A.N. Hey guess what?! I'm back! (Giddy dance)

Sorry for the (scowls distastefully) delay, but you know how life is …

(Shrugs)

A.N.N. We (i.e. avid Harry Potter Fans) are mere months away from discovering the ultimate truth. Book 7 is out in July. Just after Film 5, I believe. But … well, my story deals with certain issues within the book that will be addressed later on. Like the Horcruxes. So I am going to make it real clear, here, that from here on in, anything relating to the Horcruxes and the Final Battle are completely AU. Like you, I know not what is to come for Harry, so this is merely my interpretation of what could happen. I hope it's enjoyable!

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As always, thanks to everyone that's reviewed! The Doctor's Tenth Companion, Shrink To Be, padfoots-wife, Tai Greywing, Blaidd Drwgg, addicted-to-fantasy, izzfrogger and blondesavmorefun!

Doobrey Ferkin: Thank you so much! Yup, can't wait for my GCSEs … looks around to see how many people are staring at her with shock, confusion and pity burning within their eyes … not insane, not a workaholic, not insane, not a workaholic … Okay, maybe just a little bit …
Ahem, moving on … Thank you again! Much appreciated! And 'cause you seem to like 'em so much (and because you sent me chocolate! ;P), I'm gonna send you even more sporks! Everyone loves sporks! Yay for the Sporks!!
Not insane, promise! Anyway, thanks for reviewing! Thanks for reading! Thanks for sticking with me, even through my insane replies and wide-spread updating routines! It really does mean so much!

LittleGinny15: Thanks for reviewing again! I still love hearing from you! Hope you like this one! Oh, and Doctor/Rose fluff? You'll just have to wait and see … Smiles mysteriously …

Specks of Gold

Jack could do nothing. He merely watched, his heart thumping, his mind racing, a strange sense of doom settling within his veins, as Voldemort took an edgy step forwards, wand poised and aimed directly at Jack's heart.

'So this is how it ends. Sorry, Teri. Maybe the Doctor's not coming, after all. Can't say we didn't try, though.'

-----------------------------

The green light illuminated the entire chamber, the brightness so vibrant that every occupant, including the caster, himself, found they had to shield their eyes from the intensity of it.

There was an echoing 'Bang!', loud enough to shatter eardrums …

And then silence.

A thick and choking build up of dust slowly thinned out, fluttering away into nothingness, leaving a stunned and unmoving stillness to drape like a veil over the entire chamber.

For the sight before them all was one that needed a certain level of comprehension to alight within their heads. A comprehension that, right now, none of them possessed.

But that was about to change.

The realisation had finally clicked.

There was Jack.

Lying face-down, before them.

Motionless.

A fallen warrior, crumpled, his whiter than white hands splayed out just above his head in his vain attempts to draw in the full attack, to save those around him. One knee was bent beneath his broken body at an oddly out-of-place angle. But other than that … there was nothing.

Not a mark littered his ghostly pale skin. Not a cut, not a bruise, not a scratch.

Nothing.

And he'd be like it forever.

For he was quite dead.

'Nothing' may have marked his perfect skin. But 'nothing' also glistened within his once sparkling eyes. They held no sign of life.

They were empty.

Completely, and utterly empty.

And with that knowledge came the realisation.

It finally clicked.

An inhuman, screeching chorus at last erupted as the past few moments fully registered within the many numbed-by-shock minds of the Order.

Luna, Neville, Tonks and Lupin were the first to snap out of the mortified trance. They were the first to react.

They were the first to accept the truth.

Their new friend. The stranger. The captive.

He was dead.

They had failed.

As a satisfied evil laugh fluttered over towards them from the doorway, four pairs of legs gave out beneath their owners, and four friends hit the deck hard beside the fallen form of Captain Jack Harkness.

As one, each screamed out.

A scream of denial. A scream of sorrow and hatred.

A scream of failure.

"No!"

Wormtail sighed heavily, staring at the unrolling mass of killer snake that was gently hissing to itself beside him. Heat radiated out from the blazing fireplace of Riddle House. The broken and boarded doors and windows left little light to illuminate the amalgam of dust and years' worth of neglect that had settled within the old room.

How he despised that snake.

That creature was …

Well, he didn't know what the Hell it was, to be honest.

It was just …

Evil …

'But then, pets take on the personality of their Masters,' he reasoned to himself, grimly.

Nagini's head suddenly perked up, those intensely burning eyes of hers focussed unsmilingly upon his face.

Almost as though she knew exactly what he was thinking …

Wormtail shivered.

But a thought struck him, halting the movement immediately.

