A/N: There's a fair bit of scene changing in this chapter, sorry if it gets annoying/confusing. And it seems as if my chapters keep getting longer on a more regular basis. Sorry it took so long to update, life seems to be creeping up on me more and more. Work has some pretty weird ideas on security and I'm getting more shifts which equals more money…but also equals less time to write… And you guys rock by the way. I've never gotten so many reviews for one chapter! And you all made me grin and beam at my computer, which convince my mum I was going insane.

Thanks to everyone who answered my question about Blaise Zabini. Everyone agreed on him being at least related to someone Italian, due to his name, which I thought might be the case, since most fics have him down as such. There was only one person who suggested otherwise, so I thought I might just twist and mould him as I see fit, since there is so little to know about him. I'm gonna just make his mum Italian, so he has her surname, his biological father African, and the first father he knew French. Of course, we all know that his step fathers tend to die an awful lot… So, thank you to you all for your kind help!

Also, anyone who helped will be named and thanked when I post the fic, which could be soon, possibly after I post this. Only, I can't decide whether or not to have it all as one fic, or a series as I work through Harry's seven years of school…I'm leaning towards one, because then I can't forget to update….

Ah, and so now we get to where Harry's resolve snaps…

Chapter Eighteen—The Consequences Of Actions

Harry stepped through the door and back into the circular room the Room of Requirement had created for him. When the door closed, he slipped the Nexus Blade back into its sheath, all his strength leaving him suddenly. With a sob he sank to the ground, onto his hands and knees as he fought down the sudden panic that was overwhelming him. He was an Assassin, damnit! He could handle one foolish Mage and one stupid Gryffindor!

"Harry?"

His head snapped up to see Mere cautiously approaching him. When she saw the pain in his eyes she crouched down beside him. "I would have thought Tom would refuse to let you return…"

"He did." Harry's voice was strangely flat. "Merrick obliviated him. Told him I was injured in Quidditch."

She frowned, anger and annoyance flashing in amber eyes. "Harry, I don't think we, or you for that matter, can do all this anymore. Why won't the Council let us leave?" She watched as he stood and turned back to the Exitus Door, his hand laying on the wood as it morphed into a half Dead Wood and Holy door. "Harry?"

"Don't. I'm going to the Angels and Demons, and I'm getting them to revoke their orders. We're going to finish this. But it's about time that Durmstrang was allowed to fight back."

"Harry, please, tell me what happened."

He looked up at her, a fire blazing in his emerald eyes. "Dumbledore wants our allegiance before Christmas, or he declares the Guilds on the side of the Dark."

"But the Council is supporting the Dark."

"Yes, but it doesn't mean we're on that side. It just means that we aren't going to cause them so much trouble in the long run." He sighed and shook his head. "But Dumbledore can make life hell for anyone associated with the Guilds. Healers, Mages, Masters, Courtesans all of them will loose jobs and any social standings they've gained. Assassins and Spies aren't going to care; they're not likely to find us. The Angels, Demons, Vampires and Werefolk don't need to worry cause no one wants us around anyway, do they? And the Wichards won't even be touched…"

She blinked. "Oh. But how can we be sure of what he's planning? He's manipulative, we know that, and he could have found the Twins."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You. Lonah is well known as your cousin and the one who turned you. If you were to tell him that Grey Shadow was going to be attacking an Order member…"

"He might let me in as his own spy. Harry, that's brilliant!"

He gave her a strained smile. "I'm going to get us permission to fight back. I should be back in under an hour. Keep them safe, Mere."

"I will, Harry."

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Kely stretched languidly, her blue eyes closing in content as her white wings wrapped her in soft feathers. She ignored the childish bickering of Gabriel, Corsis and Haren as they argued over the merits of white or milk chocolate. Her eyes snapped back open though, as the Exitus Door installed in one side of the large room banged open and let a furious Harry Evans in.

His eyes were blazing, his aura whipping around him as magic leaked from the cracks in his shields, and the large, far larger than her own, wings flared around him like robes of blood. "Harry?"

The emerald orbs focused on her and narrowed immediately. "Take it back."

