting to defend the two older women who she was secretly admiring. "If you believed that, you would be on your knees right now thanking them in a tangible way."

Harry's only complaint was Catherine's misplaced loyalty. "I thought you were supposed to be on my side, Cathy – not theirs."

"No, Harry! Family loyalty is only to be against someone who threatens the family from the outside. These two are family and they're teaching me about me and how to read them – and right now I'm reading that you're a liar."

Vincent and Diana looked at one another, both pleased and surprised. Was this their shy Catherine? What other influences would these two women be on their community if they could affect such a change in this girl?

A sudden clanging on the pipes interrupted further conversation as the Wells family listened intently. Seconds later, a silver fox came to their chamber looking for Harry and the two young witches.

"We believe that we finally have a bite – a big bite. Meeting requested – council chamber," came Alex's voice from the fox.

Harry gave an affirmative answer and the fox ran back the way it had come. The mood had changed completely and Triad, plus Vincent and Diana, walked towards the council chamber/library after her mother had told Catherine to stay behind. Even as the preteen pouted, Fleur winked at her future sister-in-law and gave her a thumbs up before following the others.

"Alex thinks things are finally beginning to move," Harry told his parents as they entered the council chamber.

Vincent nodded his head. "I have been sensing that things are coming to a head, that darkness approaches once more."

Harry looked at his parents and at his bond mates. "I so much want to join with these lovely young women in Triad during Winterfest, but I don't want to risk letting my guard down and allowing any of the Dark Lords to try to take me or attack that which I hold so dear.

"And I will not allow you to put yourselves at risk."

"Harry Jacob Vincent Wells, I do not let my man stand alone," Fleur stated firmly.

"Neither do I, Harry," Hermione echoed. "We're with you to the end."

He was about to argue stubbornly that they needed to stay safe when Alex and Jacob Wells Senior entered the chamber, followed by Sebastien Delacour. Fleur rushed to her father, hugging him fiercely.

"Papa, this is such a surprise."

The former French Auror only laughed and hugged her tightly even as Alex looked at Vincent, Diana and Triad.

"No one is asking Harry to take a risk either, ladies," he said with a smile. "He will be protected by the best that we have – and we will use deadly force. We do not pussyfoot with Dark Lords."

"When do you think?" Harry asked.

"I want to station a squad of our best here in the tunnels rather than outside – so that they can be nearby, but not frozen while we wait for the fish to come back and bite," Alex continued.

"That can be arranged," Vincent said after eying his father closely.

"But what is going to trigger the alert?" Harry asked. "How much lead time will we have?"

"Approximately 15 minutes. From the moment an International Portkey is activated, we will have approximately that amount of time to get ready.

"We don't doubt that they have portkeys – obtained via illegal methods."

Seeing Diana and Vincent's looks of incomprehension, Alex tried to explain. "Portkeys are another form of magical transportation – they allow magicals to transport or teleport across great distances. An international portkey allows one to go across greater and longer distances – across country borders for example. They are usually highly regulated and bring an international traveler to specific portkey reception points similar to customs points at an airport.

"However, there is a black market in illegal international portkeys and we know that if the Dark Lord is coming, he won't go through legal channels to get one.

"Why we called you is that we believe that our friend, one Severus Snape, was here to establish a beacon for an illegal international portkey here in Central Park by the Carousel entrance – to its right.

"I would strongly recommend, Vincent, that you clear tunnel traffic over the next few days to other tunnel entrances from now until this issue is resolved. It could come at any time."

Vincent again looked at his father, then Diana, finally back at Alex. "Why do you suggest this?"

"The dark Lord is a cruel and avaricious man who would think nothing of using hostages to either force Harry out or just to simply torture others until he gets what he wants. There is no humanity left in him – and I would not want to see any non-magical or tunnel dweller caught in his spell fire.

"I have heard of situations where his opponents backed down due to his having a hostage and then he kills the hostage in front of his opponent before he kills them.

"He has no regard for human life."

Vincent nodded his approval and Diana took notes while Alex was silent stroking his chin.

"I believe we will see a number of international portkeys – in two tight waves together. Tom Riddle or Lord Voldemort as he is known has sufficient power to engage in an apparition across the Atlantic – much like Harry did when he came to you so many years ago. But he will not come alone. He will most likely attempt to hide behind his elite, his inner circle of true believers. He doesn't like to risk himself.