A thought that allowed a tiny smile to spread ever-so-carefully over his lined, rat-like features.

A smile of chance.

His Master was in another location entirely.

…

He could have done it and legged it way before Voldemort found out …

As Nagini recoiled, her head sinking back down onto the moth-eaten, aged rug, Wormtail clambered almost unseeingly to his feet.

His mind made up, the Animagus shuffled warily forwards, a strangely malicious glint sparkling within his ever-staring eyes.

And his silver and outstretched hand glistened threateningly in the firelight, dancing flames sparking upon it like fireflies around the darkened room, as it extended soundlessly towards the sleeping creature, lying oblivious upon the hearth.

"Well, no time like the present, let's get straight to business," the Doctor declared cheerily, gently massaging his head for a moment before throwing himself down into a newly conjured armchair that had been accompanied by a loud and echoing clap of thunder. Death's work, apparently.

The same noise echoed around Harry's head a second time in as many seconds, and the next moment, Death was sitting opposite the Doctor on a large and luxurious black leather sofa, the black-velvet cloak wisping about him as though made of air.

The epitaph of casual and cool.

Quite … out of character, or so Harry would have thought., for the Head of the Underworld.

Shaking his head slightly at the bizarrely unusual sight, Harry crossed the few paces between them and raised his wand, before sinking a second later into his own chair, beside the Doctor.

"A drink, Doctor?"

Harry blinked and stared open-mouthed at him, stumped. Of all the times … ?

"Erm, yeah, alright, why not?"

Harry caught the roguish grin flashed his way from the answerer, and a broad smile flitted across his own face, for a moment.

Yet another clap of thunder reverberated around the strangely brightly lit room. A fire was roaring a second later between them; a beautiful marble-hearth coal fire. The flames licked tantalisingly at Harry's exposed skin, warming up his very soul with such warmth and wonder.

They'd been underground for so long …

"Harry? You alright?"

Harry jumped, startled, and nodded as he spotted the Doctor's look of open concern. He glanced down a moment later to find a glass of a strange, red-coloured liquid enclosed within his hands.

Taking a tentative sip, he discovered it was in fact an incredibly rich and fruity port wine.

One of splendour.

The kind high-ups would drink with business associates after an especially beneficial deal was finalised.

But this was so absurd!

They were drinking with Death! Relaxing! Chatting almost amiably as though they were work buddies!

Harry blinked and looked up as the conversations beside him fluttered completely over his head. He was still trying to take all of this in. It was all so … unreal …

Chris ambled past him, a large bottle of the same blood-red liquid held precariously in his arms.

He, too, seemed quite out of it. Dazed. Amazed. Oblivious to the comings and goings around him.

Perhaps the knowledge that he was almost free was finally starting to sink in.

The man carefully placed the bottle down upon a newly created oak polished table that now sat between Death and the Doctor, a broad smile upon his face, a glazed and joyous look shining like wildfire within his twinkling orbs.

Almost as though he could feel Harry looking, Chris glanced his way, focus snapping back, again. Harry smiled warmly at him, relieved to know that there was hope for their friend and his family, yet. Overjoyed, Chris beamed back, before retreating, leaving through the door through which they had entered mere minutes before, with a courteous bow to his Master.

Harry sighed, a calming sigh that, mixed with the wine, helped to ease his nerves and overworked mind.

If only for a few minutes.

Death, this guy may have been. But he was certainly friendly.

Odd, that.

Harry smiled at the irony.

And then forced his mind to re-engage. He struggled to empty it of the happy thoughts that had suddenly entered his head, the thoughts of millions of freed slaves, and fought to return his attention to the Doctor and Death.

This wasn't the time to dwell on what the future could bring!

He was here for a reason!

He was here for answers!

It seemed, at long last, that he was mere seconds away from receiving them.

And judging by the look of utmost seriousness that had abruptly taken over the Doctor's exhausted-looking face, as he straightened up and fixed his 'acquaintance' with an intensely piercing stare, Harry knew that it was now or never.

Rose shivered.

The air was warm. The atmosphere unbearably stuffy.

And yet she shivered, drawing herself ever deeper into her jacket as she sped up the pace slightly, leading the group ever further through the winding marketplace, her eyes downcast – if only to avoid witnessing the endless auctions and ongoing sales of pure-blood-beings.

It was sick. Horrible. Scarring.

She'd seen more than her fair share of horrors, travelling with the Doctor. But this … well, it was a league one to itself.

No matter how much she wanted to convince herself otherwise, she had no doubt whatsoever that this was the fault of the being they had been searching for from the very beginning.

This was the infamous 'Death'.