Gabriel blinked. "Take what back? We didn't do anything."

"The order not to fight back. Let us defend ourselves."

Corsis raised an eyebrow, his red eyes laughing. "And why should we? You'll just end up killing someone."

Kely gasped as a flicker of sadness danced across Harry's face. "Oh my lord…it's killing you!" She jumped up and was across the room before Harry had a chance to react. Her wings curved and deflected the defensive attack of his magic as she stopped before him. "I never thought…the Hecatamae never explained it all…"

Harry frowned. "I was raped, by a wizard, who is not my mate!" He shuddered. "I couldn't fight back, and his own magic tainted me, even as I marked him. Not fighting, not protecting my pack, and what my Hecatamus blood considers a part of my clan, is seeping strength from me. I either fight, or you find someone else to spy on Bumbledore."

Gabriel tipped his head to the side, his grey eyes thoughtful as they swept over Harry's form. " Just how much is this harming you?"

Harry clenched his jaw. "I can't show you."

Haren narrowed his eyes, standing up from his seat on the floor. "And why not? You are demanding something from us that--."

"That shouldn't have been taken in the first place." Kely closed her eyes, one pale hand rising and reaching out to Harry. He hesitantly allowed her to touch his cheek. "It's okay Harry. We can keep your Core from overloading you, but please, just show us what our own decision has done."

Emerald eyes flared, glowing like a beacon as he tipped his head forward and the raven black strands of his hair shadowed his face. His body trembled, even as pure silver magic wrapped carefully around him. He whimpered in pain as he opened his shields just a little, just enough for them to see the odd gaping wound that appeared over his heart. It was like looking into a small abyss, one that was struggling to close itself and heal.

"Lucifer…you have a hole in your chest, you know that, right?"

Harry glared at Corsis. "No duh, I just don't pay attention to it."

"Why is it there?" Kely cocked her head to the side in curiosity. "I don't remember hearing about anything like this."

"You wouldn't have, our people were always so reclusive."

Harry looked up, surprised to see the exact same Hecatama from his…death experience. He blinked. "Are you Balance?"

She smiled at him. "Yes. I am Balance."

"I uphold…you?"

Her smile broke into a grin. "Yes, I suppose you do. But I am only known as Balance now. Once I was Balanqa."

"Which means Balance anyway."

Balanqa walked forward, almost seeming to glide. Her wings unfolded and without realising it, Harry walked forward until they close around him. Her voice was soft in his ear as she held him close. "Do not fear, Little One. We will repair this damage, both to your own being and to this world. It is our one promise from birth to death. Only a Hecatamae has the power to change whole worlds."

"You say that as if there were other worlds." His voice was muffled as his cheek lay against her shoulder. He was comfortable, and felt almost as if he was being held by his own mother.

"And who says there isn't? We may have all died out, Harry, but we left our mark on more than just this world." She pulled back and looked at him. "But that is for another day!"

Kely shifted slightly. She had always heard the voices of Balance and Fate, had known that they were once Hecatamae. She had been told, only two centuries ago, by two Hecatama that they were the only Deities left they were willing to honour, and they upheld what they stood for. "Are you truly Balance?"

Balanqa smiled softly. "Yes, Kely." She glanced at Gabriel and Corsis who were busy staring at her. "Falanqa would have come along, but she has business to attend to elsewhere." She raised an eyebrow at Haren who blinked back at her. "For now, I am here because Harry needs all that I can give him. And he deserves his freedom."

"From the decision we made."

"A decision that was made despite our protests."

Haren flinched. "We didn't see it as necessary to allow dangerous individuals that much freedom."

"And now you see why we suggested otherwise."

"We were going to revoke it." Gabriel sighed. "You just sort of came in before we could discuss it."

"It needs no discussion." Balanqa's blue eyes flashed angrily. "The decision is revoked. There is no room for argument and no reason for it. The Durmstrang students have been light hearted about this transfer, but Dumbledore's decision are costing them valuable time in which they could be furthering their studies. We much prefer their system to the English one."

