DISCLAIMER: I don't own harry potter

When Hunting Monsters

Chapter 8: Mirror Mirror on the Wall

The cabin was in the least to say, overcrowded. It's none to spacious walls of timber resonated with the sound of voices that joined the thudding of boots along with howling of wind as the door was thrown open and a few more people in the garbs of robes, hooded cloaks, and pointed hats stumbled in out of the fierce weather.

The cabin was split into two sections, one larger and one smaller which were each split into their own two sections. The larger of the larger two sections was a living area and a kitchen, and the smaller was a bedroom and a bathroom. The few chairs at the table in the kitchen area of the larger section were occupied save one, and the remainder of visitors in the small dwelling were standing against the walls, or leaning against the sink in the case of Charlus Mckennon, whose tall form was stooped as to prevent his head topped with short brown hair from hitting the low ceiling. He was the sole surviving member of the Mckennon clan which had been wiped out during the First War, and had grown up in America among relatives since he was eight out of necessity. Thomas had decided to join the British hit-wizards instead of the American ones when he had heard rumors of Voldemort's return a few years ago and had been living on the isle since shortly after the Dark Lord's rebirth. Just a few weeks ago, at the start of the Summer, Tonks who he recently gotten to know better as more and more often the hit wizards and aurors were being assigned to same assignments, brought him into contact with Moody, and the rest of the Order had welcomed him warmly. Dumbledore especially had found him quite useful. Since his induction the old wizard had been using Mckennon to track down wizards and witches he thought might know the locations of horcruxes or possess memories of Voldemort's past, without really telling the hit wizard about the horrific objects. He'd only give him a name and Mckennon would bring the person to him so Dumbledore could look through his or her mind, then obliviate them and send them on their way. He'd found Gaunt's ring in such a manner, and many memories that turned out to be very significant.

The murmuring and whispers of gossip and rumors ceased as the door was thrown open yet again, and the tall white bearded Albus Dumbledore came to find his place at the table next to Remus Lupin, the owner of the cabin. Dumbledore bore a grim look on his old wizened face, as his blue eyes travelled across the room, taking in the occupants all staring at him expectantly. These few brave or foolish souls were the last defense of the wizard world, the only ones courageous enough to stand directly against the forces of Lord Voldemort, and wise enough to see past the lies of the Ministry. For years since the fall of the Dark Lord, they had hid in the shadows, watching and waiting ever vigilant for any sign of Voldemort's return. Now that it had happened they found themselves wholly unprepared against the crushing darkness threatening to consume everything they knew.

The summer after the Dark Lords rebirth they had banded together, hearkening to Dumbledore's call, but Voldemort had chosen to lay low. The Order of the Phoenix had anticipated his actions, and quickly moved against his plans to bring the dark creatures of the magical world to his side. Their efforts however, hadn't been enough, and Voldemort had secured the Giants, Trolls, Werewolves, and was quickly gaining the vampires' trust. They had at least kept him from stealing the Prophecy, but with his unveiling the Dark Lord struck with a terrible wrath, displaying power of the kind not even the wisest and most foresighted of them had predicted. For while Voldemort had distracted the Order with dark creatures and his attempt to take the Prophecy, the cunning sorcerer had sunk his fingers deep into the ministry. They had known he had some power there, as a few of his Deatheaters held positions. Minisiter Fudge even took counsel often from Lucius Malfoy, one of Voldemort's chief lieutenants. What they had not known is how many hearts the Dark Lord had managed to darken with his whispers of power and the restoration of a society with those of lesser blood in the positions of serfs, and the pure blood elites as the ruling aristocrats.

One of the main advantages the Order had long held was their members within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and within the Aurors especially. That had been taken from them as Voldemort had somehow managed to sneak his own spies in more powerful positions and the Order found more and more of their information false, fed to them by the willing or unwilling spies of Voldemort. With the eyes of the Phoenix blinded, they had no way to react quickly enough to the Dark Lord's movements, and were caught unawares when he so quickly attacked Madam Bones, and then Diagon Alley, taking Ollivander the wand maker. More attacks followed and the Order would find the Deatheaters gone before they managed to determine their location.

The Dark Lord's power and cunning was most clearly demonstrated in his ability to divide his enemies and deteriorate their moral. With Harry's kidnapping they had begun to suspect spies of the Dark Lord within their own rank, as there was no other conceivable way for Voldemort to have pulled the maneuver off so quickly. Their trust in each other was quickly diminishing with these thoughts.

Fletcher, who was only there to alert the Order in the event that something went amiss, would have been killed if not for the actions of a gruesome vigilante whose identity they were still unsure of. Not since the days of Fabian and Gideon Prewitt had they heard of such violence being wreaked upon the deatheaters. Even so, they had all rejoiced upon hearing of Harry's escape, only for the high spirits to be dashed about a week ago when they received grim tidings and a call to another meeting.

"My friends, " Dumbledore's ancient voice rang out through the cabin. The Order found themselves steeled in its strength. "You've all heard the surprising, or in some cases expected news that has prompted our gathering."

Moody stepped forward from the wall, eye spinning. "I kept telling you he'd move against the Grangers, but you went ahead and warded the Weasley's instead! Why would he bother attacking wizards to draw Harry out when he could attack muggles?!"