A surge of pure, blackened hatred erupted within her chest, piercing her soul angrily. Surely the Doctor was going to do something about this ?!

'Well,' she resolved to herself, as they meandered almost mindlessly through the ongoing stalls, 'if he doesn't, I most certainly will.'

Voldemort's laughter reverberated around the already echoing chamber, chilling blood within pulsing veins … searing very souls until they wanted to leap from their owners chests and run for the Hills by themselves. Not that that was remotely possible, of course …

No. Those souls were just as trapped as the bodies that encased them.

That laugh … it haunted them. Chased them. Ate away at their very beings, cutting through to the core of each and every man and woman standing before him.

This creature had just killed one of his own captives …

All that energy spent on getting Jack into this reality, and it was all for nothing.

And there was no way in Hell they could go up against him. It was pointless. Every single member within that chamber knew damn straight that they'd had it. All those years of fighting … and it had to end like this.

The mad glint within Voldemort's piercing red eyes held no comfort, no mercy. Not a drop. They held hatred. A hatred so dark that they burned with the intensity of it.

In his eyes, these people were an obstacle. The living, breathing Order members littered about his chambers were obstacles to his final goal; World Domination.

And as such, they had to be eliminated. Simple as.

Most had accepted thief fate, it seemed, as he glanced around him, taking in the carnage and wreckage with hardly-suppressed wonder. His 'Demons' lay smouldering upon the polished oak floor. The odd Order member lay sprawled upon the cold, hard ground, or stared up at a nearby wall.

But none moved.

They'd given up. They welcomed death.

And being the gentleman that he was, Voldermort felt it only common courtesy to happily oblige.

In fact, so wrapped up was he with his incessant gloating and smugness, that he never spotted the stirring of movement beneath his feet, as he began to make his way slowly towards Luna and Neville.

Neither paid him heed. They were focussing intently upon Jack.

And suddenly, so was Voldemort.

So was the rest of the room.

For the Late Captain Jack Harkness was rousing.

Teri understood. She had wanted answers, needed to know why she had spent the last ten years alone.

And she'd known why all along.

All along, the answers she'd so desperately needed had been inside her own head.

Tears cascading down her cheeks, she shook her head violently, no longer aware of the pain enforced upon her by the machine that was slowly pulling out her Memories. As pain, understanding and anguish flared within her soul, she screamed out, ten years of loneliness urging her cries on, as she cried for her family.

"NO!"

-----------------------------

"So … where to start?"

Both Harry and the Doctor remained silent, unsure themselves of what to ask first. Death merely watched them intensely over the rim of his glass, sprawled comfortably as he was upon his leather sofa.

Bottling his own desire to know the truth, Harry waited for the Doctor to make the first move.

And was amazed by the question that came out a second later.

"Why can ice statues survive down here for thousands of years without so much as a trickle of water upon their shiny and captivating surfaces?"

The atmosphere had, as he'd wished, broken slightly. Unease was less easy to trace.

Death raised his eyebrows, staring at the Doctor like he had two heads. Harry's mouth was hanging open, and he scratched the top of his head in disbelief.

"Of all the questions …" he murmured, more to himself. But the Doctor shot him a broad and infectious grin, confirming that he'd heard the remark, himself. Shaking his head, Harry grinned back.

Death, who had been momentarily wrong-footed by the absurdity of the Doctor's opening question, cleared his throat and carefully considered what to say.

"Well … the water from the river around them protects them from the heat. It has many properties, and its power can be harnessed in different ways. The most it is used for, though, is the protection and preservation of the ice-sculptures, which stand as a tribute to the generations of ancestors who passed before me. A monument to the Underworld."

The Doctor leaned forwards, frowning.

"But that's not the only thing the liquid's used for."

It wasn't a question.

Harry unknowingly straightened in his seat, staring intently at the suddenly uncomfortable-looking being of Darkness before him. After a long and spiralling hesitation, Death spoke, his voice low and almost regretful.

"It has been known to affect locals," he offered at last, frowning at the Doctor before downing the rest of his glass' contents.

As it happened, neither the Doctor nor Harry seemed particularly surprised by that revelation.

After all, they'd seen what the liquid could do for itself first hand … with Rose and Hermione …

"It creates mutants," Harry almost murmured, glaring. "Those Wolf-creatures … they lived down here, didn't they? They fell in!"

Death considered the blind fury upon Harry's once youthful face, and nodded.

"They did. But by their own terms. Those gardens are for Public use. No damage can be done, the sculptures cannot be moved, so I thought, well why not let others view them? Only … well, slaves are careless. Being down here … well, let's just say they care very little for survival, now. Many a slave vanishes, day after day, and it's quite obvious that one more Wolf has joined the ranks of the rebellion."

