Harry Potter and the Cult of Shadows

by chadsgirl824

AFTER HOGWARTS Harry now works at Hogwarts and has his hands full as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. But Voldemort's fate is still a mystery and dark forces are closer than anyone imagines. Written before OotP

12. Chapter 12

Feeling angry and confused, Harry slammed the door to his office shut behind him, and took a deep breath. He needed to relax, and not just let himself get caught up in his anger. Slowly, he calmed his breathing down, and finally crossed the room to the hearth.

"What'd he say?" Mel asked immediately after her head appeared in the flames.

"Let's just say it didn't go well," Harry said darkly.

"He didn't refuse, did he?" Mel asked, horrified. "How can he? After what just happened he'd have to be…"

"No Mel," Harry interrupted. "He didn't refuse. I never got the chance to tell him…"

"Why?" Mel asked warily.

Harry shook his head faintly, sighing inaudibly.

"It doesn't matter," he said at last. "I'm not giving up, I just want to give him some time to cool off. Have you heard anything from Sirius or Marzia yet?"

"No," Mel replied. "Ron left that message with his father as well…nothing from him either."

"Alright," Harry nodded. "Let me know if you hear anything."

"You sure you don't want company?" Mel asked quietly. "Ron and Hermione could wait for…"

"Mel, thank you," Harry said, sincerely. "But I'd rather you stay there…if something does happen…I think it's best if you're not anywhere near me…"

"Harry, don't say that," Mel said quietly. "Besides they're not after me…"

"I don't want to chance it," Harry cut in, insistently. "Please, just wait there…if I finally get anything out of Snape, I'll call you back."

Mel made no reply for a long moment, before nodding faintly and sighing.

"Just be careful, alright?" she asked softly. "Stay safe."

"I will," Harry nodded, smiling gently. "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered back. Their eyes lingered for a long moment, before finally, her face faded, and all that remained were the flickering flames before him.

Looking down at himself, aching from the events of the day, Harry stood up slowly and decided to head down to his quarters. He wanted to get changed and relax for a few minutes, but he also wanted to find Snape and talk to him again. No matter what the potions master was angry over, the situation was now far too important for him to ignore the crystals any longer.

After making his way up the corridor, Harry closed the door to his quarters and threw on an old pair of jeans and a flannel. He tossed the clothes he'd been wearing to the floor, deciding to deal with them some other time and plopped lazily onto the bed.

As he lay there, he thought about the attack from earlier, wondering if the Shadow Walkers really had just happened to find him there…or if they'd known. The more he thought about it, it seemed strange that it would just be luck on their part. He wasn't in the locker room very long, fifteen or twenty minutes at best, but they'd known exactly where he would be. If it hadn't been for the crystals…he didn't even want to think about where he'd be right now.

The crystals. It was no good just hoping they'd be there every time he needed them, near or far. He wanted to be sure. If Snape still refused to help him after this…well…he might have to go ahead and use them anyway. He wasn't going to just let the cult get him because Snape had something against him…something that he must've been holding in for quite some time judging by their most recent conversation…if it could be called that.

Looking over his shoulder, Harry glanced towards the trunk containing the stones, and his stomach turned to ice. He shot up from the bed, looking frantically over the room, beginning to walk around, checking anywhere and everywhere…to no avail. The trunk was gone.

Fighting down a wave of panic, Harry's mind finally began working again, and he immediately left his quarters. Running as fast as he could, he made his way down to the dungeon area, skidding to a halt once again at Snape's door. There was no reply at his office however, and when Harry went down further, the same was true for the potion master's bedroom.

"Professor Snape!" he shouted, wondering if the older man were simply ignoring him. "Please if you're here answer me…it's important!" After several seconds and still no reply, Harry was feeling frantic once more. Knowing he needed to tell someone, he set off at a run once more, not caring how tired he was feeling, and raced back up the stairs, coming to a stop in front of the gargoyle which led to Minerva's office. He gave the password breathlessly, waiting for the large stone statue to move aside…but nothing happened.

Catching his breath, he tried again, and still nothing.

"Professor?" came a curious voice from a short distance away. Harry looked up to see Professor Flitwick ambling down the hall towards him. "Is everything alright?"

Harry looked from Flitwick to the gargoyle and back. He knew that the professor knew next to nothing about the crystals, and so telling him would do no good…but he needed to speak with McGonagall.

"I was just trying to get in," Harry said, gesturing towards the doorway. "I needed to talk to Minerva…has she changed the password to her office, do you know?"

"Oh!" Flitwick said, a smile crossing his face. "No, not at all…she was simply called away for the evening, and may not return until the morning. Her office is locked until then."

"Ah," Harry replied, trying not to appear as apprehensive as he felt. "Well…thank you," he nodded, and Flitwick returned the gesture as Harry passed him, heading for the stairs once more.

As he raced back towards the dungeon area, Harry made a sudden decision. He passed by a group of Hufflepuffs on their way up to their common room, and asked for a spare piece of parchment. After they lent him a quill and some ink as well, he scribbled out a quick message, returned the items, and continued downstairs. When he came to Snape's office, he looked at the note in his hand, and decided to keep going until he reached the potion master's bedroom. If Snape returned late from wherever he was, he may not go into his office, so his bedroom was the better chance that he might see the note.

Coming to the doorway, Harry tried knocking, and checked to see if the door were unlocked once more, but came up with nothing. Kneeling down, he placed the folded parchment on the floor, and slipped it through the crack under the door, before standing up and heading for the main entrance of Hogwarts.

Harry stepped out into the still chilly night air, the moon bright in the sky above him. He looked up at it for a moment, remembering that the full moon began the next night, and hoped that no matter how Snape felt…he would at least continue to make the potion for him, but didn't have time to worry about that now.

Realizing he didn't grab his broom, he crossed the school grounds until he came to the cupboard near the quidditch pitch. Pulling out his wand, he unlocked the door quickly, and grabbed the closest broom he could reach. He mounted it quickly, and was on his way to Hogsmeade.

In the letter he had left for Snape, there was simply a brief explanation. He let him know he was on his way to the ministry; he had to speak to someone. The cult had attacked for the second time, and the crystals were missing. He hoped Snape would meet him there, as he needed his help. He'd only added that last bit in hopes the potions master's ego might be tipped just enough for him to come, though inside, Harry knew it was the truth. He needed any help he could get.

As he reached Hogsmeade, he set off at once for the floo station, having no idea what he would do to get past the lobby at the ministry when he arrived. He glanced around at the few people walking the streets as the shops were getting ready to close up, when he spotted something that made him stop. A mop of red hair was sticking out from above a long black cloak, and at first, Harry wondered if it were Ron, having the same idea as he. But the person passed by the floo station, and continued walking. He reached up to pull the cloak over his head, but just before he did, he turned his head, and Harry recognized him. Troy.

Harry reached the floo station just seconds later, watching curiously Troy walk slowly away into the night before going inside. He paid the fee for them to watch his broom, and was about to get on line to use the next available grate, when his curiosity overcame him, and he headed once again for the door.

Looking up the street, Harry saw Troy heading swiftly towards the residential area of Hogsmeade. After one last glance inside the floo station, Harry again made a sudden decision. This could be his chance…he could see what the transfiguration professor was really up to…but if he waited, he would no longer be able to follow him. Pulling up the collar on his shirt, as he'd neglected to grab a cloak, Harry crossed his arms in front of him, and started forward, hurrying to catch up with Troy.

Moving quickly, but keeping his distance so as not to be seen, Harry followed Troy through the streets of Hogsmeade, passing row upon row of apartments and houses. He had no idea where the transfiguration professor could be going, and wondered briefly if perhaps Troy simply lived here…or at least knew someone who did.

But when the transfiguration professor finally chose a street to go down, he paused, looking all around him, forcing Harry to duck behind several nearby garbage cans. When he peered out once more, Troy had already set off down the street, and Harry crept to the corner. Troy was walking silently down the sidewalk; his black cloak billowing out behind him, and Harry tried to stay close to the houses as he followed, wondering exactly how far Troy planned on going.