"As I've told you Alastor, I had been planning on moving Harry to the Weasleys' before things went so swiftly astray. I rightly believed protections around the Burrow necessary in that case. I do admit however that the blame lies with me for not thinking of warding the Grangers after Harry's kidnap and escape. I've had many other….things that have kept my mind quite preoccupied." Dumbledore rubbed his blackened hand underneath the table. The pain never seemed to go away.

"Is-is Hermione okay?" Arthur Weasley questioned shakily. His wife sitting next to him was pale, and would not look up from the table.

"When we arrived Hermione wasn't there, neither were her parents." Tonks spoke up, Mckennon who had been with her and the other aurors, nodded his head.

"There were though, many carcasses of werewolve's lying throughout the neighborhood. We counted twenty-two."

"The packs, especially Greyback's, whose numbers have been increasing with each passing day, travel in groups of twenty-five, or not at all. A few must have escaped whoever slaughtered them." Remus stated.

Mrs. Weasley moaned in despair "They took Hermione and her parents then!"

"I'm not sure about that." Mckennon's American accent contradicted the hysterical women. "I questioned one of the muggle residents of the neighborhood who witnessed a great deal of what happened. He was half crazed but I managed to get from him that Mr. and Mrs. Granger left about ten minutes before he looked out his window and saw a bear fighting with a pack of wolves, before the bear changed into a heavily wounded, tall, dark haired young man. His first thought had been to run out and help him but upon stepping into his yard he said he saw the Granger's girl 'mutter a word of nonsense' and float him into their car with a stick before driving off with him. He had to be obliviated, obviously. Another point to consider is that I'm sure if Voldemort had the girl we'd have heard something by now. It's been a few days."

Everyone except Snape and Mundungus Fletcher, who appeared to be asleep, looked both relieved and very concerned. A few people flinched at Mckennon using the Dark Lord's name. Thomas didn't care. Hate he felt plenty for Voldemort, but no fear or respect.

"My first thought is that the rescuer must be Harry but that doesn't really match his description. He's never been a tall boy, nor is he an animagus." Dumbledore said confidently. Remus was looking down now at the old dusty table, hiding the panic in his eyes.

"Do you think perhaps, that it's the same person who killed the deatheaters at Privet Drive?" Snape asked. Remus had always tried to treat the man kindly and was letting him sit at his table. Snape strongly suspected it was Potter, and he and therefore Dumbledore knew the boy had gotten taller, but Snape also knew Dumbledore didn't want the rest of the Order to see the boy as a murderer. Amusingly, many of the members gathered there would have approved of his actions. Snape figured Dumbledore didn't want to admit it because it'd be admitting that he failed Potter. Failure wasn't something the old wizard handled well.

"That seems most likely. Since he saved Miss Granger we can assume that he's probably staying with or knows where Harry is. This bodes well for Harry. I was before very worried that there was no one to protect him." Dumbledore's voice sounded satisfied, which irked a few of the people present.

"I don't think he needs protectin if he managed to get out of Malfoy Manor. How many deatheaters did he kill fightin his way out, Snape?" Moody cast a shrewd glance at the Potions Master. The sly and paranoid old auror was quickly coming to conclusions about the game Dumbledore and his pet snake were playing. Mckennon narrowed his eyes at the back of Moody's head. he was catching onto Moody's line of thinking.

"I know only of Bellatrix." Mrs. Weasley let out a gasp, and the candlelight revealed many of the Order member's eyes widened in surprise. "I had to leave soon after I freed the boy of his chains and wasn't able to witness his departure. The Dark Lord has since been in a terrible rage and has sent many away, and has not called on me, so I have no way of obtaining knowledge of any more .. casualties." Snape lied smoothly.

"How did he manage to kill a skilled Dark Witch like Bella if he was chained up?" Remus asked.

"They were both quite nude and Bellatrix was advancing on potter. From appearances it seemed she was attempting to moles-"

"That Bitch!" Molly Weasley screamed, getting up from her seat. Tonks' hair was red as well as her face, and the other occupants looked as if they didn't know quite what to say.

"-ting him." Snape finished, casting an amused glance at Molly. "That got her close enough for him to wrap the chains around her throat. I'm surprised the boy had enough strength left in him to strangle her. It looked like he'd been tortured excessively." A wicked grin was on his face as Mrs. Weasley looked like she was about to explode.

"Severus that is quite enough." Dumbledore said sternly, looking Severus in the eyes over his half moon glasses perched on his crooked nose. Lupin's face was white with rage, his face twisted into a murderous, animalistic snarl. His fists, lying on the chipped, worn table, were balled up so hard the knuckles were white and veins were clearly popping out. The anger of the order members in the room close to Harry was apparent and almost palpable. Suddenly the candles on the table and on the shelves of the kitchen flared, and a few Order members leapt out of their chairs and away from the walls. Diggle squeaked as his pointed hat caught aflame and he quickly removed it from his head and rushed it to the sink.

"You're a wizard you fool, use your bloody wand!" Snape shouted at the idiot over the running water. Diggle muttered something embarrassed and incoherent before casting a drying charm at his thoroughly soaked hat.