Harry blinked. He hadn't expected it to be so easy…

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Harry frowned as he stepped into the Room of Requirement, emerald eyes sweeping over the sixty…students. His frown deepened when he noticed the anxious glances and the hardened mouths of the sixth years. Sighing mentally, he shook off any remaining anger and walked further forward, eyes meeting the worried amber of Mere's eyes. He nodded to her and she relaxed slightly, only to tense up again. Harry wondered what had happened in the half hour or so since he'd seen her last.

Perhaps someone has been harmed? Tom's voice drifted into his mind, still sounding unsteady. He was really quite ready to just kill Merrick.

Clearing his throat, his voice rang out clear through the room, the lilting accent just a little more pronounced than usual. "What's happened here?"

One of the sixth years, a Prefect named Lucial Marnah, one of his pack, stepped forward. "Joanne and Kimba haven't turned up yet."

He frowned. "This class should have been going for at least twenty minutes by now…where's Remus and my mother?"

"They went to look for them." Mere walked over to him. "Harry, we found these by the entry to the dungeons." She handed him a pair of silver bracelets, a glittering blue gem winking up at him from within the flat metal.

He looked up sharply. "They never go anywhere without these. No one does."

Hermione blinked in confusion. She'd arrived at the appropriate time, even after knowing Harry would not arrive for some time, and watched as Remus instructed the students in the proper casting of a complicated shield spell, one that was designed to work off of any offensive spells that came anywhere near the caster. Of course, none of the ones they were learning about would stop a Killing Curse, and she'd asked whether or not there really was a spell to do so. A couple of fifth years had whispered something about the usefulness of Hecatamae to her, apparently they were able to manipulate the spell itself and make it as harmless as a poorly cast stupefy.

She'd watched as the minutes ticked by and the students grew steadily more and more worried. She'd had no idea that none of them ever missed the lessons, and had been surprised when Mere had surrounded walked from the bare wall at the back of the room, which she was sure contained no door, frowning worriedly, only to glance around and swear before taking off again. Remus and Lily had left shortly after glancing at a silver bracelet on their wrists; one which she noticed was on every Durmstrang students wrist. She was curious as to what they actually were for.

Darren suddenly stiffened beside her, at the same time as Harry, Mere and six other students. Harry spun and suddenly black fur crept over his skin and he was dropping to the ground, fully transformed into a medium sized blue-black wolf. Emerald gold eyes shined brightly as he tipped his head back and gave a chilling howl. She jerked and took an involuntary step backwards, eyes wide with fright. She jerked when the warm wash of magic moved over her head, a calming purple colour. "What?"

Darren blinked. "It's okay, Hermione, that was just a simple spell, like a Fidelius Charm for people. And the whole Harry-turning-into-a-wolf-thing…he does that a lot."

"What? Why would you do that?" She turned accusing eyes onto Darren, who simply shrugged, partially relieved that she seemed to of ignored the other half of his answer.

"It's necessary now. You can't tell a soul what you have seen, or will see in relation to any of us."

The wolf turned its head and looked steadily at her, before glancing out the door again. Seeming to come to a decision, he pressed his muzzle into Mere's hand and gold fur, with black spots, appeared over her skin. She seemed to shrink and lengthen all at once, and where the tall blonde had once stood, now a sleek leopard blinked. The leopard snarled, the door to the room opened and she bounded through, loping easily down the corridor. The wolf padded softly over to her, even as she backed away, a very real fear gripping her heat in an icy hold.

"Please, don't hurt me." She might have known it was Harry, but werewolves were dangerous folk.

The fur receded and Harry stood back up, the gold thinning to a line around his irises. "I'm not going to hurt you, Mione. I never meant for you to see that, and I'm sorry you had to."

"What are you? Werewolves cannot change outside of the full moon, and never at will!"

He cocked his head to the side and she glimpsed impatience in his eyes. "It's close enough to the full moon to affect any of the werefolk. I'm not just a werewolf, but I'm guessing you already figured out that there was something different about me, didn't you?"

"Yes," she swallowed. "You never use a wand, and wandless magic takes a great deal of power. I saw, the other day, you picked a wand up and Weasley dared you to cast a spell, but you didn't. You couldn't, could you?"