Finally, only three houses from the end, Troy came to an abrupt stop, and Harry ducked down behind the nearest stairway, watching. The transfiguration professor looked slowly up and down the house he was standing directly in front of. He closed his eyes for a long moment, and Harry narrowed his own, wondering what Troy could possibly be doing, when the redhead suddenly started towards the house. Instead of going up the stairs, however, he headed down the alley just beside it.

Fully knowing it was probably the worst thing he could do, Harry took a deep breath, and started after Troy. He reached the entrance to the alley, peering cautiously down it, just in time to see a door gently shutting against the sidewall. Slipping silently into the passageway, Harry made his way to the door, surprised to see Troy had left it unlocked, and pulled it open just enough so he could squeeze through, catching it so it wouldn't make any noise shutting behind him.

He was in a short, dark hallway that led to another door, and as he slipped through that one as well, he saw a large, cluttered basement on the other side. There were several thick pillars with candles hanging from each one, casting a dim glow over the large room. One of the lights was slowly moving, however, and it took Harry's eyes a moment to focus on Troy's figure, creeping along slowly, and cautiously through the mess.

For several minutes, Harry could only watch from the shadows of the doorway, confused as to why Troy had come here, and what he could possibly be looking for, before finally having to move, himself. Troy was back too far for him to see now, and he crept as quietly as possible through the clutter. There was nothing of any importance around that he could see…just junk, broken furniture, toys, antiques…but what could Troy want with any of that?

As he was glancing around, however, Harry had taken his eyes away for too long, and didn't realize until he heard the noise only a few feet away, that Troy had come back around. Looking around anxiously, Harry found nothing big enough for him to hide behind, and just started backing away, hoping he could make it before Troy looked his direction.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, however, than Troy did exactly that. Harry saw the utter shock in the transfiguration professor's eyes as their gazes locked, before Harry's foot came down wrong on what might've been an old music box. His ankle turned inward, and Harry fell forward, throwing his arms out in an attempt to catch his balance, and accidentally knocking the candle from Troy's hand.

Troy caught Harry, because it was all he could do, but quickly pushed the dark arts professor away as the flames from his candle caught on the bottom edge of his cloak.

He knelt down, swatting at the small blaze with his bare hands, and Harry instinctively moved towards him to help, grabbing an old throw pillow lying several inches away and using to extinguish the fire. Troy clasped his hands together, grimacing painfully, and Harry stood up slowly, watching him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, uncertainly.

"I would have been fine if you hadn't set my cloak on fire!" Troy spat in a fierce whisper, turning his hands over in each other. Harry glanced at them, though when something caught his eye, he couldn't stop himself from reaching out quickly, and grasping Troy's right hand.

"Hey! What are you doing!?" Troy whispered in outrage, yanking back on his hand.

But Harry paid no attention, feeling a cold dread settle in the pit of his stomach. The mark of the cult was on Troy's wrist, it had surfaced when he was burned, and was only just beginning to fade again.

"You…you're one of them," Harry whispered, dropping Troy's hand and beginning to back away.

But Troy didn't reply. He reached into his robes, and Harry felt fear gripping him as Troy pulled out his wand. He shoved his hand into his pocket for his own wand, when a bright light suddenly flashed through the room, and Harry's vision blurred, before he fell at once to his knees, unconscious before his head touched the floor.

Harry's eyes fluttered slowly open, and the first thought that immediately entered his mind, was Troy. Feeling a brief surge of adrenaline, Harry bolted into a sitting position from where he lay on the floor, before quickly realizing he was completely alone. Not feeling any relief from this knowledge, he slowly stood up, to have a better look at his surroundings, which took all of ten seconds. There were no windows…no doors…no furniture. It was a dark, dim room, with one flickering candle hanging midway up the wall to his left.

Pushing down the fear that was settling slowly into his gut, Harry slipped his hand into his pockets, but knew before he'd even done it, his wand was gone. He remembered taking it out when Troy had pulled his own wand…and then a flash of light. Did Troy cause the light? He couldn't remember hearing the transfiguration professor speak…but then again, maybe it was something only a Shadow Walker could do, and Harry remembered the mark on Troy's wrist clearly.

"Why would he be using a wand then?" he muttered to himself, remembering how the cult laughed at Mel for trying to curse them using one. They seemed to consider wands both harmless…and useless. Was Troy's mark a fake as well? If it was…Adrik must've given it to him…but why?

Harry began pacing the room aimlessly, deciding to worry about it later…he had to escape first, but he had no idea what to even look for. He assumed Troy must've put him here, wherever here was…though he hadn't the slightest clue how.

Moving close to the blank wall on his left, Harry put his hands up against it, feeling the old, stale paint chipping away at his touch. He slid his fingers over the surface slowly, moving along, searching for anything…a hidden opening or latch…something that might help him find a way out. The wall was utterly solid however, but Harry was determined, and as he hit the corner, continued right along to the next wall.

He found nothing there either, and had little hope of finding anything as he moved to the third wall. But as he came closer to the candle, something very odd happened; a small breeze flitted past him, just barely wisping through his hair. Harry stopped in his tracks, waiting and hoping to feel it again, praying he wasn't simply going crazy and imagining it. After almost a full minute passed, he got his wish, as another barely noticeable breeze brushed his face.

Feeling a slight glimmer of hope begin to quash the fear within him, Harry moved to the candle, hoping there was a good reason that the breeze was coming from that spot, and not simply a draft from another room. He reached out cautiously, running his fingers along the holder that was bolted to the wall, and his eyes widened as it visibly rippled under his touch.

Grasping it harder this time, Harry tried pulling and tugging at the thick piece of metal, twisting and turning against its restraints, but it wouldn't budge, not in the slightest. After several minutes of this, he released the holder, huffing in frustration, as another breeze blew past him. He watched the candle this time, seeing the tiny flame whipping about in the faint wind, and got an idea.

Hoping this worked, as otherwise he would be plunged into complete darkness; Harry lifted his head towards the flame, and swiftly blew it out.

A bright light immediately illuminated the room, and Harry had to shield his eyes from the sudden change, blinking several times before they adjusted, and smiling at what he saw before him. Someone had enchanted the wall, making it seem as though there was a candle there, when all the while there was a window instead. Harry's heart leapt as he saw there were no bars, no locks…but as he leant over to peer outside, he understood why, and his brief feeling of triumph was snuffed out.

He was still in the same apartment building as the one he'd entered the night before, and from what he could tell he was now about as far up as the building went, which was much too far for jumping or climbing down. The sun was up and shining, however, and it looked to be about mid-morning…he'd been here around twelve hours.

The window was open though…not by much, but it was open, and Harry realized he might still have a chance here. There weren't many people on the streets down below, but there were a few nonetheless, and Harry bent down in front of the opening.

"Hey!" he shouted, as loudly as possible. "If anyone down there can hear me please answer!" He waited a moment, but no one on the street even paused. Grabbing hold of the window, he tried pulling it up further, hoping it might do some good, but it wouldn't budge, and after several minutes of trying he just gave up.

Leaning towards the opening again, he shouted once more.

"Please, if any of you can hear me…I need your help!"

Still no response…if they could hear him, they were doing a fantastic job of ignoring him. Looking around in frustration, Harry decided to try breaking the glass…even if he couldn't climb down surely his head sticking out a top floor window would catch someone's attention.

Rolling up one of the long flannel sleeves so it would soften the blow, Harry balled his hand into a fist, his elbow bent and poised, and taking a deep breath, he slammed it sideways, towards the glass.

Before his elbow touched the window however, he felt something blocking his path, and that something sent a most unpleasant shock through him, so strong it knocked him to the floor. Sitting up in a half-daze, coughing roughly, Harry heard a harsh bang, and saw immediately that the window was now shut.

Cursing under his breath, he scrambled across the room, trying with everything he had to pry it open, but it wouldn't budge.