Very abruptly the wizards and witches were distracted from the amusing spectacle by a silver blur that rushed through the front door and solidified into a lynx upon the table.

"Dumbledore we've found Harry, unfortunately the deatheaters found him first. From the spells the monitors are picking up it appears there's some fierce dueling going on, send Tonks to me I'll need her. Keep Mckennon, he's still supposed to be on that bogus case I assigned him so he could follow that lead of yours. Hurry Tonks! The portkey will be ready in a few minutes." Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice echoed off the walls.

Tonks got quite quickly out of her chair. As she rushed by him, she felt Mckennon press something into her hand and she instinctively slipped it into her robes' pocket before running out of the door and apparating to the Ministry.

A few days earlier…

Voldemort was long past frustration in his failures regarding Potter. Never once had a plan regarding the boy gone right. Even the one time he had managed to capture him, it took the deaths of a handful of his followers, and then the boy escaped, killing a few more. Now he had sent a whole pack of werewolves and Potter had managed to slaughter them. He wasn't sure if any of his inner circle could have pulled off such a ridiculous feat.

'At least I had Grayback send a minor pack and not his own. Though the old wolf may have succeeded where the others failed.'

The Dark Lord stopped the train of thought and stared into the fireplace of the Malfoy's study. A head was staring back at him, beginning to blacken as the skin was charred. The hair was already burned off, and the features of the face unrecognizable. It belonged to one of the werewolves who had managed to live, the pack leader. The fireplace was constructed with a bottom that opened up to a deep empty space underneath it. A body could be fit into this space and the head would stick out into the fireplace from a hole that closed around its neck. He had put the werewolf in there alive, and it had screamed for a long time, only stopping just recently.

The other few who had survived he had given to his deatheaters. They so hated the half breeds. Voldemort could feel the hate and disgust whenever they were forced to be into the same room together. He felt how they wished so strongly to kill the mongrels on sight, only holding back because they knew it would incur the Dark Lord's wrath to kill other followers without permission. The smell emanating from the fireplace filled Voldemort's nostrils and he inhaled sharply, taking the scent of burning meat deep within his lungs before breathing out slowly.

It wasn't even that he thought Potter so important. He was but a boy; a skilled boy by all means, and perhaps a burgeoning dark wizard, but of no real importance. He had never really worried about Potter before, as he had always managed to prevail through luck, and by relying on wizards much greater than himself to come to the rescue. These last few weeks however, had changed Voldemort's perspective of Potter as he had not had any help, yet he had escaped him, killed his servants. But that also was really nothing special, merely a surprising change in the boy's character. His father before him had escaped his dungeons once, and many of his servants had been killed in the last war by formidable wizards; those few on the side of the light who had had the steel composition to do what was necessary to win.

But the Prophecy, of which he only knew a part of, nagged at him constantly, filling him with a sense of foreboding. He knew the contents had to have been in Potter's mind. Dumbledore had to have told him. But he had hesitated in delving too deeply to glean the truth from the boy's eyes, remembering the soul tearing pain he had experienced when last he was in Potter's head. He had felt it then, a bit of himself, and the agony as it tried to flow back into him. The horrible love the boy had been feeling and thinking had attempted to mend the Dark Lord's soul, thrusting the discarded soul shard in the boy's head back at him, making him feel remorse. It would have killed him. That he was sure of. But he had pulled away, and much of it had fled back, but much of it had escaped into him. Outside of Potter's mind, absent the power of love, the diminished piece of soul had not enough strength to force the joining, but still it had tried.

Terrible had been the Dark Lords suffering as for long hours he grappled with it, desperate to prevent the re-bonding that could have destroyed him. Finally he had managed to wrest it again from his own soul, and into a material container. He had destroyed it then, watched as dark Fiendfyre conjured from his own wand destroyed a piece of himself. He had thought about joining it to one of his horcruxes but it was too unpredictable now, had been with Potter for too long, and had been tainted by his love. Regrettably there had been no choice but to destroy it.

He had not guessed before that there was a piece of himself in the boy. Looking back, at times he had felt it but had never come to the right conclusion. But he should have known. He had been attempting to make a horcrux that night, it was only logical that the piece of himself he had separated would go into the babe when it had nowhere else to go. Voldemort had himself been reduced to mere shadow and vapor, and had fled immediately in horrible pain. Now that he considered it, some of the most painful moments of his life seemed to be tied to the boy.

But he was so drawn to him. That was really why he desired so much for Potter to be by his side. Something had to have happened to the remains of the piece of his soul within the boy because when he had been near him he could not sense it. But in a way he still could. It was different, like it was him but it was also Potter. A distinctly different person, but yet the presence of himself was even more pronounced then it had been when there was just a piece separated from the rest of Potter's soul. Now it was as if the piece had blended with the boy to the point where it was unrecognizable, but yet still very familiar. Perhaps the horcrux, so weakened after the events at the Ministry, had not enough power to remain itself and had assimilated with Potter's own soul. That would explain his recently developed taste for violence, and for dark curses. But so would becoming an animagus in the method Potter had chosen if the animal was a particularly fierce one. Judging by Amycus's mauled corpse it was. He would have no way of really knowing until he could fully examine Potter. He should have done so when he had him captured, but arrogantly he had thought he would have much more time, and hastened to meet with the vampire Elders instead.