"When the object of his search or hatred is found, that is when he normally emerges – or when he can supply the tipping balance to his forces to ensure complete victory, then he will come out and strike.

"All he knows is the address of your front door. He does not really understand what he is walking into."

Harry grew excited. "So we could set a magical trap?"

"No! The Dark Lord is known to be a skilled and cunning fighter. He will not move into a place of ambush – as far of dark tunnels or where he could be attacked from behind. No, he will attempt to strike fast, quick, and hard – and this is where he must think he has cornered you.

"And this is where two of our new little toys will play a big role. The first is a light projection – a holographic projection, bending of light, giving light substance so that it has your voice, your form, even can echo your magic – but not be you. You will be there, but you will be under cover.

"We will deal with him – not you. You will not interact with him except by the holographic projection. And, to ensure due process, you will ask him once, and only once, to surrender in the name of the Potter magic, of your magic and in the name of the Magical United States.

"He must hear your voice. He must know that you know who he is; he must believe he is facing you and after that, once it is established, your projection will duck.

"But what about his magic? Would he not be able to apparate away when he senses a trap?" Harry asked.

"No, thanks to another one of our new discoveries. We have developed a magical suppression field and the emitters are already stationed around the park. Once he is ready to attack, a wave of one of our unspeakable's wands and voila, no more magic for the Dark Lord or his followers.'

Harry liked what he was hearing although it was built on a few assumptions. "When do you think he would strike? Winterfest is in five days."

Alex smiled reassuringly to the Wells, Father and the two young witches. "I think we will know the end result in two days."

Snape returned first to the Dark Lord, sharing with his Master the images of what he had seen and the magical beacon he had planted in New York, then to Dumbledore.

"Does Tom believe it to be an ambush?" the old headmaster asked.

"No. He is a little unsure of what method we would use to smoke out the brat from his hidey-hole, but he will seek to complete the job. This is because he is salivating over the impact he could make by appearing in Diagon Alley with Potter's head on a pike and his skinned corpse left in the Atrium at the Ministry."

"Then anyone can take Tom down. Then I will do what should have been done – and I will give Tom one last opportunity to repent and see the light of what he has done before we do what must be done."

The old man was a bloody fool, Snape kept thinking to himself. He was hoping against hope for the sake of the oath that he had once sworn that it would just be an injured brat that would come out of the confrontation. However, no matter which way it went, Snape felt the war was coming to an end, for better or for worse, they were coming to the final phase of the war.

The thing about Tom Riddle was that he enjoyed planning, consummate planning – and one thing he prided himself in was his ability to move at lightning speed. He had already concluded that the attack should happen no later than one day after Snape had returned. In fact he had decided that he wanted to teach the Magical United States a lesson – that the price of harboring an enemy of the Dark Lord was a painful one and so he was looking for a way to inflict maximum casualties.

He thought of what he had learned in dealing with non-magical Britain in the first years of his campaign – of rush hour amidst the scramble of people going to and coming from work. Of course, non-magical Britain had gotten a lot smarter over the years – they had received advice from their magical counterparts and had taken steps to beef up security and change rush hour habits so that pickings were much leaner these days for his Death Eaters.

The U S, though, was a land ripe for terror, for spreading the fear of magic – and they believed in an egalitarian sharing of the bloods that was so anathema for his Death Eaters back in Britain. Even though he himself was a half blood, he knew he could trace his magical lineage back to Salazar Slytherin himself, one of the purest stocks imaginable.

So, it was at 11:00 p.m. the following evening that Snape's arm burned. It was the summoning – he knew that it was time.

He quickly sent a patronus to Albus detailing that the Master was calling his Inner Circle and then he vanished.

Dumbledore charged up his own portkey – another one of his sock puppets – got his wand ready and made ready to vanish himself. He wanted, no he needed to be there to witness the final confrontation and, should young Mr. Potter survive, take charge and take custody of the young man in preparation for his role as his new understudy.

Thankfully Snape had shared the coordinates as well.

There were six in the strike force – the two Malfoy men, Severus Snape, Bellatrix and Rabastan Lestrange and of course, the Dark Lord himself. These were the survivors – all the rest of his inner circle from the launch of the second war in 1995 were gone; martyrs in the struggle to keep the cause alive. Now, final victory lay in his grasp and it was fitting that these five should be with him to witness his triumph.