"No. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on the way you look at it, what I am means that no wand will ever work in my hands. A wand to you is an easy way to access the magic within yourself, in your Core. A wand to me is little more than a fancy stick. It's not an outlet, because it uses your own Inner Magic, and mine is dangerous to me and to others. For that reason, and many others, I use outside magic, that which is all around us, to cast spells."

She blinked, and then she gasped, looking up at him in awe. Her mind worked furiously through the facts he'd supplied, and come to only one conclusion. "Hecatamae."

"Yes." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was then she noticed his attire.

Dressed in a hooded tunic that reached mid thigh, with a piece of material hanging about his neck, along with a black sash which held an empty shiny black sheath. She blinked again and could have sworn she caught sight of some kind of emblem upon his chest, over his heart. But it was gone and she couldn't be sure of what she'd seen.

"Unfortunately, I must cut this short. I need to find Joanne and Kimba. What I need from you, is your help. While I could ask Hogwarts, and believe me I tried to, it seems I'll need to find them on my own and I cannot waste time trying to explain the intricacies of my odd hybridism. They could be hurt, and I'm going to need you to show us where someone is more likely to take them, somewhere empty where no one could hear them."

"What makes you think they were taken?"

"The bracelets." He opened his hand, magic swirling a moment before the two bracelets vanished from the ground and reappeared on his palm. "We each wear these, the gem is reflective of our aura colours. These two, are a very rare and much sought after type of magical twin. It means that they share access to their Cores, making them twice as strong and incredibly efficient on the battlefield. The British Ministry has already asked their parents for their aid, and been refused, because they're being considered for an apprenticeship to a Master of Necromancy." He raised a hand when she started to speak. "I know that Necromancy is both illegal and frowned upon here, but it's a form of magic and incredibly useful."

He looked back at the door, which was now closed. "Mere has gone to see if she can locate my mother and Remus. I need you to come with us, help us find the most likely spot."

"Can't you just sniff them out?"

He shook his head. "Normally, yes, but there's a strong, and very old, spell at play that masks a persons scent. More than likely the Founders placed it, and I cannot tamper with that." His eyes turned desperate and pleading. "Please, Mione. I can't simply let them be harmed. I may have my own pack, but I swore to protect everyone here."

She bit her lip and nodded hesitantly. Her eyes widened as he slipped back into his wolf form, trotting over to a group of five students. One by one he touched his nose to their hands and they were turned into some form of Were. Darren was shaggy coated black and tan coloured wolf, Marci became a small white fox with a brown stripe down the fluffy tail, Karl was a steel grey coloured wolf with black paws, Lucial became a dark gold leopard, and a fifth year named Markus Albearth was a lithe black and white tiger.

They were an odd looking pack and Hermione couldn't help the way her eyes blinked in confusion and her mouth opened in disbelief. "Okay. You are the weirdest looking pack. Ever."

Harry snorted, his emerald gold eyes closing a moment. When they opened, he whined and made his way to the door. Darren slipped over to her, nudging at the small of her back. She hesitantly followed them out the door, wanting nothing more than to stay in the Room of Requirement. But she counted Harry as a friend, and what sort of friend would she be if she didn't help him?

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Phanta didn't like this. Oh no, she knew this was bad, very very bad. She looked down the hall. Empty, dusty, unused, unloved. She felt for Hogwarts, felt the way she thrummed in pain. She stretched her wings and took off from the ugly gargoyle statue she'd perched on. Wrong, everything here was wrong. The way the Old Bearded One watched her Master, the way the Carrot Headed One had hurt her Master and not been punished, the way the Little Lions cursed the Durmstrang children, the way she could not stay with her Master. It was all wrong.

There was no moonlight down here, and her tiny silver body glowed bright in the murky darkness. Her onyx eyes flicked around, her beautiful, shiny, gossamer wings beating steadily through the air, disturbing decades of dust. The stones were cold, tired, lonely. Wrong. Her tail whipped out behind her, tapping a sleeping portrait. The lion within roared silently. It went back to sleep again. Wrong.