The Doctor stared, wide-eyed.

"Rebellion," he said, quietly, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. His head was pounding, now, aching, burning beneath his skull, but he ignored it. "Those creatures … a rebellion? No, it couldn't be …"

Then his eyes snapped up, a look of mild horror upon his face.

"Harry, they weren't trying to attack us, they were trying to warn us! They wanted us to turn back! To leave! Looking like we do, they must have assumed we were slaves!"

Harry frowned.

"But why would they attack us, then? A huge group of them nearly sliced and diced me, Ginny and the Twins, back in that … Weapons store …"

The colour drained from his cheeks. The Doctor was nodding slowly, things beginning to make a hazy sort of sense beneath the burning of his mind.

"Those weapons," Harry whispered, "we thought whoever was down here just collected them." He elaborated at the Doctor's blank expression. "Oh, we meant to tell you but things've been a little crazy. Me and Ginny met the Twins in a Weapons storage area. There was loads of stuff! Knives, daggers, swords, bombs, guns, chains, rope, bricks, pipes, hammers … everything! We wanted to investigate, but a siren went off and those Wolf-things came looking … but you're saying it belongs to them?" he finished, disbelievingly.

Again, the Doctor merely nodded.

"They're forming an alliance against me," Death said at last, almost glumly.

The Doctor's already wavering resolve was rapidly shrinking. There was an incessant ringing in his ears, his wounds were throbbing to the core, irritating and piercing him, constantly demanding that he take notice of them. So suffering as he was, he couldn't quench the wild fury that was now pulsing through his veins.

"Well what do you expect ?!" he demanded, angrily. "You've kidnapped them! Dragged them from their homes, their families, their lives! Or worse, pulled their families down with them! Of course they're gonna fight!"

Death, quickly regaining his own composure, merely shrugged.

"We need them, Doctor. It's as simple as that. We cannot survive without their magic, as well you know."

"Yeah? Well, that's gotta change. And believe me, I will be changing it."

And the Doctor fell silent, glaring at the Head of the Underworld with as much hatred as he could muster.

God … his head …

Grimacing, he shook it, slightly, hoping to calm it down, but as with most migraines he only ended up making it worse.

Harry noticed, but remained silent. Instead, he chose to change the subject. The Doctor was on his last legs, it seemed. They needed to get on with this.

Returning his gaze to their acquaintance, he considered his next question, taking a sip of his wine before pursuing with it.

"So … Look, I need to know about Voldemort's Horcruxes," he started, forced-calmly. Setting the glass down, he stared at Death over the rim of his glasses, almost in a perfect impersonation of Dumbledore. As an act of intimidation, it barely worked, for Death simply leant further back into the sofa, cool and calm once again.

"Oh, you do, do you?" he asked, smugly.

Harry said nothing, sparing a glance for the Doctor, who was rubbing at his eyes while trying to focus upon Death's response.

"Well …" the robed-being stalled, stroking his shadowed chin, playing the great thinker. "It depends on what you want to know about them."

Harry's response was immediate.

"Who is R.A.B and did he destroy the locket before he died?"

Death grinned.

"His initials stand for Regulus Arcturus Black, and he did indeed destroy Slytherin's Locket. Right after retrieving it, it burned. And he burned with it."

Harry's stomach dropped. His already white-with-fatigue complexion paled yet another notch. Ghostly pale fingers gripped ever tighter onto the locket still hidden within the pocket of his jeans, and flames from the fireplace flickered against his jade-green eyes as they widened in horror.

"Sirius' brother?" he less than whispered.

Death nodded, smirking.

"Indeed. Regulus Arcturus Black, 1961 to 1979, the son of Orion Black and his wife and second-cousin Walburga. Allegedly killed by Death Eaters for reasons unknown. Now, perhaps you can see what those 'reasons' really were."

Harry's hands were shaking as they gripped tightly to his chair arms.

"And Sirius never knew …"

"Knew what?" Death asked, curious, completely ignoring the kid's shock and horror. Tactless.

Harry blinked and looked up.

"That Regulus followed in his brother's footsteps. That Sirius' little brother went against his Lord and Master … That he died helping our side," he added, softly.

Death made a small 'o' shape with his mouth, paused, then shrugged.

"Right, well, moving on," he said, briskly, reaching down to refill his glass. "Next question. We don't have all century."

Harry's mouth dropped open in disbelief, but he soon closed it again when the Doctor finally spoke.

His voice was faint, the words almost slurred. Almost.

Anxiety was eating away at Harry's insides, but again he held his tongue. Maybe later …

"What and where are the two remaining Horcruxes?"