"My friendssss," he hissed. "Today we strike a blow that will end this war. Today, we move againssst the boy who lived. Ah, yesss, I sssee some of you are shaking your heads. The goblins declared that the boy had died. I have newsss for you my friends – the boy who lived is a coward: he chose to hide in New York City, in America, where he intends to take up with a mudblood and a beast, a Veela.

"Mr. Potter tellsss the old fool he has no interest in the taste of war and blood. He does not want to fight me – but he will learn that perhapsss he should have listened to the old fool.

"Mr. Potter must die by my hand – then we will take his skinned corpse and his severed head, along with the twitching corpses of his two loveliesss – and magical Britain will know that indeed the war is over.

"By this blow, we are already looking for new sssscenes of conquest – by teaching the American mongrels that it is evil to mix magical blood."

He went on like this for five more minutes, seeking to inspire the troops, but sharing a message that they had heard before many, many times. Then he produced two portkeys, and making a show of charging them up.

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, one of Albus's many new devices was one that he had never shared with anyone – a ward that allowed him to know when an illegal portkey was being charged and where the launch point was. That Madame Bones and the legitimate government of Magical Britain would have really appreciated this item went without saying, but the old man believed that given Bones' current violent tendencies, it would not be in the greater good for this information to be shared.

He had been waiting for the signal that Tom was on his way – and then he could see the end of the war. The soul fragment possessing young Mr. Potter would be killed by Tom's own hand and then he would face Tom and get him to repent – or kill him. He needed to be there to witness the events.

Even if Mr. Potter brought down the Dark Lord, knowing what he knew about the Magical United States, unless Harry fought Tom wand to wand, magic to magic, then it would be his sad task to arrest the boy who lived even if after defeating Tom he would be the Man who Conquered.

Of course, all this would be done with a view to redeeming young Harry. He would be escorted to Magical Britain where he would face a choice – either Azkaban for killing a wizard with muggle means or apprenticeship under his, Dumbledore's own wise guidance.

He was already beginning to plan young Harry's future path. He would allow Mr. Potter to beget an heir as the Potter estate would require a new heir to carry on the magical lineage of one of Britain's oldest magical families. He could hardly wait to begin shaping a post Tom as Dark Lord world.

MFBI Command HQ

Operation Dark Lords Takedown

5:15 p.m.

January 6, 2002

"Portkey alert – unauthorized portkey activation with projected target as New York City," came the agent manning the scope. "It's a big one."

"Do we have an ETA and group size?"

The agent scanned his display again. "I see two groupings – estimate is between 6 to 8 individuals – including one big mother of a magical signature. Coming in with two portkeys.

"Hold, we have a third portkey being activated from the north of Scotland – this one has the same destination as the first two – New York City. This is another powerful individual."

Alex who had been contacted immediately had apparatus into the control centre and had caught the last comments. So his guess had been correct – Albus too many titles Dumbledore was coming as well – right into America, right on American soil to see that his manipulations would unfold as they should. Albus, he thought to himself, thank you.

"You know what to do," he told Agent Wilcox, commander of the MFBI SWAT team. "The gloves are off the firing team."

Wilcox smiled, a cold, thin smile. "Magical suppression field powering up in ten; SWAT teams are moving into position. Mr. Wells?"

"I'll alert him. You go and prepare to welcome our guests."

Alex picked up the cell phone and alerted Harry. "On route," the young wizard replied.

It actually took the sniper teams two minutes to arrive at their designated positions, but the initial calculations on Voldemort's two portkeys were off by a minute. Thus, while the magical suppression fields were scheduled to light up as soon as the last SWAT sniper was in place, this left the Dark Lord and his inner circle one minute to begin to wreak havoc.

Fortunately for the park, the cold winter weather had kept most of the regular users of the park away and those few brave travelers who ventured out in the below normal temperatures were redirected by the plain clothed MFBI and FBI agents who were erecting police barriers around the expected area of confrontation.

Unfortunately for Rita Diaz and her daughter Philomena, they had already entered the zone.

The six British magicals shook off the effects of a long distance portkey and the Dark Lord looked around him, noting that another feat was being added to the legend of his power. But all they could see were snow covered hills, trees, a carousel and what looked like a tunnel entrance to a sewer system.

"Snape?" the Dark Lord began smoothly, too smoothly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Master, this was the place from the brat's mind," the potions master replied.