The Dark Lord's wrath at the death of his lieutenant was starting to vanish. Bellatrix had been a loyal follower but nothing more to him, and she was broken by Azkaban. Her usefulness had been rapidly departing, as so clearly demonstrated by her failures, and by her death at the hands of a prisoner who she had chained and powerless. It was only by her mistakes that Potter had been able to kill her. She had had him at her mercy but because of her lust of the flesh, her weakness in her obsession and desire to have something resembling her master, she acted foolishly and paid the price for it. If Potter had not killed her, He surely would have anyway.

The Dark Lord took a breath and steadied himself. One mistake in what he was about to attempt and he might find a repeat of the horrible agony he'd experienced at the ministry. He'd been fortunate so far in his mental forays, but fortune one does not rely on wisely.

Harry found himself walking. He recognized the road he was on as the one that led to Privet Drive. The sun was glaring down at him, distorting the air in front of his eyes, heating the pavement under his bare feet. But he walked and walked under the angry summer sun, feeling no weariness or thirst. Eventually he come over a hill, and saw at its bottom a car he recognized to belong to the Dursleys. The car was pulled sideways almost off the road, as if it had been veered to a sudden stop. There was a barricade of cones and signs in front of it, and off of the opposite side of the road a bobby's car sat in waiting. He watched as the bobby got out and began speaking to someone in the Durselys' car. As Harry got closer he could hear his Uncle's voice replying.

'What is this?' Harry thought. 'Did Vernon and Petunia somehow survive? I'll have to tell Dudley when I get back to the apartment, he'll be so happy.'

The bobby pulled a gun out and Harry ran forward alarmed. As he pointed the gun at Vernon Harry charged him, seizing his arm, but the bobby threw him off easily and Harry barely caught himself to prevent his face from slamming into the asphalt. He got to his knees and for the first time looked down. He was somehow his scrawny 15 year old self again. His tattoos were gone, and all he was wearing was a bed sheet wrapped around his waist.

"You cannot stop this." The bobby said calmly and pulled the trigger as Harry lunged again. Two shots fired and Harry watched as his Aunt and Uncle's horrified expressions were wiped away as their skulls expelled gore all over the inside of the car.

The man had somehow moved quickly away and Harry had missed in his lunge. He was on his knees now, staring up into the bobby's red eyes. The man was standing in front of Harry in such a way that the sun's bright glare cast his shadow directly onto the boy, enveloping him.

"This was my gift to you Harry. Do you not like it?" The voice coming out of the man's mouth was smooth, serpentine, and familiar.

Harry felt rage course through him, but he was unable to move from his kneeling position.

"You just shot my relatives you sick fuck!"

"Ah Harry, but did you really consider them such?" The smile on the Bobby's face was sinister

"I-" Harry found he didn't really have an answer.

"Did you Harry not sometimes desire to do what I just did? Did you not sometimes sit in your cupboard at night after your Uncle beat you and denied you dinner when you had labored all day like a house elf, and wish for the feel of a gun in your hands so you could end his pathetic life?"

"How did you know that?" Harry asked weakly. The ground felt like it was falling away beneath him as the memories came unbidden and he recalled his horrible years at Privet Drive, the dark places his mind had taken him when he was but a child.

"At the Department of Mysteries Harry I saw in your heart and mind much love, but I also saw much more hate." The bobby threw the gun aside and leaned down, grasping Harry's chin and looking into his green eyes with his red ones. Harry felt like the eyes were boring into his soul, stripping away the layers he had constructed to hide himself, to reveal the truth.

"Just last night you tore through a pack of werewolves like they were nothing. A group of men you killed, men who have wives and children and other loved ones. But you enjoyed it immensely, didn't you? You felt not one ounce of regret as you slaughtered these human beings like cattle. Tell me Harry, even in my most extreme moments of sadism, where is the difference between you and I? What is it that makes you believe I'm of worse character than you? "

"I killed them because I had to!" Strength returned to Harry's voice with his epiphany. "If I hadn't done something they would have killed Hermione!"

"Oh is that why?" Voldemort's questioning smirk was amused. "No, I don't think it is. I think you wanted to kill them, wanted to feel their throats beneath your teeth, wanted to taste their blood. After all, there are other ways to stop a man or beast besides killing it. Dumbledore's taught you at least that much I know."

Harry couldn't deny the truth in that statement and looked down saying nothing. Hopelessness started to envelop him. He really was a monster.

"But don't despair my dear boy. The two of us are not so evil as you're so eager to think." Harry looked up again confused.

"As I've told you before there's no such thing as evil. Such black and white inventions are indeed just that, inventions of men who cannot grasp the creator's image, the plan that's been set before us, the will that not one of us can avoid."

"What are you talking about?"

Voldemort let go of Harry's chin and stood up and stepped backwards, throwing his arms out beside him as if gesturing for Harry to look upon a great kingdom.