At least I can still see it, he thought dismally, as he rubbed his sore elbow and turned again to look around the room. There was still one wall he hadn't searched…

There were no markings or indications that there would be any openings on this one, but there had to be a door somewhere, didn't there? As it was the only option he had for the moment, Harry walked quickly to the edge of the last wall, and once again began feeling around, searching.

It was simply luck that he happened to glance down nearly three-quarters of the way through, and noticed the floor was slightly discolored where he was standing. Concentrating on that spot, Harry knelt down, starting from the bottom and working his way up, moving slowly, cautiously, and finally, the wall rippled.

Harry froze, realizing at once that his right hand was touching a faint hump in the wall at that exact moment, and he pushed on it forcefully, digging his fingers into the paint as the wall continued to ripple and quiver, when at last the image changed. Harry felt his fingers curl, gripping tightly to a door knob that emerged from the wall, and felt a rush of triumph, followed immediately by slowly creeping dread, as he felt the knob turning under his fingers.

Letting go at once and taking a step back, Harry heard the clicking of a lock, before the newly visible doorway in front of him slowly began to open.

Harry watched anxiously, expecting to see Troy, and praying he wasn't bringing a group of Shadow Walkers…but his jaw dropped in shock as Adrik walked slowly into the room, followed closely by Ewan.

"You," Harry said, his eyes narrowing darkly as he glared at Ewan. "Got tired of cleaning up at the ministry so you decided to become a death eater?" Harry quipped bitterly.

"Oh he's funny today," Adrik smirked wickedly.

"Don't change the subject," Ewan said, rolling his eyes, ignoring Harry entirely. "You owe me ten galleons…pay up."

"Was it ten?" Adrik asked, carelessly.

"I knew you'd try to weasel your way out of this," Ewan said. "He found your escape route…the one you said he'd never find…barely took him an hour…now hand over the coins," he finished, holding out his hand expectantly.

"As I recall, he didn't get the window open, did he?" Adrik asked, glancing at it as he spoke. "Your escape was here all along, Potter," he said quite amused as he moved towards the window, sliding it open with ease. "You were so close too…most people simply amble around until the candle finally goes out." Harry watched him as he spoke; the window now back in the same position it had been beforehand. Instead of trying to open it further, as Harry had done, Adrik gently closed the window, pushing it firmly shut, before reaching up and clicking the lock into place.

The wall began to shimmer brightly and the window faded entirely from view in the glimmering light, forming an ever-moving shape in front of them.

"How's your elbow?" Adrik asked pleasantly. Harry didn't reply, and simply looked at the older wizard guardedly, at the sunken sockets that he knew were still seeing him, and tried not to shudder.

"Where does it lead?" Harry asked, trying to hide his apprehension.

"To exactly where you were trying to reach…outside," Adrik replied, smiling graciously. "Care to have a look?"

Harry glanced suspiciously at the doorway, knowing Adrik would never simply let him walk away, and shook his head slowly.

"Maybe later then," Adrik said, smiling darkly as the light faded from view, and the window reappeared.

"Where's Troy?" Harry asked, wondering why the transfiguration professor hadn't shown himself with the others. He knew Harry had seen him, so what was there to hide?

"Don't worry about him," Adrik replied offhandedly. "He'll be back at the school in time for classes tomorrow morning…" he paused then, continuing on in a much more sinister tone, "but you, sadly, will not be."

Harry looked back and forth from Adrik to Ewan, forcing back the fear creeping its way through him.

"What do you want?" he asked finally, honestly not sure. If Voldemort wanted his powers, he would have to kill Harry himself, but the dark lord had yet to show himself if he were there…

"Well, I have several things I must attend to, very important," Adrik said, sounding almost businesslike. "But you and Oren will be going for a little ride…" he trailed off, gesturing to Ewan.

"Oren," Harry repeated faintly, the realization clicking in at once. "Oren Alcott?" he asked, knowing he was right.

"Very good," Oren replied sardonically, rolling his eyes. "I honestly thought you'd figure it out sooner…"

Harry didn't reply for a minute, looking over Caleb's twin…knowing who he was now, he could see faint similarities in their features and expressions, despite the age appearance of about one hundred and thirty years. The eyes were what would truly give it away, however…and Harry could've kicked himself for not making the connection sooner.

"You killed your brother, didn't you?" Harry asked stiffly.

"Not exactly, though I was rather angry at him…" Oren shrugged nonchalantly. "He was saying too much…and I needed to test…something…" he said, evasively.

"Why did you give him the mark of the cult?" Harry asked, his anger growing as he continued. "Why did Travis have it as well…you killed him too didn't you? And Simone…"

"Travis, he's that stupid muggle, isn't he?" Oren spat bitterly. "He ruined everything…"

"What?" Harry asked, confused. "What are you…?"

"That's enough, Oren," Adrik spoke up sharply. "No need to burden Mr. Potter with information that he doesn't need to know…"

Oren nodded faintly, before glancing at his watch.

"We should get going…I don't want to wait too long."

"Yes, Lilith will meet you downstairs," Adrik nodded.

"Where…?" Harry spoke up, trailing off uncertainly. "Where are we going?"

Adrik smiled, a sight that sent chills down Harry's spine.

"I believe the Shadow Walkers wish to meet with you," he began, sounding insanely pleasant. "And I'm certain they were most disappointed that you didn't arrive yesterday, as you were supposed to. But as luck would have it, we know where to find them, so everything can continue…as planned."

Harry could feel his heart beating rapidly within his chest, the fog of panic was threatening to cloud over his mind and he strained to push it back. He had to get away, but at this moment, couldn't see any chance of escape. Even if he made it out of this room, he had the distinct impression there would be other death eaters in the building…and he didn't have his wand…

He watched silently as Adrik once again opened the doorway that was the window, the glimmering light appearing on the wall.

"Come on then," he said motioning Harry to go through. "Better if you don't fight us on this."

"If it only leads outside why can't we just use that door?" Harry asked, pointing to the entrance the two death eaters had come through.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Adrik smirked. "Everyone walking by seeing you with us on the streets of Hogsmeade…no, I think this way is better."

Harry looked at Adrik for a brief moment, before finally starting forward. Maybe if he got through before them he could simply run for it. Moving quickly, Harry reached the doorway and put his hand out first, relieved to feel that it didn't hurt or burn in any way, and steeling himself, stepped through.

Everything around him changed within that second, and suddenly he was standing on hard ground, in a rather wide dead end, surrounded by old, most certainly unlived in buildings; and a cool breeze was brushing against his face. There was a sleek, black car with tinted windows parked several feet to his left, but, Harry realized with a faint glimmer of hope, there was no one else there, and without a second thought, started off in the opposite direction from the car.

Before he could even get to a full run, however, he was roughly grabbed from behind, by something so strong, he was lifted off his feet. He struggled hopelessly against the iron grip that pinned his arms to his sides, trying to kick out at what was holding him, but only hitting air, as he was carried back towards the car. Adrik and Oren were standing there now, smiling in morbid amusement.

"It's always fun to see what they'll do, when they think they have an opportunity," Adrik commented as Harry was brought to them. Harry felt his feet touch the ground as whoever had him let go, and turned to see a Skein standing directly behind him. He instinctively stepped back a pace, remembering his last encounter with the spider-like creatures, and wondered where she'd come from. Glancing around again, however, he could see over a dozen Skeins were standing close by, all wearing long black cloaks, their spidery legs hidden underneath, and forming a semi-circle around the car.

"And now, it's time for you to be on your way," Adrik spoke again, moving casually towards the car and gently opening the back door, where Harry could see someone sitting. Adrik extended a hand, and politely helped Lilith out into the sunlight.

Lilith barely spared Harry half a glance, however, as she looked around at her Skeins. Her inverted eyes came to rest on the one directly behind Harry, "Zaida," she said, before shifting her gaze slightly to the right, "Zea, you two will go along."

Harry caught a glimpse of the two Skeins she'd addressed nod faintly in reply, before the one she'd called Zea stepped forward. She slipped easily into the back seat of the car despite the fact that she looked like she was nearly three sizes too large to fit.