A light was shining within the ever-staring red eyes, now. Death looked positively gleeful as his eyes rested on the Doctor's shivering form. Sure, they'd made an alliance, but there was no reason why he couldn't enjoy seeing his enemies suffer … just this once.

Sadistic, some may call it. But in all honesty, Death really didn't care. It was who he was. And he could feel it coming. Death was on his doorstep. Literally. 'The Doctor was on his last legs.

His broad grin filtered through the glass as he raised it to his lips, the image distorted and making his face look out of proportion. Setting it down again, he stared at Harry, thoughtfully.

"Voldemort's snake is the fifth Horcrux, as you rightly surmised. And you'll be happy to know that it is being dealt with at this very moment."

Harry's eyebrows narrowed suspiciously.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his tone low and doubtful.

Death's smile widened.

"You may recall, Harry, a night near the end of your third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A night when you discovered the truth about one Sirius Black. A night when you met the Four Marauders. A night when Peter Pettigrew's life was spared."

Harry's eyes were as round as saucers.

"Nah, you're jesting," he said sceptically, shaking his head.

Death shook his head in response, close to laughing.

"Nope. Peter Pettigrew's life debt is, mere seconds from now, about to be repaid."

"He won't do it," Harry said simply. "He'll bottle it."

Death's laughter echoed eerily around the Chamber, and Harry's curiosity peaked.

"Are you serious? Wormtail is going to destroy one of his Master's Horcruxes?"

Harry didn't want to believe it. There was no way this could all be happening … it was too easy …

Death paused for a moment, an almost glazed look falling across those gleaming scarlet orbs like a veil, before he snapped back to normal, grinning.

"Correction, Wormtail has destroyed one of his Master's Horcruxes, yes."

Harry's heart skipped a beat.

This was so … absurd!

In the space of five minutes, Harry had discovered that two of Voldemort's ex-followers had aided in the destruction of their master … and to top it all off, Harry had just one more Horcrux to find and destroy before going after Voldemort himself.

This was all happening far too quickly.

And what was with the Doctor? Did he not have questions of his own to ask?

As that thought hit him, he glanced once again at the subject of his thoughts and sighed heavily, unsure of what to do. The Doctor was obviously trying to keep quiet. He was trying to finish what they'd set out to do.

Trying to wear that brave mask of his.

But Harry knew better.

The Doctor seemed to notice that he was being watched, though. He blinked and looked up, staring Bambi-wide across to Harry, a look of unimaginable pain glistening within his deep, haunted eyes.

And as their eyes locked, they both knew.

He was dying.

They were rapidly running out of Time.

"The time's up for pleasantries, then?" Death asked, watching the wordless exchange with interest. Harry glared at him, and nodded.

"Yes," he said shortly.

"Well, come on, next question, then!"

What Harry and the Doctor seemed to have forgotten was that he still hadn't told them of the last Horcrux.

And of course, he wasn't one for reminding other people about their own business. If it had slipped their minds, he'd wait it out. That revelation would be a killer.

He couldn't wait.

'Not long, now!'

Feeling anxiety and anticipation swelling up within his chest, butterflies twittering madly within the pit of his stomach, Death blinked and looked up to see Harry glaring at him with unbridled hatred.

And he smiled knowingly.

Harry felt like grabbing that midnight-black cloak and ripping it from those cheery shoulders. He dearly wanted to ram it down Death's throat along with a few poisonous potions, a few of which he could probably buy from outside if he dared to venture out, once again.

And judging by the look upon the Demon's face, Death knew it, too. His smirk widened.

But the Doctor had had enough. Calmness aside, he needed answers. He couldn't cope with this.

"Who has a mind-link with me?" he almost spat as a fresh wave of pain hit his senses, bringing his hands up to scrabble at his hair.

God, it hurt! It hurt so much!

"Now, that, Doctor, I believe you already know for yourself."

The Doctor looked up, pushing away the pain as he stared at the Head of the Underworld with a look of complete and utter disbelief upon his shock-white face.

"But … but it isn't possible," he whispered, hoarsely.

Death merely shrugged.

"Doctor, you know that the only people who could ever have had a direct mind-link with you are those of your own kind. That much is obvious, you've just been too naïve to see it for yourself."

Harry was inexplicably relieved that all three of them were sitting, right now, because had the Doctor been standing, he would surely have collapsed. Not a drop of colour remained within his once rosy cheeks. They had paled beyond comparison as he struggled against whatever was happening to him … but now, he didn't even seem to be breathing.

"A Time Lord ?!" he less than whispered.