"What I'm speaking of Harry is our purpose! We're put here on this earth, premade with all our inclinations towards violence, our vices, and our thirsts for power to act as gears in an inevitable machine. We exist to spur on the rest of mankind towards progression! Without us, the world stands stagnant and the human race moves not forward. The will of god, or the gods, or the universe, or whatever deities you happen to prefer depend upon people like us. What you call evil Harry is merely a tool beyond our understanding. Whatever suffering we cause, is a necessary unpleasantry in a greater picture of unimaginable beauty that even I cannot fathom. And our brushstrokes upon this painting will be the greatest, for only we have the iron wills and the power to achieve it!"

Harry became lost in Voldemort's voice, his words filling Harry's head with visions of what could be achieved. A better ministry put into place, if only a few were killed. Muggle wars ceasing and a time of peace established with the governship of wizard kind over the rest of the world. It would require much death and pain but in the end it would be worth it. The words spoke directly to his soul, his desire for a justification for his actions, his desire not to have to look upon himself as a monster. His urges to kill, his lust for power were ok because that's how he fit; it's what he was designed for. As he looked into Voldemort's eyes and the great picture was revealed to him it was as if he was looking into a mirror and seeing a reflection of himself, what he could become.

"I give you one last, final offer. Join me and realize your potential, fulfill your purpose in this world." Voldemort reached down and plucked a flower from the grass beside the road, and held it in his open palm towards Harry. The wide spread yellow buds caught the light of the blazing sun and shone golden.

"Or stand against me and watch everything you love, everything dear to you in this life fall to ruin." The hand closed and the flower was crushed. Voldemort dropped it on the road in front of Harry. As it touched the sorcerer's shadow upon the ground it was suddenly black and withered, dead. "For going against my will is going against that of the gods; I stand only in accordance with them. The choice will soon be upon you. Do not tarry when the time comes."

At these last words the bobby with the Dark Lord's eyes began to dissolve, along with the road Harry was kneeling on, the cars, and the sun, and the blackened flower. The color in the surroundings bled away into white, and Harry was thrust violently from the land of dreams.

"Hermione! Get over here I think he's waking up!" Harry's ears interpreted Dudley's voice as a distorted blurry noise. The red brick walls, and the ceiling spun around him as he opened his eyes, before they settled into a still picture. Hermione's smiling face was now above his.

Harry shook his head confused. The only thing he was certain of was that he was back in his room in the apartment.

"Hermione? How'd you get here?" His voice was weak, his throat scratchy.

"I found your address in your pocket, and drove you here after you killed the werewolves. "

'oh that's right.' Thought Harry. 'the werewolves I enjoyed killing so much.' The memory was really quite hazy to Harry but he could remember bits and pieces, the joy he had felt as he bit into furred throats, and the blood spraying everywhere. There had been so much of it that night that it had appeared in the air like a red mist, and the smell still lingered in his nose, and on his tongue.

"Would you like a glass of water?" Hermione must have interpreted his licking of his lips as thirst.

"I'd prefer whiskey actually at the moment." Harry joked. Hermione frowned.

"I'll go get some," Said Dudley, getting up from his chair beside the bed and walking to the kitchen.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, scandalized.

"What?" He asked, smirking.

"You haven't been drinking have you?"

"So what if I have? If you knew what I've gone through this Summer you wouldn't begrudge me of needing a little extra help falling asleep at night, or just staying sane, which I'm not sure I've managed."

Tears formed in Hermione's eyes and she looked away.

"I'm sorry, it's just-"

"It doesn't matter, I figured you'd react like that. Always been a goody two shoes you have."

Harry moved to get out of the bed but winced, feeling a pain stretch across his chest. He looked down and saw he was covered in bandages but naught much else. He glanced under the gray, bloodstained covers to find the same thing.

"What the bloody hell? Who did all this, and where's my clothes?"

Hermione blushed. "When you transformed back you were nude, and you were covered head to foot in wounds. When I got you here I cleaned you up, and stitched and tended to them as best I could. Dudley helped too. I wish I could have healed them better with magic, but it doesn't do much for werewolf inflicted bites and cuts. Sorry."

"Wow Hermione thanks, I probably would have bled to death if it weren't for you." He couldn't imagine how much work stitching his whole body up must have been, but he was a little embarrassed at her seeing him in the buff and looked down at the covers, not meeting her eyes.

"Ay, what about me?!" Dudley acted offended as he appeared back in the room, handing Harry a glass of ice and whiskey, which he began to sip on.

"Ha, thanks to you Dudley. " Hermione stared on disapprovingly at Harry's consumption of alcohol but didn't say anything.

"How long have I been out?" Harry asked

"Almost four days, you didn't stir once except to mumble incoherently in your sleep. Made Hermione anxious you did." Hermione shoved Dudley embarrassedly as he laughed.

"Damn, that's a long time. Wait Hermione, what about your parents, do they know you're here?"

Her eyes widened comically "Oh wow, I completely forgot, I should probably go call them." She got up and left the room, and then the apartment. They heard her footsteps down the stairs.

"Does she know where the phone is?" Harry asked, swinging his legs out of the bed and standing up.