Sensing the truth in his servant's words, Voldemort raised his wand. "Well, if this is where the heir of James Potter chooses to live, I suggest we give him a wake up call." Pointing his wand at the tunnel, he shouted, "Diffindo!" and with a red burst, the tunnel entrance disintegrated. The other Death Eaters followed and the heavily reinforced concrete doors and tunnel walls fell apart under their magical assault.

"Mr. Potter, come out, come out. It's time to face your destiny," Voldemort called.

Then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and saw the frozen form of a woman and her child on the park pathway nearest the carousel. She was looking right into the red-eyed face of Britain's most feared dark magical in 100 years.

Lazily, he raised his wand and pointed it at both the mother and her daughter. "Avada Kedavra!" he called out and the two figures collapsed in a green blaze of light. The first casualties of Voldemort's war on America had just fallen.

The Dark Lord next cast around him, looking for some sign of his enemy. He wished now that he had done more research – now that he could see that he was not visiting a house, but a hole in the ground. Then he saw a figure of a tall, thin raven-haired man stepped out from the ruined tunnel.

"I take it you must be that Dark Lord that the old man keeps talking about," the young man said. "He told me that you and I met two decades ago more or less.

"The old fool told me that we didn't have a good encounter back then and based on what you did to my front door, I doubt that we are going to have a good one now."

"Potter?" the Dark Lord croaked out in surprise at his insolent attitude.

"The name is Harry Jacob Vincent Wells. I'm sure the old fool told you that he killed me. So why have you come to America? I have no quarrel with you – if you were content to stay on your side of the water, I wouldn't have come looking for you."

"Potter, Potter – at least you have the courage to stand up to me," Voldemort replied, aware that his servants were gradually moving into positions of a semi circle around the young man and the shattered door.

"Tom, Tom, Tom – I believe that is your name? I have no quarrel. But I am afraid that the Magical United States government does. You came here with the intent to kill – and you have already killed two innocent civilians, two people who had no quarrel with you.

"Now I can understand if you are here because you were egged by black as a bat, Snape, I believe his name is. I can understand that. But you've picked a fight with a country at war and I'm not sure…."

"Magical wards in place and now active, Sir," came a voice that cut through the two men speaking to one another. Immediately, the Death Eaters and Voldemort felt an emptiness come over them.

"What deviltry is this?" "Master!" came the cry. "Our magic!"

"They are magical suppression wards, nothing more," Lord Voldemort replied, even as he both mentally tipped his hand to the young man in front of him and stumbled himself. For he was a magical creation and if the wards remained in force too long, his magical body would fade to dust. No, he had to draw upon the power of his followers, those not in the circle of these wards.

"I can burn the wards out," he said to reassure his followers even as he drew more deeply on the magic of his own Death Eater followers.

At that moment, before he could put his theory on how to overcome the wards to the test, a heavy steel jacketed lead slug tore through his head and his skull exploded in a mist of blood , bone and brains.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort, He Who Must Not Be Named – died that instant and there was this time no recourse for him to return.

With that particular shot, it was the signal for five more snipers to open up on the remaining five Death Eaters. Two more bullets found their way into the Dark Lord's body, still twitching; Lucius Malfoy fell to another sniper; Severus Snape fell to a fusillade of three bullets; Rabastan and Bellatrix Lestrange, unable to erect a shield, died as they had fought, together, watching one another's back. Draco Malfoy was the only one who survived the first two rounds and as he raised his head, he ignored the pleas of the sniper commander to keep his head down; seconds later, his brains were splattered all over the still warm corpse of his father.

The first and only visit of the Death Eaters to America had ended in complete and utter defeat for the feared followers of the Dark Lord. The war was over.

Those who were looking at the young man's form noticed something strange as it flickered and then died. The young man was no longer there – and yet, seconds later, from behind a concrete wall, came that same young man.

"Is it over?" he asked.

"It is. The Dark Lord has died, Harry. It's over," Alex's second in command said. Agent Wilcox could now breathe easier.

"I'm afraid that it is not," came an old voice from a direction none of the snipers had anticipated. "I am afraid, Harry, that I must take you into custody for the murder of Tom Marvolo Riddle, a British wizard, by the use of non magical weapons."

BANG!

A/N: What did you think? We would apologize for the cliffie...but we won't, because we like keeping you in suspense! We should have the next chapter up alot sooner than this one, so keep an eye open!

P.S Recently, our school has started a creative writing club on under the name Quick Quills. Feel free to check it out!