Wrong. All so, so wrong. Why did no one care for this beautiful, living, breathing castle? Wrong, wrong, wrong. Footsteps and scuff marks in the decades of dust. Those people didn't care for cleaning. Only one spell! One spell and the floor would be beautiful, cold, and well loved again. Only for a moment though. Wrong. Stupid people who step without cleaning, and drag others with them…

She shrieked and sped down the corridor. Footsteps and scuff marks! Missing students! No, no, no! Why would they be here? With ones who smelled like Carrot Head? Why would they not be with her Master? Why here? Why? What was happening?

She turned a corner and barrelled into a solid, yet soft, like flesh, form. She ducked as a hand grabbed at her, she saw! Oh, she saw! The Twins! The Twins! No! Her Master had to know! She shrieked, high and piercing, and the Carrot Headed One clapped stupid pale hands over his big stupid ears. There was another, and another, and another. They bore the mark of her Master! Attackers! Rapists!

A blast of pure silver magic rippled from her. Oh, they pay! They pay! Her Master would get them, curse them, make them pay for their actions!

Oh, but the Twins. Tiny little sixteen cycle children. She landed beside them, cooing and hissing, her tail lashing, but they did not move. The Healer! The Healer could fix them, make them move and grin and bat at her. But where were their familiars? Why would they leave?

She shrieked again, lower, searching. The Carrot Headed One raised his wand. She hissed in anger, but two tigers suddenly sprinted from the shadows. Snarling, angry, orange and black tigers. She cooed and climbed on top of the chest of the female Twin, watching in pleasure and joy as the stupid Carrot Headed One ran.

Running!

No! Her Master needed to exact payment! She leaped into the air, shooting passed worried cats, past their heads and around the corner. She hissed and shrieked again, she called to her Master, even as they fell in agony.

She'd always liked the way her shrieking caused others agony. Almost as good as stealing their food.

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As they left yet another deserted and dusty corridor, Hermione cast a nervous glance at the rumbling Weretiger beside her. All of them were uneasy, and the fact that they couldn't find the missing students was beginning to show. Remus and Lily had joined them only a short time ago, led to where they were by the golden form of Mere. Remus' silver coat glowed in the shadows, like his angry amber eyes. Lily was darting around them all in the form of a small ginger haired cat, her animagus form.

Harry stiffened, pausing with one paw hovering over the ground. He growled suddenly and took over, loping easily over the ground. The other eight followed and Hermione sighed. Looking around, even though she really didn't need to, since it was deserted after all, she closed her eyes and focused. The magic crawled over her skin, and she winced as her bones cracked and shifted around inside her skin. She shrank and sprouted soft feathers. Her eyes opened and the world came into sharp focus, every detail laid out for her eyes to see. Hermione opened white and brown wings, pushing off the floor and flapping franticly. She could still hear the movements of the pack, and she took off after them.

Harry growled, even as he slid around the corner, sending up thick clouds of dust and dirt. His eyes glowed and focused on the frantic form of Phanta, who had her head cocked back, a high-pitched shrieking echoing around the corridor. He winced and barked at her, but his eyes landed on the bright orange hair of Ron Weasley.

Phanta hissed angrily, "They harm the Twins! Master, they bear your mark, they hurt you!"

Harry crept forward, aware that his mother's ginger cat form had streaked past and around yet another corner. Markus and Lucial followed, snarling at the trembling wizards who lay on the floor, right where they belonged. He growled, pulling his lips back and bearing the sharp white fangs. Ron's eyes widened at the sight and he scrabbled backwards, hand shooting out and searching behind him for his wand. Which conveniently lay three metres away. Phanta hissed and scooped it up, hovering over his head and tempting him with the wooden stick.

"D-d-don't h-h-hurt m-m-me!"

Harry snarled. He was in no mood to listen to the pathetic pleading of a wizard. His Hecatamus half shrieked, demanding retribution in the form of the dead body of the cowardly teen. But Harry had a better idea. Oh, he was going to kill Ron, but he was going to make him terrified first. And he refused to murder in a school full of young children already terrified of this war.

Growling, he flicked his tail to the side, a sudden stream of small black spiders crawling out of the stone walls and creeping over to the now screeching wizard. He rumbled in pleasure, slipping past and padding around the corner.