"Have a lovely trip," Adrik said, nodding pleasantly towards Harry, and gesturing for him to get in. But Harry wouldn't, he shook his head slowly, standing his ground, not willing to simply go along and let them deliver him to the Shadow Walkers. Despair and fear were threatening to take over, and he refused, shoving the feelings back, needing to think…

"Fine," Adrik replied in obvious exasperation making a motion with his head that indicated he would have rolled his eyes, had he had them. Lilith simply nodded at the Skein she'd addressed as Zaida, and Harry was once again lifted roughly off his feet. He tried fighting, his breathing becoming quick and short, and as they neared the doorway he swung out his legs, struggling with everything he had, planting his feet against the corners of the door and trying to kick backwards.

Zea reached out from within the car, taking hold of his ankles, and the fight was over. Harry was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor next to the seat, and tried to scramble up, when Zea grabbed his arm and flung him onto the seat beside her. Zaida climbed in and lowered herself into the space on Harry's left, so the Skeins now flanked him.

Forcing himself to remain calm, he could hear Adrik and Oren speaking quietly for a brief moment, before Oren soon appeared in the doorway of the car. He climbed past Zaida and sat on a long seat that was just across from where Harry was, facing him.

The door was slammed shut, and the car began to move.

Harry sat quietly as the car moved silently down the empty road. He couldn't help but feel confusion over what Voldemort was trying to accomplish by giving him to the Shadow Walkers. If he wanted control over the crystals…he would have to kill Harry himself.

As the minutes ticked by, he slowly began to recognize the area they were going through, and realized they never left Hogsmeade, or if they did, it hadn't been by much. He could see people on the sidewalks, going about their normal, everyday business, and slid forward in his seat.

"Don't get any ideas," Oren said casually, seconds before Zaida forced Harry back against the seat. "They can't see you through the glass, they can't hear you if you shout, and if you're going to cause any trouble then I have no qualms about strapping you the chair until we're done."

Harry glared back at him darkly, before returning his gaze to the window, and wishing dismally that he'd never seen Troy the night before. But he simply couldn't let it go once he had, needing to know what the transfiguration professor had been up to. He still didn't know what Troy had been doing in Gryffindor Tower just before Christmas…or why he'd requested to resign from his position as an instructor…and wondered if he'd ever find out.

He looked again at Oren, to find the dark brown eyes staring straight back at him.

"So, you've been working with the Shadow Walkers this whole time then?" Harry asked, hoping he might get some answers from the old death eater.

"Not exactly," Oren replied vaguely.

"Did you tell them I was going to be at the quidditch pitch yesterday?"

"I didn't speak with them personally, no," Oren replied, stretching his arms over his head as if he were tired. "Adrik has his ways, and will be getting in touch with them again shortly…just as soon as we've dropped you off…"

"Why go through all of this?" Harry asked, stiffly. "You've known where I've been this whole time…if you wanted them to find me so badly why not just tell the cult about Hogwarts?"

"Believe me if that had been an option we would have done it long ago."

"Then why couldn't you?"

Oren smirked wryly, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"Don't worry yourself over it," he said, almost cheerfully, "it's not as if you'll ever see that place again anyway, so what does it matter?"

Harry was silent for a long moment, his stomach turning over the idea that Hogwarts might be in far greater danger than any of them had imagined.

"Who's the spy?" he asked quietly. "I know you have one…one of the ghosts at the school can sense him."

"Right, the Bloody Baron," Oren said with obvious irritation. "Been nothing but a bloody bother, that one…but then again, it doesn't matter now. We have what we need."

"You mean the crystals," Harry stated, it wasn't a question. Oren simply smiled, making no reply. "How do you intend to use them?" Harry asked bitterly, knowing they couldn't so much as open the trunk without him.

"Just let us worry about that," Oren replied, sweetly. "You might want to try relaxing a bit there, Potter. Why spend your last few hours so tense and stressed?" He smiled then, as if he were proud of giving such supremely helpful advice.

Harry could only sit there, glaring hatefully at the older wizard, and realized there was not much chance of him getting any more information out of him in regards to the crystals, so he changed the subject.

"Why did you frame Dumbledore?" he asked crisply. "What does he have to do with any of this?"

"Dumbledore? With the Shadow Walkers? Nothing really," Oren shrugged nonchalantly. "We were simply repaying a debt."

"To who?" Harry asked immediately.

Oren smirked skeptically.

"You mean to tell me you can't think of anyone who would want that old fool forced out of his position as head minister?"

"Thurston," Harry replied darkly, glad for the confirmation at least.

"Amazing deduction," Oren remarked, bored. He stretched again, yawning loudly.

"So then what did he do for you?" Harry asked quickly. "What debt did you have to him?"

"Do you ever shut up, Potter?" Oren asked, growing annoyed. "I'm tired and we have a little ways yet to go…just sit back and wait til we're there."

With that, Oren leant back against his chair, and closed his eyes. Harry glanced to either side, seeing the Skeins sitting rigidly in their seats, and sighed under his breath, hearing a shake in his voice despite himself. He was scared, and he couldn't see so much as a glimmer of hope that he might get out of this, but he refused to break. If he fell apart now, then it truly would be over.

Looking out the window again, he saw they were quite far from Hogsmeade, on a road he didn't recognize in the slightest. He watched the scenery pass by softly, the sun glinting off the last remnants of still-melting snow, the air blowing through the newly green leaves, before finally sitting back, and waiting…as it was the only thing he could do.

When the car finally came to a stop, they weren't even on a road any longer, but the very end of a gravelly path that trailed off into a forest. Which forest it was, was anyone's guess for all Harry knew, he hadn't the slightest clue where they were.

Oren nodded faintly to Zaida, who opened the door beside her and swiftly exited the car. Harry didn't have a chance to move for himself, as Zea immediately pushed him out, and into the mid-afternoon sunlight. He glanced around at once, taking in everything. There were trees just twenty feet from where he stood, which led into what appeared to be a deep forest. If he could make it to them, he might be able to lose Oren…maybe even the Skeins.

His hopes of escaping by that route were dashed within seconds, however, as both Skeins took hold of his arms.

"I can walk by myself, you know," Harry spat angrily, trying to pull away from their grasp.

"Of course you can," Oren spoke up, impatiently, stepping around and in front of Harry. "But we're not walking anywhere…we're disapparating. So my suggestion to you would be stop struggling, because you don't know where we're going, you don't have your wand, and any resistance will result in you being splinched."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, warily.

"You'll see when we get there," Oren smirked wickedly, and with that, he disappeared, a loud pop echoing in his wake.

Harry closed his eyes, waiting for the Skeins to go, and knew exactly when they did, as for several agonizing seconds, he felt as though he were being pulled in every direction at once, and saw only darkness. But before the fear of being torn apart could fully set in, he felt solid ground beneath his feet; they had arrived.

Involuntarily shaking in the slightest from that experience, but trying to hide it, Harry glanced at his new surroundings, and could feel his heart sinking. Maybe they were still in the forest, he couldn't tell, because now, with the exception of the small circular clearing they were standing in, there was nothing but thick, dense, impenetrable fog surrounding them. Oren was several feet to his right, staring at him.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, unable to take his eyes from the fog. Small tendrils of it were curling lazily past him, rejoining the mass again as they reached the opposite side.

"At the end of our journey," Oren's voice replied simply, before nodding curtly at the Skeins holding him. They pulled Harry to where Oren stood, near the one and only tree in the clearing. Harry could do nothing to stop them as they slammed him against it, and bound his wrists together around behind the tree.

Harry began fighting against the restraints at once, feeling cold dread seeping in as he realized what was going on; they were going to leave him here like this, surrounded by this terrifying mist, not knowing what might be lurking within it…

"Sorry to do this to you," Oren grinned then, sounding as far from sorry as one possibly can. "If you didn't have that annoying curiosity tendency, I could just leave you here…but let's be honest, if I told you not to go into the fog, we both know you would…"

As if on cue, a low, menacing rumbling filled the air around them, and it took Harry a minute to realize the noise came from something living…a creature in the fog, very nearby from the sound of it, was growling…

"What's out there?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking before the words left his mouth. His heart was pounding fiercely in his chest as he tried to remain calm.