"Er ya, she's been to the store a few times, what are you doing?" Harry had struggled himself painfully into some clothes, repaired his shredded robe and pulled it over his head, and was now gathering things around the room into his trunk. He picked up his wand and waved it. All of books flew off the bookcases adorning the walls and into the bottomless bag lying inside the trunk.

"I can't stay here, with you and Hermione. It's too dangerous."

"What the fuck, Harry, where are you going to go then?!" Dudley had followed Harry out into the living where he had set his trunk down and was summoning everything else he needed.

"I- I don't know, I'll find somewhere but I have to be alone, I can't put other people in danger like this." He didn't want to tell Dudley that was only part of the reason he was leaving.

"That's some fucking bullshit! Look we can reinforce the doors or whatever, we'll do something, but I'm not letting you leave!"

"You're not letting me?" Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously at his cousin.

"That's right, because you're being a coward right now-"

"Shut up Dudley." Harry growled

"Running away from your problems. You think Sirius would be proud of you righ-ughh!"

Harry slammed his fist into Dudley's jaw and the boy stepped back, clutching his face. He looked up and a glint appeared in his eyes before he let out a yell and charged Harry, wrapping his arms around his cousin's midsection.

They fell backwards over the back of the couch and rolled off it, crashing into the glass coffee table which shattered upon impact.

They rolled around, wrestling on the glass shard covered carpet before Harry managed to circle his arm around Dudley's neck and under his throat. He levered himself, cutting off Dudley's air and blood supply and the boy wheezed, struggling futilely against Harry's strength and throwing wild, desperate punches.

"Hello?" The deep male voice on the other end of line questioned.

"Hey Dad, it's me."

"Hermione? Where the hell have you been?" Mr. Granger sounded angry.

"I've uh, I've been in London with Harry. Look, I'm sorry I forgo-"

"Oh, so you just decided to run off with your wizard boyfriend without telling us?" His voice was quieter now, but still very angry.

"Dad, he's not my boyfriend."

"Like hell he's not your boyfriend, why else would you run off with him?"

"Dad, it's not like that." Hermione was close to frustrated tears, it was clear she wasn't getting through to him.

"Do you know worried we've been?" It was Hermione's mother now. Her voice sounded desperate and choked with emotion.

"We came home and the car was gone, and the police were there. They said there'd been packs of wild dogs fighting, and we haven't heard from you in four days!"

"Mum those weren't dogs."

"What were they then?" Asked Mr. Granger

"Werewolves, they were after Harry, but Harry killed them. He was injured badly though, so I took him here, to his apartment so I could take care of him. It's not like I could just take him to a muggle hospital."

There was silence on both ends for a moment.

"Are you there?" Hermione asked nervously.

"I can't take anymore of this." Mrs. Granger said. She heard her dad call to her to no avail.

"Your mum just left. Hermione, why were there werewolves after Harry?"

"Well, you know how Harry's famous for defeating a Dark Lord when he was a baby right? Well this Dark Lord obviously doesn't like him very much and keeps doing stuff like this to him."

"That kind of defeats the whole purpose of being defeated."

"Ya well, he's kind of rising to power again."

"Well isn't that just fucking brilliant. Why didn't you tell us about this sooner, this seems like something you should have at least written home or told us about."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. It's just I didn't know how to tell you, and I was scared you wouldn't let me go back to Hogwarts."

"Hermione…" Her dad sighed. "We might not understand a lot of things about the wizarding world but we wouldn't do that to you. If your ministry is letting this school stay open then I'm sure it's protected right?"

"Yes of course, Voldemort wouldn't ever go there, the wards are really strong and he's scared of Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Ok whatever. The point is we wouldn't just rashly do something like that, you should have told us about it, we're your parents, we have the right to that kind of knowledge. And you definitely should have contacted us as soon as you were going to London."

"Wouldn't you have been mad I was going by myself with Harry? I mean you already jumped to conclusions about it before you even knew anything."

"No, I was just angry because I was worried. You're a big girl, if you want to stay the night with your boyfriend that's fine, just let us know where the hell you're going so we don't worry."

"Dad he's not my boyfriend. I just told you that."

"Ok ok whatever, keep your pretenses, I don't care. When are you coming back?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure. Harry's still in pretty bad condition, and I don't really trust his cousin to take care of him."

"Wait are you talking about the cousin that Harry hates? If Harry moved out, which is what I'm guessing, why would he be there?"

"Uh, they've gotten closer after Harry's Aunt and Uncle died."

"Oh…So, Harry fought off a pack of werewolves by himself? Why didn't the wizard police come, and why weren't you helping, you can do magic."

"Well first of all, I'm guessing the aurors did come if you were hearing that it was a pack of dogs. Whenever something like that happens they make the witnesses memories to think it was something more mundane."

"That sounds like the Men in Black or something."

"Ya exactly. But anyway, I didn't do anything because werewolves are resistant to magic. Also animals don't catch lycanthropy from werewolf bites, and Harry can turn into a huge bear so he did that and fought them."

"Ah, well that's handy." Mr. Granger sounded impressed.

"Alright Dad, I'm gonna go, I'll call you tomorrow alright?"

"Ok, I'm going to go try to calm your mum down."