Death nodded once, solemnly for a change. His happy-go-lucky attitude had diminished, somewhat.

Which could mean only one thing; this discovery was deathly serious.

"Um, excuse me, but we're looking for the Doctor. You wouldn't happen to know who he is, would you?"

Rose's voice was polite, inviting. She stared at what she supposed was yet another slave with a look that told him she had very little faith that he knew of who she spoke.

Ever anxious, Ginny wanted to chip in her bit, too.

"He's a tall man with brown hair and really cute eyes, and he was with a young man with black hair and green eyes and glasses. Seen them anywhere?"

The wide-eyed slave was about to reply, when another, softer voice jumped the gun.

"Please … are you … Rose?"

Rose jumped, startled. She turned to see a young man standing slightly to the left, behind the slave they had just asked. The slave in question gave them all a look of pure confusion, before shrugging and turning away, hurrying again into the milling crowds, desperate to get away.

But no-one was paying any attention to him, now.

All eyes were focussed upon the newcomer. The man with ashen skin, piercingly blue eyes, and a Victorian-styled outfit that was literally falling to bits

Rose shivered.

"Yes," she said, quietly. "Um, sorry, but … how do you know my name?"

The slave smiled broadly.

"The Doctor speaks of you often," he said, cryptically.

Rose's heart stopped..

"You know him ?!" she breathed, hardly daring to believe it. A broad smile of her own illuminated her tired features, and she felt a sudden desire to leap forwards and hug the strange man. "Oh God, I'm so relieved he's alright! Do you know where he is? Could you take us to him?"

So caught up was she with her relief that she didn't notice the slave's face fall as she said 'alright'. As he knew all too well, the Doctor was far from being alright. But infected by her relief and energy, his smile quickly returned, and he nodded at her, sending squeals of joy flittering out from within her rosy lips.

"And Harry?" Hermione whispered, breathlessly.

The slave nodded again.

"Yes, Harry is with him. They're with my master, discussing matters of Life and Death, I believe. I know not the subject, but I do know that I must hurry home, for I have amazing news to break to my family."

"Where are they?" Rose asked, grinning. The slave smiled warmly back.

"Follow this street and take the next left. It's straight ahead. You can't miss it! A huge archway leads into my Master's house. Your friends are in there."

Rose did run forwards and hug him, this time.

"Oh, thank you!" she squeaked, grinning from ear to ear. Then she pulled away, desperate to carry on. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted the six other beaming faces, and knew that they were all as eager to push on as she was.

Reluctantly, she let her arms drop to her sides once again and stepped back, feeling Hermione's hand squeeze her shoulder. The slave seemed momentarily dazed, but soon recovered.

A genuine beam of happiness illuminated his gaunt, stark-white features.

"Your Doctor really is a remarkable man. He has saved me. He has saved all of us! I'm sorry, but I must get home. My family will be so thrilled! Bless you all, dear Rose. Bless you all. And please thank the Doctor again. I will be forever in his debt!"

And with that, he sent one final smile to each of them, and hurried away, practically skipping through the marketplace until he was consumed by the milling crowds.

Rose, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, the Twins and the Master all stood, staring after the strange but ecstatic man, temporarily stunned.

Then they bolted, hurtling through the marketplace like lightning, never once stopping, somehow managing to swerve all other 'pedestrians' until the looming archway was towering above them.

Five wizards raised their wands as they skidded to a halt directly in front of the impressive ironwork.

It was black. Nothing but a black, seemingly endless hole.

Rose considered it, suddenly unexplainably wary. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. There was an incessant sense of foreboding somewhere at the back of her mind.

But her need to see the Doctor again over-rode her anxiety and caution.

Shaking the persisting feelings away and choosing to ignore all of the warning signs, she nodded once to the others, who nodded back, composed herself, and led the way into the blackness beyond.

'I'm here, Doctor,' she thought happily, reassuring herself. 'I'm here.'

"I can't understand it … they all died! How can it be? I destroyed everything! I had to! It isn't possible that someone survived that!"

Harry felt his insides knot together tightly. 'The Time War.'

But Death was vehemently shaking his head.

"No, Doctor. One survived. A young girl, perhaps seven years of age. You saved her!"

The Doctor looked dazed. His head was pounding unbearably, but he ignored it.

"The child …" he whispered. "But … b-but she died! She died on my ship! She faded away, I saw her!"

Again, Death shook his head. He seemed almost frustrated.

"No, she was pulled back into her mother's Time Ship. The child's mother knew of the dangers around her. She'd had sense. She set her TARDIS to hover a few hundred miles away from the planet in stand-by mode. She also programmed it to pick up her daughter's biochemical trace once the danger had passed. It had been a rough guess. She'd given her planet about two hours to be completely destroyed, thus, two hours later, her daughter 'vanished' from your ship."