"They won't leave the fog," came Oren's vague reply. "So long as you don't attract attention to yourself, they won't bother you."

Getting no comfort from this answer, Harry only struggled harder to free himself, feeling the coarse, sticky bonds grow painfully tight as a result.

Oren watched him for a minute, rolling his eyes.

"Well as fun as this is, we must be on our way," the death eater said briskly. He nodded again to one of the Skeins, who ran her fingers through her hair, tearing out a revolting tuft of it. Harry tried to turn away, but was held in place by the second Skein, and the sticky hair was shoved into his mouth, gagging him. Tightening his throat so as to stifle the reflexive urge that followed, Harry continued to fight against the restraints.

"You're only going to cause yourself more pain that way," Oren stated matter-of-factly. "The hair will just keep tightening as you move. Don't worry, you shouldn't be here long anyway. An hour at the most would be my guess…I'm sure the cult won't want to wait once they know where you are."

Harry could only stare hatefully back at him, watching as both the Skeins disappeared. After one last nod and a triumphant smile, Oren disapparated as well, leaving Harry alone, surrounded by the ominous mist.

After several minutes of twisting and thrashing against the unyielding restraints, Harry finally gave up. His wrists were screaming in pain and the bonds were now so tight that his fingertips were cold and numb.

Leaning his head back against the rough surface of the tree, Harry took a deep breath, trying to clear his head, and stop his heart from pounding so fiercely. As he shifted his gaze to the fog surrounding him, watching it hover just on the border of the clearing, he almost wanted the Shadow Walkers to come, if it meant leaving this place. Something was moving, he could hear it creeping about, cloaked in the mist, and prayed it decided to remain there.

Wanting to shake the thoughts from his head, he glanced up at the sky, but the fog was mostly covering that as well, and he couldn't even tell how late in the day it was. The fear that had been gnawing at the back of his mind was pushing steadily forward; the full moon was tonight, and he didn't have the potion…

Feeling an utter sense of hopelessness gradually consuming him, Harry sunk slowly to the ground, the rough bark of the tree scraping harshly against his back and arms, but he didn't care. He couldn't do this, he couldn't give in now…as long as he was alive there was still a chance…

Needing to occupy his mind with something, Harry thought back once more to the previous night. To Troy. If he really was working with Adrik, Lilith and Oren…then why did he go sneaking around in the basement? What was he looking for? If Troy really was a Shadow Walker then why not simply have him take Harry to the others? Why go through all of this?

Besides that, Troy had been there at Hogwarts with him the whole time, if he wanted to take Harry then what was he waiting for? Harry wondered if maybe Troy had been the spy in his office, but that just didn't feel right…and nothing was making any sense…

Glancing around once more, Harry's breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell on the fog…it looked closer. Pushing himself back up into a standing position, as it was the only thing he could do, he waited, his heart racing in his chest, hoping it was only his imagination.

His fear rose up inside him however, as the fog continued to grow closer and closer, and he wondered if it would hurt…

Pressing his back into the tree, Harry slammed his eyes shut just before the fog touched his face, and suddenly he didn't feel the tree anymore. Losing his balance, he toppled over, hitting the ground shoulder first, and his eyes sprung open.

The fog was gone, and he was lying awkwardly on a soft patch of grass. There was a blue light encircling him, shining from above, but it was quickly fading, and he glanced up just in time to see the light snuff out, before there was nothing.

Struggling to get into an upright position without the use of his arms, Harry finally managed to sit up to see he was in a wooded area. The late afternoon sun was shining down on him, but it didn't look right. It was as if someone had put a grey colored screen up and the sun was barely managing to filter through…after a closer look around, Harry realized everything looked this way. The tree branches hung lifeless and dull, the leaves looking pasty and thin, the grass was green, but had a grayish tint, and strangely enough, felt too soft. There were birds fluttering about, and small animals skittering behind rocks or bushes, but they didn't look quite right either. There was no enthusiasm, no life…they simply moved because there was nothing else to do.

It was depressing and cold, wherever he was, but before another thought could cross his mind, the shadows cast by the trees began to move. Pulling away and raising up into the air, the grey forms took shape, and Harry inhaled sharply. The Shadow Walkers had arrived.

With sudden alarm, Harry stumbled to his feet, nearly losing his balance, and began stepping away quickly, having no place to go but not caring. He again tried to free his hands, struggling frantically against the bonds, to no avail. And they closed in on him.

Harry didn't fight as they pulled him through the trees, trying to move quickly so they weren't dragging him along. They walked in silence, and after nearly half an hour had passed, they emerged from the woods.

Harry didn't know what he'd expected, but this hadn't been it. There were houses…houses with chimneys and windows and doors…it was a like small village…a village in the middle of a forest that nobody knew about. There were no shops and such, but there was what looked like a church at the end of the group of houses, and a water-well just beside it. Beyond that, Harry could see a pale blue glow that looked so very far away barely shimmering through the trees, but nothing more. Everything here looked dismal as well…grey and sad.

The shadows holding him started forward at once, pulling him out to the clearing in the middle of the village, where others were gathered, waiting. They came to an abrupt halt, and released Harry, thrusting him forward to his knees, before stepping back. Harry looked up at the ones in front of him, doing all he could to mask his fear, his heart pounding so fiercely he would swear they could hear it. When one of them moved slowly forward, he steeled himself, having no idea what it was going to do, but it didn't touch him. Instead, it lowered itself down beside him, and Harry once again saw the face of the brown-haired man staring intently back at him.

"And at last, the traitor arrives," the shadow said, sneeringly, enjoying the wariness in Harry's eyes as he wrenched him to his feet. He flinched back as the Shadow Walker raised a hand to his face, but was relieved as he felt the gag being pulled out, and started coughing roughly the moment it was gone. The Shadow Walker didn't care, however, and simply took him by the arm, jerking him forward through the crowd of shadows.

Harry didn't dare ask any questions, and could only pray they would listen to him if he was even given a chance to speak. He moved along quickly with the shadow holding him, cold dread in the pit of his stomach, as they made their way immediately towards the pale blue glow.

They didn't go very far into the trees to reach the source of the light, however, and Harry stared in awe at the sight before him. The blue glow visible from the clearing rose to the tops of the trees, forming a perfect circle on the ground. There were seven towering marble pillars spaced evenly around the edge of the circle, and standing in the center, beside a round, shimmering, crystal platform, was another Shadow Walker.

As they crossed through into the light, Harry felt a sudden searing pain tear through him, and was unable to fully stifle his anguished cry as he stumbled. But the shadow holding him simply snickered in amusement, keeping him up and not stopping, continuing towards the center of the circle.

Harry's vision blurred sickeningly and he quickly found it hard to breathe as the pain steadily increased. When the Shadow Walker finally released him as they reached the other one, he immediately collapsed in a gasping heap at his feet.

"Castor," came the quiet, even voice of this new Shadow Walker. "I told you no games yet, I need him conscious in order to speak with him, correct?" With that, Harry felt a soft touch on his arm, and the pain stopped at once. He began breathing deeply, blinking his eyes against the sweat that had run into them, wishing he could wipe it away, and glanced up at this new face.

An older man's face stared back at him through the shadows. He had a small smile on his dry, thin lips, but no compassion in his eyes, no kindness. He looked at Harry as if he were worth no more than a bug that he would crush if only it would stop jumping out of the way.

Harry shuddered involuntarily, fighting off another wave of panic.

"He deserves it," Castor spat hatefully, glaring down at Harry.

"Castor…"

"Have you seen what you've done?" Castor continued angrily, ignoring the older Shadow Walker as his eyes flashed dangerously. "Are you happy now?" he went on, grabbing Harry's arms and shouting in his face. "Look at what you're causing!"

"Castor, let him go now," the older shadow spoke sternly, "leave me to speak with him."

"But Pollux…" Castor began, an infuriated expression on his face.

"I will speak with him first," Pollux cut in firmly. "Now leave."