"Oh, god. Marci!"

Harry stepped to the side as a white blur shot past him, skidding to a stop by the prone forms of Joanne and Kimba. Pale gold eyes were turned on him, and he lowered his muzzle down to touch the small snout that quivered beneath him. In an instant Marci slid smoothly into her human form, hands instantly moving, her wand gripped tightly. He blinked and looked up as a brown and white owl landed on the floor, changing into a grimacing Hermione.

"Oh no."

Harry snorted again, fur receding into his skin and clothes, the change meaning that the others would revert as well. At least they could keep the four wizards under control better this way.

Marci leaned back on her heels, eyes tired and drawn. "They suffered magical overloads. Someone kept casting spells on them, and with no wand they would have had to use wandless magic to defend themselves. Other than a broken leg, wrist, a few ribs and more than a dozen lacerations, and bruises, they should be okay in a day or so." She looked to the pacing form of Remus, feeling sorry that he couldn't change back yet. He wasn't tied to Harry's magic as much as they were. "Harry?"

"What?" He looked down at her, eyes blazing with anger. Phanta cooed from where she was now perched on his shoulder, four wands gripped in her talons.

"Can you please change Remus back?"

He blinked, looking at the silver wolf as if it was the first time he'd noticed him. "Oh. Sorry." A flick of his wrist and Remus stood up, amber eyes narrowed.

"How dare they?!"

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Dumbledore was quite happily enjoying a glass of Ogden's Finest, and a bowl of delicious lemon drops, with a few sherbets thrown in for good measure. He sighed in content and leaned back in his chair, blue eyes landing on the four empty portraits. He still didn't understand how the Founders could have possibly left them, no search turned up with any clue as to the whereabouts of more portraits. But that was truly the only thing that was going wrong. His plans were falling into place and soon he would rid Britain of Harry Evans.

He wondered if the poor hybrid even knew of the fate awaiting him?

The Council envoy, the Healer, hadn't made even one noise of complaint so far over his actions, and the Council themselves were far too disillusioned at the moment. He was going to have to show them that the Light was the only side for them. There was no room for a Neutral stance, and surely they would not be so stupid as to believe he wouldn't carry out his threat. Granted, the meeting had been remarkably shorter than he'd imagined, but he had been to the point and they knew of his views on their inaction. But why had that Assassin, what was his name? Ah, yes, Grey Shadow. Why had he reacted so strongly when he'd claimed that the rape of Harry Evans had, in fact, been consensual sex?

He realised that the Assassin was obviously some form of Elemental, which meant he was descended from a Hecatamae, but he wasn't overly worried. Normal spells would work on him if he ever presented a problem, granted those spells would have to be strong if they were to even get near him. Perhaps, he knew Harry? If that was so, then he could use that to his advantage. All he'd have to do, would be to contact Grey and spin a story about his friend, thus turning the talented Assassin against the Hecatamus and gaining the Light another weapon to use in the war.

He needed another weapon, one that wasn't so experienced in dealing with him as Daniel was. The boy was beginning to rebel against him, even going so far as to say he'd rather stay out of the war. And Dumbledore knew that he could only claim his place in the war, as based on the prophecy, only so long. Someone was bound to find out about the nullification of that prophecy. Severus had told him that Voldemort was in love, but that he had never seen the person who stood so close to the Dark Lord. If he could find that…wizard, it had to be a wizard because Voldemort had never shown an interest in females, had he?

If he could find this wizard, then he could use them to make Voldemort angry, therefore causing him to make a mistake, one that could spell his end.

But then again…Voldemort was powerful, most likely one of the most powerful wizards in today's world…

Frowning, he reached over and grabbed at the book lying in his desk. The leather cover was faded and tattered, but one could still see the words etched into it : Semo ellyis karet werao. He had next to know idea as to what it said, as it was one of the few journals of the Hecatamae Shamans that had been written in Olde English, which was easy to translate, but the cover, and several words within were in the Hecatamae's own language. Nothing could translate that.