The Doctor was speechless. Harry gaped at him, eyes wide and staring, a strange feeling of hope and admiration swelling within his heart for both the man standing stock-still before him, and the young girl, probably miles away, who had risked her life to save the Doctor's.

"So she reconnected the TARDIS to the Time Vortex," the Doctor said, softly, thinking things through. Harry stared at him, confused, but the Doctor seemed oblivious.

Death, however, nodded his agreement.

"Yes, after she pulled you here, your TARDIS fell out of the Time Vortex. That is why you were unable to use it during your brief stay at Hogwarts, yes?"

The Doctor nodded.

"The Time Lady reconnected your ship in the hopes that you could find her. She pulled you from your place in space and time while under torture, I might add," he said, calmly. The Doctor's eyes widened in horror, but Death seemed not to notice, and continued.

"Unbeknownst to her, you soon found yourself wrapped up with the whole 'Lord Voldemort' affair. She doesn't fully understand the implications of her captor. He captured her for experiments, but you were an accident. You're not supposed to be here, in his eyes. You're a complication."

But Death's words were becoming harder and harder to hear. His voice was growing faint, and the buzzing in the Doctor's ears was growing in strength …

He shook his head desperately. He needed to hear this!

But the next words he caught were not those of information.

"You're failing, are you not, Doctor?"

The Doctor blinked and looked up, his eyes unfocused.

"What?" he murmured, holding his head.

"As she dies, the machine to which she is attached to will revert to its primary task. You were supposed to die many minutes ago, Doctor. You may recall from your Fifth Regeneration, a machine that extracts memories … Ahh, I see you do remember it," he added, seeing the Doctor's eyes snap shut in recognition.

He'd thought as much. In all respects, it shouldn't have been a surprise. He'd suspected it since the events out in the No-Place.

But he'd still prayed that he'd been wrong.

And suddenly, everything made sense.

As blackness danced at the corners of his mind, mingling with the pain of his injuries, the pain of the mental attack, and the pain of realisation, the Doctor could only scream as memory after memory was ripped away from him.

"Ouch!"

Ron glanced up in time to see Hermione gripping her wrist, tears of pain welling up in her eyes. Consumed by blackness save for the five balls of light upon five outstretched wands, the others had to stop and retrace their steps to her side.

"Herms, what is it?" he asked, anxiously.

Hermione shook her head and mutely pulled back her sleeve, exposing her arm to the chill and darkness.

And Rose's blood ran cold through her veins, freezing her heart.

Two words were glaring up at them.

Words that both Rose and the Doctor had discovered upon Hermione's arm, back in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts.

Words that, back then, had been written in black ink.

But not anymore.

Now they bled. Two words were formed from angry, bleeding cuts along her right arm.

The image burned into their eyes.

Hermione whimpered as she raised her arm slightly, moving it around weakly to try and ease the pain.

But Rose hardly noticed.

Ginny, the Twins and even the Master huddled closer to Ron and Hermione to read what the worlds said, staring with a sick kind of attraction at the already-healing cuts.

But Rose didn't.

For she already knew what they said.

And what they meant.

"I don't remember doing that," she faintly heard Hermione declare, her voice breaking as pain flittered up and down her arm.

But Rose wasn't listening.

The words were burned into her mind, dripping scarlet blood and scarring Hermione's skin. But they scarred Rose's heart, as well.

Nocens Lupus.

Bad Wolf.

Suddenly unable to think, her mind a blank save for the words ringing non-stop around her head, Rose ran, ignoring the shouts and cries of shock from her friends.

Unsure of where she'd come from, or of where she was headed, Rose ran, sprinting through the darkness, not turning back, not looking around, hardly even breathing.

Her head was pounding, all of a sudden. There was a burning ache within her heart, like something was missing.

And then she felt it.

The TARDIS.

Run, Rose! Hurry!

So Rose ran.

She didn't have a clue how the TARDIS was speaking to her. Nothing made any sense. She didn't care that she'd left five teenage wizards with the Doctor's arch nemesis.

All she could see was the Doctor.

And he was hurting.

Dying.

Her eyes burned within their sockets, and her vision distorted, slightly. The blackness wasn't black anymore. Specks of gold danced around her, teasingly pulling away from her and guiding her through the endless darkness.

And still she ran.

Bad Wolf was back.

She needed to find him.

She needed the Doctor.