Castor released Harry, an indignant sneer on his face as he slowly backed away.

"I'll be back soon," he stated intently, nodding as if to confirm this to Pollux, before backing out of the circle.

Harry didn't move, feeling Pollux's eyes on him, and having no idea what to expect. The only thing he was sure about, was that he wasn't the person they were looking for…though getting them to believe that seemed like it might be an impossible task…

"It's been a very long time, hasn't it?" Pollux spoke up then, his tone relaxed and laced with venom.

"Since…since when?" Harry stammered, finally looking up to meet the Shadow Walker's icy blue eyes.

"Since we last spoke," Pollux replied simply.

"I don't…I…I can't say I remember speaking with you before now…" Harry replied jaggedly.

"Really," Pollux relied dryly. "Such a shame, your memory is going in your old age, isn't it?"

"I…I'm not…I'm eighteen…" Harry replied, not sure if Pollux were being sarcastic and clueless as to how to respond.

"You might look that way to the rest of your kind," Pollux began slowly, "but here that doesn't matter, does it? We can sense you…"

Harry didn't reply, distantly remembering that Dumbledore had once told him the shadows couldn't see him…they saw his shadow; everything else was based on scent.

"No matter, you lie all you like about your age…it doesn't make any difference to me…"

"I'm not lying," Harry interrupted determinedly, willing Pollux to believe him. "I don't know who you're after…but I've never seen you before…we've never spoken…and I honestly don't know what you want…"

Pollux's eyes narrowed darkly, and without a word he reached out, wrenching Harry to his feet and pulling him towards the platform. Harry tried to stay calm, not knowing what to expect, when a sudden eruption of light and smoke burst from the center of the crystal circle. The air cleared quickly, and Harry could see blue flames flickering softly and silently, remaining in the one location.

Without warning, Pollux grabbed his wrists, spinning him harshly around, but seconds later Harry felt the bonds loosen and the circulation gradually started moving through his fingers once again. His relief over this was short-lived, however, as Pollux kept a strong grip on his right arm, and thrust Harry's hand forward into the flames.

Stifling a scream that was threatening to burst forth, Harry gritted his teeth, unable to pull away as the Shadow Walker left his hand in the small blaze. He was dimly aware that it wasn't his hand that was in pain; it was his wrist, just under his thumb…

After several agonizing seconds that stretched on for ages, Pollux jerked Harry's arm back from the flames, and spun it harshly before gesturing towards his wrist. The mark of the cult was there, bright and clear as day.

"There," he spat darkly. "You see? Your disguises will never help you…because that mark I can see…so you may as well stop lying, it will only make things worse for you."

"You don't understand," Harry said shakily, "that's not real-" he cut off abruptly as Pollux tightened his grip painfully, but he wasn't going to give up. "It was put there…by a death eater…" he cringed, feeling wave after wave of pain shoot up his arm…until finally, Pollux released his grip, pushing him away. Harry stumbled backwards, taking in shaky gasps of air, holding his right arm close to him.

"No one can replicate that mark," Pollux stated fiercely. "It would be impossible."

"It isn't," Harry said, shaking his head faintly. "A man put it there a few months ago…he made me drink a potion, it looked like a blue flame but I…"

"No," Pollux cut him off sharply. "You're lying…just more of your games."

"I swear I'm not…" Harry said quietly, but slowly losing hope. Pollux seemed positively determined not to believe him. For a few moments, there was only silence between the two, and Harry waited…

"So this man who supposedly did this to you…he is a death eater?" Pollux asked stiffly.

"Yes," Harry nodded.

"Yes," Pollux repeated. "A death eater…I've heard that term before…death eaters work for you, don't they? Yes…I remember…"

"What?" Harry barely managed to blurt out, too shocked for a moment to utter anything else. "I don't…I…no…I don't work with any death eaters…and none of them work for me…the only times I'm around them they're usually trying to kill me…"

"So you've upset them as well, have you?" Pollux asked, sounding faintly amused.

"I was never on good terms with them to begin with," Harry stated, wondering if Pollux was saying what he thought he was. But it didn't make sense…

"Who do you think I am?" Harry asked at last.

"Have you forgotten your name?" Pollux asked wryly.

"No, but I don't think you know my real name," Harry said quickly, and continued before he could stop himself. "I'm not Tom Riddle…I'm not Voldemort…"

Pollux visibly paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes at Harry, before speaking again.

"I think we've spent enough time with this game, Jared," he spat icily. "Now I'm going to ask you a question, and you have only one chance to tell me the truth."

"Jared?" Harry repeated, his eyes going wide with alarm. The only time he'd heard that name used before…with any great significance behind it…was when Dumbledore had told him about Grindelwald. "My name isn't Jared…It's Harry," he said quickly. "Harry Potter."

"More of your lying…"

"I'm not lying!" Harry cried earnestly. "My name isn't Jared…"

"Enough!" Pollux shouted suddenly. "You're only delaying the inevitable."

Harry didn't know what to do, his mind was racing but nothing was making sense. How could they confuse him for Grindelwald? The dark wizard had been dead long before Harry was even born…

"Now, if you're quite finished," Pollux spoke again, sounding impatient. "Before you die for your traitorous actions…you're going to tell me where the Orb is."

Harry could feel his stomach twisting, he felt like he might be sick. He just didn't know how to convince Pollux this was a mistake…if they couldn't see him, then they were either lying about being able to sense Jared…or something else had been done to him…though he hadn't the slightest clue what it was…

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry finally said, as it was the only answer he had. He did remember speaking about the Orb…back during his first discussion with Dumbledore and Marzia telling him about the cult. It was their source of power, if he remembered correctly…what kept them alive…

"Very well," Pollux nodded grimly. "I warned you, you only had one chance…"

"It's the truth," Harry said sincerely. "I don't know where the Orb is…I've never even seen what it looks like!"

"The mark on your wrist never would have appeared in the flames if you hadn't at least touched the Orb," Pollux said curtly.

"I told you, this is a fake," Harry said fiercely, gesturing to his wrist. "I swear I'm telling you the truth about the Orb…but I want to help you find it…"

"Then tell me where you've taken it," Pollux hissed darkly.

"I didn't take it," Harry said quietly, feeling the fear within him building, knowing no matter what he said, it was doing no good. Pollux simply glared at him, before raising his eyes and glancing towards the sky. Harry followed his gaze, realizing there was probably less than an hour until the sun was set…and he felt only despair…

"We are finished here," Pollux said stiffly. He turned to his right, nodding faintly, and Harry saw several Shadow Walkers creep out of the darkness under the trees, moving slowly into the circle. They hesitated in front of Pollux for just a moment, before turning towards Harry, taking his arms and forcing him to start walking. Pollux remained silent and despite knowing it was useless, Harry struggled against his captors, as they headed swiftly back towards the village…

"Has he told you?" Castor asked at once, looking intently at Pollux as Harry was dragged once more into the clearing between the houses.

"No," Pollux replied gravely. The two turned to face their captive, who was being forced to his knees on the soft ground.

Castor advanced on Harry, who didn't so much as flinch when the Shadow Walker bent down in front of him, their faces inches apart.

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded angrily.

"I'm not…" Harry began, straining to keep his voice calm. "I haven't done anything. I've never even seen the Orb."

Castor's face came into perfect view for a fleeting second, and he grabbed Harry's right arm, jerking it upwards so he could see his wrist. Harry was surprised to see the mark hadn't faded this time…it was still showing clearly, a bright blue glow just below his thumb.

"You're lying," Castor snarled, dropping Harry's hand as if it were poisonous, while the shadows once again masked his face.

"Castor," Pollux's stern voice spoke up, "I've given him his chance…"

But Castor paid no attention. Reaching up, he roughly grabbed a handful of Harry's hair, turning his head and forcing him to look to his right.

"See them?" Castor hissed, nodding at several figures standing a few feet away. They were all wearing dark hooded cloaks, and Harry's mind began racing with unpleasant possibilities for who they might be…they didn't look like Shadow Walkers.