"Haha good luck, bye, love you!"

"Love you too."

Hermione hung the phone up and made her way back up the stairs and down the hallway to the apartment. She opened the door and screamed.

Harry stopped choking Dudley and looked up. Dudley pushed himself off of Harry and rolled onto his back gasping for breath.

"What the hell is going on?!" Hermione shouted, running over to them and kneeling by Dudley.

"He- wa – was – trying – to – leave. We – got ina fight." Dudley managed to wheeze out. Hermione glanced at Harry who didn't meet her eyes.

She pulled her wand out and pointed it at Dudley's arm which was bearing a cut from the glass.

"No Hermione, don't!" He grabbed for her wand.

"Epiksey!" It was too late. The cut on Dudley's arm vanished, leaving only the blood that had welled out.

"God Fucking Damnit!" Harry grabbed his hair in frustration, and stood up.

"Harry, language!"

"The fucking Trace you genius!" Harry hissed, punching the wall. She just stared at his back bewildered.

"Wha-"

"The Trace, what the ministry uses to track underage wizards and witches. Voldemort and Dumbledore have people in the ministry and they're both probably watching your trace since I'm sure they were able to guess that you're with me. Now they'll both be able to find us." Harry was leaning in close to her face now, anger in his eyes.

"I-I forgot, I'm sorry!"

"Harry back off, it was just a mistake." Dudley grabbed Harry by his arm.

"Shut the bloody hell up Dudley, this is your fault anyway." Harry pushed his cousin away ,picked his wand up out of the remains of the wrecked table before grabbing his trunk and making to walk out of the apartment. He only needed one trunk for all his things now that he had the bottomless bag.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"Somewhere where the deatheaters won't find me with you two. You both should probably leave in case they make it here before the Order."

"It's a little too late for that, I think." All three of the teenagers heads whipped around to the open doorway where a deatheater stood in long black robes similar to the ones Harry was wearing but in much better condition.

"Yaxley." Harry said coldly, recognizing the deatheater's voice and glaring at him. His wand was gripped tightly in his hand.

"Have you made your choice, boy?"

"Yes. I-"

Yaxley was suddenly grabbed by the throat and slammed into the wall. He tried to bring his wand up but his hand was banged repeatedly into the wall until the wand fell to the carpet. Dudley had made the choice for Harry. Yaxley made muffled, strangled yells as he tried to wriggle out of Dudley's grip but the small man wasn't making any progress.

At the commotion, more deatheaters began to pour through the doorway, and Harry quickly blasted one out with a "confringo!",before blocking a curse with a silent 'protego'. Hermione had ducked behind the couch and was firing curses and shield charms as quickly as she could while Harry levitated random objects and sent them flying at the deatheaters or in front of him to block curses. There was a shout of pain as a steak knife found its way into a deatheater's chest.

Hermione cried out as a slashing curse made its way through the couch and cut her arm open. She dropped her wand and the deatheater who was taking cover just behind the doorway decided to go in for the kill.

The deahteater's wand began to glow green as he started to incant the killing curse, but Harry sent a skin flaying curse at his opponent who fell to the floor screaming before leaping at Hermione's and tackling him into the hallway. They both struggled for a few moments on the ground before Harry kicked the deatheater off of him and got to his feet. The deatheater did as well and shoved Harry into the wall but Harry's fist crashed into his nose, and the stunned man stumbled backwards. Harry tackled him again but this time they hit the banister and toppled over.

They fell three stories, and Harry managed to get man under him just before they imapacted the ground with a series of cracks and squelshes. Harry coughed and spit out blood before rolling off the man, who was definitely dead. He didn't bother removing the deatheater's mask to find out who he had just killed but got shakily to his feet, groaning in pain. There were at least a few things broken in his body. These recent injuries along with the ones he still hadn't recovered from almost made him unable to move but he struggled through it. He needed to get back to Hermione and Dudley. Harry noticed several of the apartment doors were opened and tenants lay dead on their floors or in the lobby or on the stairs.

Pops sounded around Harry as he limped his way back up the stairwell and he looked around alarmed as wizards and witches in red robes began appearing to duel the remaining deatheaters. He stumbled over a body and watched as a pink haired auror some ways up the stairs took on a deatheater only for another one to sneak up behind and point his wand at her back.

"Defodio!" Harry cried out, thrusting his wand savagely. The deatheater was blasted backwards in a bloody mess along with the wall behind him. There were distant crashes and thuds as the brick wall followed by deatheater's destroyed body hit the ground of the alleyway outside the apartment. Sunlight shone in the new hole, and Tonk's opponent stared in shock over her shoulder. She quickly took him out with cries of "Stupefy!" and "Incarcerous!". Then she turned around and flashed Harry a grin.

"Thanks Harry!" With that Tonks ran up to help out another auror who was engaging two deatheaters at once on the hallway of the third floor. Harry ran past all of them into his apartment, barely managing not to trip over Yaxley's body before stopping and taking in the scene in front of him.

Dudley was out cold not too far from him and had a gash on his head that was bleeding heavily, but there was color in his face so Harry assumed in relief that he wasn't dead. Past his cousin's prone form in the living room Hermione was dueling fiercely with four deatheaters. There were two more who were lying quite dead on the floor. One was stabbed and bloodied all over with shards of glass, and the other's head was facing the wrong direction.