Harry's heart plummeted as he watched in horror. The Doctor fell to his knees, sliding from the sofa almost elegantly. His trembling hands tore desperately at his hair, as he finally managed to understand just what was happening to him. Harry's legs dragged him forwards, his body on automatic, and he crouched down beside his fallen friend, his mind blank.

Death, meanwhile, was watching the proceedings with interest, a look of wondrous fascination upon his face.

Knowing that time was running short, he decided that his own morbid fantasies would have to wait. Like it or not, Death needed the Doctor.

So he knelt down beside him, disposing of the table between them with one wave of his hand. A loud crack reverberated around the room, and it vanished from existence. He knelt over the shivering form, one finger pressing gently upon the angry, bleeding wound on the Doctor's neck.

The Doctor gasped in pain and his eyes snapped open, urgent and soulful.

"S-she can't … can't h-hold it!" he forced out, his head slipping to one side, his eyes whizzing around the room, unseeing.

"What?" Harry asked, quickly, undeniably confused.

Death chose to elaborate, knowing full well that the Doctor probably couldn't.

"The Time Lady is attached to a machine that extracts a person's memories, but it is being used for a different reason, this time. Voldemort wanted to pull the Doctor's memories out of her head, inevitably killing him through her. But she fought him. She altered the pull of memories, so that her own were the ones removed. The problem is, as she nears death, her strength fails, and the machine is now returning to complete its primary function. She cannot die, now, as she doesn't have the strength to continue removing her own memories, and the Doctor's are being pulled out, instead."

A hand flew to Harry's mouth, and he had to mentally shake himself to shift the horror from his mind. Instead, he glanced back to the Doctor, trying and failing to hide his fear.

"So the girl's okay, then?"

Death shook his head, the red eyes glinting with an unexpected look of sadness.

"No. Because of their link, once one dies, the other dies too. Her memories may not be extracted anymore, but as soon as his have been removed through her, the residual energy will inevitably pull out her own last remaining memories. If she hadn't already exhausted her mind of most of her own in her attempts to save the Doctor, she may have survived. But as it is, she has not the strength any longer to save herself."

"Oh, my God," Harry murmured, horrified. "Well what can we do?" he demanded, an irrational anger bubbling beneath his skin as he stared off into space. "We have to help them!"

But Death merely shook his head.

"It is too late for anything I could have done," he said, softly.

But that answer wasn't good enough.

Harry's eyes flew to his face, and the anger erupted like a volcano.

"How the Hell can you say that ?!! You knew this was going to happen! You knew all along! Why didn't you warn the Doctor sooner ?!"

Death held up his hands in surrender, glaring back equally hard.

"I said that there is nothing more that I can do. But then again, it isn't me that matters, right now! I needed you to remain here so that the one person who could help the Doctor had time to arrive! I knew she was coming!"

"So … all of that stalling … that's all it was? You were buying time ?!" Harry's eyes were narrowed slits. "I can't believe this. If he dies, it'll be on your head!" he shouted.

"Ahh," replied Death, grinning, "but that suggests he's going to die, doesn't it?"

Harry didn't know what to say. He glanced momentarily at the Doctor, who's eyes were jammed tightly shut as he struggled against the onslaught of pain. Sweat glistened against his white skin, the red marks of his injuries standing out with ghastly clarity.

"Okay then, so who's this person? Who's gonna help him?" he asked, finally, his voice shaking slightly.

Death didn't answer him.

Instead, his eyes glazed over, and his misted gaze lifted to the doorway of blackness behind Harry. The one through which he and the Doctor had arrived.

Curious, Harry looked up as well, turning on his knees slightly so he could see whatever it was that had caught Death's attention.

But one word made him stop, mid-movement.

"Me," said a soft, ethereal voice, its underlying tone being one Harry instantly recognised.

Not sure he really wanted to see who or what was standing in the doorway, Harry turned around fully, stumbling slightly to his feet as his eyes widened beyond their limits. His jaw dropped at the sight.

Rose Tyler was standing beneath the archway.

A back-drop of intense, starless blackness provided an unimaginable contrast to the glowing gold of her eyes. Her long, blonde and flowing hair fluttered around her head, caught in an invisible wind.

Her features were illuminated, her face angelic.

But she wasn't Rose Tyler.

Not anymore.

Oops. Evil cliffie, huh?

Sorry. (Grins evilly)

Another massive thanks for reading! You guys really are amazing!

Stuck with me? May my Goddess bless you eternally with much happiness, health and a whole lotta wealth. Maybe you'll have more luck with that prospect than I …?

Anywho, thanks again! I'll update again as soon as I can! Promise on pain of Death!

Huge hugs to all of ya!
xXx MissHaunted MoonLight xXx