"Yes," Harry replied stiffly, trying not to wince as he was briefly lifted up off the ground by Castor's painfully harsh grip.

"You are killing them," he spoke each word with vicious clarity, "they won't last a year without the Orb, and it's nearly been that long. If you let that happen I will-"

"Do nothing," Pollux interrupted darkly. "I've already decided what his fate shall be, Castor. Now release him, there is little time left."

"What?" Castor asked with undisguised shock…and disappointment. But Pollux made no reply, turning instead to one of the nearby Shadow Walkers.

"Are the Sagons near?"

"One of them," the shadow replied swiftly, "no more than two miles from the gate."

"You're going to let the Sagons have him?" Castor asked, angrily. "You call that justice?"

"It's what he deserves," Pollux replied maliciously, his icy blue eyes glaring emotionlessly down at Harry.

"Who are the Sagons?" Harry asked, hiding the fear in his voice, but not in his eyes. Pollux grinned humorlessly.

"Memory giving you problems again, is it Jared?"

"I'm not Jared!" Harry shouted finally, letting some of the anger at what was being done to him out at last. "I don't know how to prove that to you because you won't listen to anything I say…but I'm not him! I haven't touched your Orb; I've never even seen it! But I swear if you'll just let me go…I'll do everything I can to help you get it back."

The shadows seemed oblivious to his outburst, however, brushing it off as if he hadn't spoken. Pollux turned again to the others nearby, speaking to them in hushed tones, while Castor kept attempting to interject. Harry could feel the panic consuming him, and was barely able to hold it off any longer. His hands were shaking and he felt cold, hard dread in his gut…there was no way out of this…

A few short minutes later, Harry found himself being wrenched once again to his feet, and pulled back through the forest the way they'd come. Castor and Pollux remained in the village, arguing, neither one bothering to even spare a second glance in his direction as he disappeared into the trees.

They were moving much faster this time, and Harry simply couldn't keep up, his feet half dragging under him as they sped back to the clearing he'd first arrived in. They dumped him back on the soft grass as if they couldn't be rid of him quickly enough, and Harry didn't even have time to get to his feet, before he was bathed in a pale ray of blue light.

The world before him spun suddenly and sickeningly, and he shut his eyes against it, pressing his head into his knees and waiting.

When he finally dared to open his eyes several minutes later, the motion had stopped, but the sight that was now before him sent an icy chill down his spine. He was back where Oren had left him, in the small circular clearing, surrounded by the thick fog.

Before he could begin to think of what to do, the same low, menacing rumble from earlier filled the air once again, and Harry scrambled hastily to his feet, trying to look everywhere at once, his eyes wide, his pulse racing…

Without any warning, something lunged out from the thick fog at Harry, and he barely caught the movement from the corner of his eye, before diving out of the way, skidding roughly along the ground and immediately jumping back up.

He felt a cold panic grip him, and did all he could to force it down, as he instinctively began stepping away from the creature before him…the Sagon.

At first glance, Harry almost thought it was a skeleton, but as the creature raised itself up, its shiny black eyes boring into him, he could see it was much more terrifying than that.

It had a gaunt, seemingly emaciated frame with pale, sickly, semi-transparent skin, and walked with a hunch. Its head was elongated, with thin, dark holes for its nose and mouth. But Harry could see it was strong, its wiry muscles showing with the creature's every movement.

His mind took all of this in within seconds however, before focusing on what was truly causing his near panicked state. Each of the creature's thin fingers ended in a two-foot-long claw, which were dragging on the ground in the Sagon's wake, as its arms hung at its sides. Harry noticed with faint horror, that the claws were stained…

Finally forcing himself to tear his gaze away from the Sagon, Harry looked around wildly, for something…anything…that might help him. He could go into the fog, but Pollux had asked the others if the Sagons were near…more than one…and he didn't fancy the idea of running around blind with more of these things…

Before another thought could even enter his mind, the Sagon lunged again; there had been no warning, no predatory growl. It was standing still one minute, and the next it made its move.

Harry let out an anguished cry as one of the steel-like claws ripped through him. He felt blood immediately soaking his clothes just under his ribcage, on the right…and wondered, distantly, if it had punctured his lung, as he began to gasp for air, feeling nauseas as he tasted the coppery liquid. The creature jerked its arm painfully free of him, and Harry at once tried to step away, but his vision was blurring, and he staggered drunkenly back and forth, sweat soaking his body as he shivered.

This was the end, he could feel it…and despite knowing full well there was no hope…none at all…that he would live through this…he held on. Part of him wanted nothing more than to give up…to lie down, crawl into a ball, and let the Sagon have him…but he refused.

A sudden stabbing pain in his stomach caused Harry to double over, falling to his knees as anguished tears began streaming down his face from the torture. He realized it didn't hurt as much this time, and wondered what the creature had hit…when he became dimly aware that the Sagon had not struck again.

Harry felt another searing streak tear through him…and another…and for the first time since he'd felt it nearly a year ago, was glad. It was happening…he was changing. The full moon had come at last.

For several long moments, Harry was aware of nothing other than the pain. He didn't know or care if the Sagon was closing in on him once again, because next to what he was feeling, it was of little importance.

Thick, coarse, dark hairs had begun to push through his skin, he could see it on his hands and feel it on his face. His body began to twist mercilessly, and Harry clenched his teeth against the screams fighting to be let out. His hands became gnarled, his fingertips bending themselves into his palms as the bones molded together, his knuckles grew out, and long, deadly claws sliced through from under his skin, becoming very large paws. His upper body grew tight, muscular, his bones continuing to grind agonizingly against and into one another, his clothes ripping and shredding with each passing second. His feet shifted painfully as well, tearing his shoes apart, while his lower half twisted and turned, becoming hind legs.

The throbbing in his head was glaringly escalated and his glasses slipped away, falling to the soft ground, as his face began to change. He couldn't hold it in any longer, letting out a tormented scream as his bones pushed out, elongating his jaw, his nose flattening and stretching to become a snout, his ears growing larger, his eyes rolling madly in his head…and near the end of it all, he experienced something he'd never felt before. Something was pushing at him, moving him away from himself…the pain slowly began to fade, but so did everything else. His vision blurred and darkened, the sounds he was making diminished, and after only seconds, everything was black, and Harry didn't have even the smallest amount of strength left to fight this feeling off. Harry Potter faded into unconsciousness, and the werewolf was born.

The Sagon had watched the transformation curiously, and was now staring readily at the animal before it. Raising its deadly claws, he prepared to attack.

The werewolf needed little time to become oriented with its surroundings, and took the creature standing nearby as an immediate threat. Baring its teeth, its piercing green eyes flashing hungrily, and paying no attention to the gaping wound on its own chest, the wolf let out a vicious snarl, before running forward, and leaping at the danger.

The Sagon struck as well, swinging out with its claws, catching the wolf on its left side and slamming it to the ground. The wolf yelped in pain, but was barely down for a second before it was back on its feet, and wasted no time before lunging once more.

The weight of the Sagon's enormous claws slowed its movements, and it wasn't prepared for this instant retaliation. A flash of fear went through its shiny black eyes, as the wolf let out a terrifying bellow and was upon him, taking him to the ground.

But the Sagon wouldn't give in so easily, attempting to continue with the momentum of the fall, hoping to roll the wolf off of him, or at least get him in an awkward position so that he might attack, but the wolf was ready. It latched its deadly fangs onto the Sagon's upper arm, pulling the creature with it as they rolled end over end, coming to a halt near the border of the fog.

Suddenly the Sagon emitted a noise, a high-pitched, ear-shattering scream, and the wolf yelped in pain, releasing its hold and ducking its head, trying madly to shield itself from the sound. It continued for over a minute, and when it finally went silent, the Sagon was back on its feet, ready once again to attack.

Still slightly disoriented, the wolf staggered back to its feet, looking up just in time to see the razor-sharp claws of the creature nearly upon him. Reacting at once, the wolf attempted to dodge, leaping to its right, but it was a second too late, howling in anguish as a sharp, searing pain ripped through its left hind leg.