Hermione didn't stop in place for even a second and was moving around quickly dodging curses, her wand twirling and her mouth spitting out spells rapidly. One deatheater had a flock of yellow birds attacking his face savagely, another was busy for the moment repelling an attack from an armchair that had grown teeth and was trying to sink them into the deatheaters legs. Harry could see that it had been successful a few times. An assortment of furniture was coming at the deatheater from different directions, and the coat hanger got behind him, wrapping itself around the deatheater and pinning his arms to his sides so the rabid armchair could continue its feasting unchecked.

The remaining two deatheaters were taking turns shielding against Hermione's curses and firing them back at her. It was clear Hermione was losing the upper hand, and she was falling back towards the kitchen, desperation in her eyes.

"Drychu!" Harry growled out, slashing his wand in the air, and the wand arm of the deatheater cursing Hermione closest to him was lopped off. The man screamed in pain as blood pumped out of the stump that was left. Harry slashed his wand again, shouting the same curse and the screaming was silenced as the deatheater's head slid off his shoulders.

The other deatheater turned to him in rage with a cry of "Crucio!" But Harry dodged the curse and thrust his wand with a silent 'Expelliarmus!'

The man flew backwards into the wall, his wand sent in the opposite direction, and Harry strode towards him. Wrath stirred inside him as he recognized the pathetic wizard's voice.

The deatheater looked up into Harry's eyes and seemed to see something that terrified him for he tried desperately to scramble away.

Harry however was having none of that, and grabbed the man by his red hair lifting him up and ripping the mask off his face. The sticking charm yielded to the magic in Harry's anger.

"I bet you regret now, taking that mark." Harry whispered into the man's ear.

"Yes! Yes! Please don't kill me Harry! Please do-"

"Silencio." The scared deatheater's mouth kept moving but the words quit coming out.

"Kill you? No, I'm not ready for you to die quite yet. Legilimens!" Harry hissed staring into the man's terrified brown eyes and thinking of what he wanted to see in particular.

There was the strange sensation of the joining of wills, but hardly a struggle as the weak willed man barely put up any resistance.

A room slowly formed out of mist around Harry and he looked around. He was sitting at a desk, forms and papers before him. There were shelves and filing cabinets on the walls, and awards on the bare spots. Harry saw several Employee of the month and one Employee of the year.

'You'll always be but a desk jockey, whoever else you form ties to." Harry thought. A paper bird flew its way into the room through the open door, and the body Harry was temporarily inhabiting grabbed for it, unfolding it and smoothing it out on the desk, before taking out a vial of green potion and sprinkling some on to the blank parchment. Words promptly started to appear.

The Granger girl's Trace finally showed signs of activity so here are the cooridinates like you asked for. I'd better get that salary increase you promised you'd talk to Minister Scrimgeor about. - Malfalda Hopkirk

The coordinates were on the bottom of the page and Harry spared them a glance before withdrawing from Percy Weasley's mind.

"You fucking Weasel!" Harry shouted, punching Percy repeatedly in the face and then whipping him around before again grabbing him by the hair and slamming his head into wall.

Harry let go and Percy fell to the floor.

"You're a disgrace to your whole fucking family you sorry piece of shit!" Harry kicked the traitor hard in the ribs, and there were several audible cracks. Percy didn't even offer any protest as he was quite unconscious. His face was a mush of beaten flesh and broken bones, and blood was pooling from his cracked skull.

Harry lifted his foot to kick again.

"Harry that's enough!"

Hermione had bound the remaining two deatheaters and was staring at Harry in horror. Harry put his foot down and turned around, looking her in the eyes and struggling with his wrath. He walked past her, not saying anything and knelt down besides Dudley, healing the wound on his head and ennerverating him.

As Dudley groaned on the floor and began to sit up, Tonks walked through the entrance of the apartment and shut it behind her, staring at the room with wide eyes, her wand hanging by her side.

"I think you guys should probably get out of here."

"What you're not gonna try to bring me back to Dumbledore?"

"No." Tonks shook her head. "I don't think that's the best idea right now for any of you. The order isn't safe anymore."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked alarmed.

"I don't have time to explain, the other aurors are busy securing whats left of the deatheaters. They'll be up here soon though, but here take this." She handed Harry a note that he unfolded to find a pendant in the shape of some kind of bird.

"It's a portkey to a safe place, the note will explain the rest. Hurry, go!" Hermione drug Dudley over and placed his hand along with hers on the pendant Harry was holding.

"Wait, Tonks what was the first spell you ever used in front of me?"

"Pack!" Tonks grinned at him and at her utterance of the spell the portkey emanted a bluish glow that quickly enveloped the three teens.

Harry saw the door the thrown open and several aurors hurry in. Kingsley shacklebot looked straight at him and yelled words he couldn't hear. The tall auror's hand reached out futilely to grab Harry just before the world disappeared around him in a whirling rush.

An:

Drychu: Welsh for hew, amputate, or lop.

Sorry this chapter took a little longer to publish than the previous ones.