A Hecatamae, when their Mate is one of the Locked Cores, those who call themselves, wizards and witches, will seek out the strongest of their kind. It matters not to us as to what their gender is, for it is their Majickal Compatibility that we care for. Most usually, they will have a larger than normal Core, which is, for reasons unknown to us, partially Unlocked. This allows them better access to their Inner Majick, and makes them far more powerful.

Once a Hecatamae has found their Mate, they will weave their own Majicks about them, ensuring their safety from any Wizarding Majicks. But, as we are beginning to see, when this occurs, the same spells that we are unable to fight against, can weaken the Shield, thereby harming the Hecatamae.

Hecatamae, will only seek the most Majickly capable, as the Link which forms allows the Mate to help heal any cracks or fractures which may appear in our Core Shields. We are, majickly speaking, incapable of Bonding with anyone who is average, or lower, as our own majick will overwhelm them.

A particularly powerful Hecatamae, most likely one descended from the families of Death and Time, Balance and Fate, will seek out the most powerful majick user of their particular time period.

He tapped one gnarled finger against his chin, frowning down at the text. He flipped the page and stared down at the image that had been drawn there. Picking his wand up, he silently, and begrudgingly, admitted that the Hecatamae were good when it came to magic, before tapping the page. Instantly his office changed and became a forest and he could see a man standing there, or, to be more precise, an Hecatamus.

The Hecatamus had flowing, true black hair, and wings that must've spanned over twenty feet, and was casting an impenetrable shadow over the land about him. His aura was pure black, interspersed with a soft charcoal grey and blood red; it flared around him and seemed to make the world still. Of course, this was merely a holographic image, but, just as Wizarding photos moved with their own personality, Hecatamae images showed what had been going on while it was being drawn.

The Hecatamus turned, his dragon like wings flaring, before folding against his back. His eyes held no white and were a pure, fathomless black void. There was no way of telling just where he was looking, but Dumbledore soon felt he knew. There was a large gathering, a short way away, of what seemed to be one of the Hecatamae Clans. In the centre, stood an Hecatama, who beamed at her family, her hand being held loosely by a well dressed wizard.

Dumbledore frowned, watching as each member of the Clan, some of whom were also wizards and witches, touched the man lightly on the head, a small flicker of their magic remaining.

The image faded, and he watched as the Hecatamus he'd first seen vanished in a wisp of mist. Frowning, he rubbed his hand over his eyes tiredly. He was fairly certain now, that Harry was perhaps bonded to Voldemort, which created a problem all on its own. If Voldemort was truly the Mate of an Hecatamus, and they had bonded, then it meant that the Dark Lord was only a wizard by birth. His Core would have expanded almost to the size and power of an Hecatamus, and he would most likely be able to sense and use External Magic.

At least he would still need to use a wand to cast spells.

He hummed as he lifted his glass and swallowed, letting the drink burn on its way down. Just as he was reaching for a lemon sherbet, the walls of his office shook, on odd thumping echoing up the spiral staircase and through the closed door. Another shake and he heard something crack. A boom and he was beginning to get worried.

"DUMBLEDORE!!"

He frowned, wondering who would be at his office and so upset, and pointed his wand at one of the silver mirrors arranged about the room. The reflective surface shimmered before clearing and showing him the gargoyle guardian for his office.

Standing there, with emerald eyes blazing and aura whipping about, was Harry Evans.

A/N: Okay so the chapter has been, well, cut a little. It was getting way too long, so here's a cliff hanger! The next part will be in the next chapter, promise.

On another note, I realise I had Remus transform into a wolf as well as Harry and his pack. Just so you all know, the full moon is precisely three days away (which means three chapters), so their Were halves are all closer to the surface than they normally would be. Harry is able to control the influence of the moon on his pack to a certain degree, which leads to him being able to push a transformation prematurely. As for Remus, his wolf half was furious that a child, who he considers a 'cub' to be looked after, could be harmed in a place meant for safe education, so he transformed himself. Lily went with him to try and keep him rational. Harry's ability to manipulate magic within structures and people allowed him to change Remus back.

And, I don't know about you guys, but I missed Phanta…so, I gave her the part in which the twins were found. I think it went quite well…