The Sagon let out its own cry, sounding triumphant, and raised its other clawed hand to finish the deed, but the wolf was not about to give up, and with a startling burst of strength, tore free of the steel blade in its leg and turned, leaping ferociously into the air. The Sagon couldn't react quickly enough, a gleam of utter shock in its eyes as the wolf took him down.

The battle was over quickly then, as it is most impossible for any living creature to continue on without the use of its throat, and the wolf let out a triumphant howl as it stood over the lifeless body of the Saigon.

The victory celebration was short-lived, however, as the wolf immediately went silent, detecting movement from the surrounding fog.

Stepping back into the center of the clearing, alert and ready, the wolf waited for this new foe to show itself. It let out a low, rumbling growl, preparing itself to attack, when several figures emerged from the fog.

Sagons, six of them, stepped out from all directions, creeping along, hunched over, their claws scraping against the ground, dragging as they moved. The wolf turned in circles on the spot; waiting for one of them to move, ready to lunge. The Sagon nearest the dead body stared down at it through its shiny eyes, before letting out a scream of rage. They were too late; their comrade was already dead.

They turned on the beast that had murdered one of their own, howling and screaming, raising their claws and closing in on him. The wolf, full well knowing he was outnumbered, was prepared to go down fighting. Baring his teeth, he spun around, before sprinting forward, and lunging at the closest Sagon…but something happened.

A blue light lit the entire clearing, and the wolf simply stopped, hovering mid-leap and unable to get down. The Sagons had been halted as well, frozen where they stood, dangerously close to the wolf, but while they were entirely immobilized, the wolf continued to struggle, trying to free itself from the invisible hold.

A new figure, masked in shadows, appeared in the circle, seeming to rise up from within the ground, and immediately started towards the wolf. It reached the furious, snarling beast and simply glared at it hatefully, before raising a hand.

The wolf snapped its jaws, trying unsuccessfully to sink its teeth into this stranger's fingers, but with its limited movement, tasted only the air.

The shadow finally touched the wolf's coarse fur, and his hand started to glow. It was very pale at first, but soon becoming a deep blue…and then nearly black. The wolf felt a pulling sensation from within, like something was being sucked out of its being, before suddenly feeling a harsh, terrible twisting…as its bones began grinding against one another, and its flesh began stretching.

Harry was torn from his peaceful state of nothingness and thrust back into himself, a shock of pain and agony awaiting him. He couldn't even find the voice to scream as his mouth opened in a silent cry, while his arms and legs once again became human…his face shrunk back to its normal size, and his senses returned to him in full.

Fumbling around shakily, feeling cold and sick, Harry slowly glanced around through hazy vision, and began crawling towards the heap of rags that was his clothes, every tiny movement sending wave after wave of pain through him. The wound under his ribs was still bleeding, though not as badly as before, but now his left knee was in agony as well, having been shattered by the first Sagon's steel-like claws. He reached the pile, and pulled on the tattered garments as best he could, then began feeling around for his glasses.

Before he could find them, however, he felt someone take his arm, dragging him to his feet, and his glasses were thrust back into his hands. At first, Harry nearly collapsed right back to the ground, his legs buckling, unable to support his own weight, but whoever was holding him forced him to remain standing. As he shakily slipped the glasses on, Harry's jaw dropped in shock, seeing Castor's face glaring back at him.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice so dry and rough it was nearly inaudible. Castor made no reply however, and Harry watched as the world around them changed, the frozen circle of Sagons becoming the forest just outside the small village. Glancing up, Harry had to do a double take to assure himself he'd seen correctly. The full moon was still glowing brightly in the sky above.

"How?" he asked as Castor kept his grip tight, jerking him forward as they started into the trees.

"Quiet!" Castor spat, furiously, and would say nothing more. Harry didn't argue, standing had been bad enough, but being forced to walk on his injured leg was causing so much pain he thought he might pass out, and he began to see dark spots fading in and out of view. They moved silently back towards the village, and by the time they were nearly there, Harry was simply letting his left leg drag, lacking the strength to use it any longer.

The village seemed empty when they arrived, and Castor continued past the main clearing, forcing Harry forward ruthlessly, heading back towards the blue glow. But before they made it halfway there, a voice spoke up from just behind them, and it sounded most displeased.

"What have you done?" Pollux asked darkly, and Castor spun both he and Harry around, meeting the icy blue eyes of the older Shadow Walker.

"It wasn't enough," Castor spat angrily. "He deserves worse than that…"

"It would have been over now if you hadn't interfered!" Pollux hissed furiously.

"Which is exactly why I interfered!" Castor shouted back at him. "Why should he die in just minutes while we're going to suffer for years?!"

"So what is it you want then?" Pollux asked stiffly. "For him to live as long as we do?"

"No," Castor replied. "But long enough for him to wish he had died at the gate."

Pollux seemed to consider this for a moment, and Harry noticed other Shadow Walkers creeping into the clearing with them now, as well as several of the hooded figures he'd seen before. One of them started slowly towards Pollux, stopping just beside the old Shadow Walker, and he turned slightly. They spoke briefly, and Harry could see the figure gesturing towards him as it spoke, but he couldn't make out a word of their conversation, and could only feel cold dread, wondering what they would do to him.

"I'm bringing him down," Castor spoke up impatiently, not waiting for their discussion to end.

"Castor," Pollux began warningly, looking quickly away from the figure he was speaking with.

"If you want to discuss this, fine," Castor said sharply. "We'll talk while he's in the cellar…"

With that, Harry finally found his voice again.

"The cellar?" he asked warily, hating himself for allowing his voice to shake. He'd somehow lived through the Sagons, and was actually quite relieved he couldn't remember what happened, knowing he had no control over his actions as a werewolf…and now here he was, back to human form, the full moon blaring down on him…weak and bleeding…but somehow, alive…

"You stay silent!" Castor hissed, hatefully.

"Castor," Pollux began, acting as if Harry hadn't spoken. "What point is there in…?"

"You know he deserves this," Castor stated simply, then without waiting for a reply, he turned on the spot, dragging Harry along with him, moving quickly. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing no one moving to stop Castor. He wasn't entirely surprised, but hadn't exactly expected Pollux to let Castor just disobey him…as his impression of the situation was that Pollux was the cult's leader…

They moved towards the blue light again, but turned at the short path near the church instead, leading to the large double doors. Harry could only stare in confusion, having no idea what was going on as Castor pulled him into the enormous room beyond. There were pillars and arches…ceilings that stretched up at least sixty feet, beautiful stained glass windows…pews and confessionals…it appeared to be so peaceful, serene…just as any other church Harry had ever set foot in. He glanced nervously at Castor as they walked quickly towards the front of the church, but veered to the right before they reached the alter, and pushed through a black doorway, far off to the side.

Harry limped painfully down a flight of winding stairs while Castor refused to slow, when at last they came to the bottom, and there were three doors. Castor reached immediately for the one to his right, and Harry was brought into a very small room, lit dimly by seven candles that lined the walls. There was a door with a tiny rectangular slot in it just below eye level, and Harry knew before Castor began moving, that was his destination.

"Wait…" he began insistently.

"Have a nice rest," Castor replied icily, wrenching the door open and thrusting Harry forward. His shoulder slammed painfully into the wall much sooner than he expected to feel it, and Harry felt the wind of the door being slammed shut behind him, before a heavy lock was heaved into place on the opposite side.

His leg was screaming, and sweat was stinging his eyes, but he realized with dawning horror, as Castor's footsteps moved swiftly away, that he could do nothing about either one. The room he was in, if you could call it that, was barely as wide as he was…the walls were so tight around him he couldn't so much as lift his arms or bend his legs. It was like a standing coffin.

Feeling panic begin to take hold, Harry forced his quick breathing to even out; to slow down…it would only make things worse if he went that route. He tried to think of something else…anything…that would take away from the claustrophobic feeling of this box he was trapped in.

He wasn't sure what was worse, being left to the Sagons, or the dry, dark prison he was being forced to stand in…however…at least nothing in here was trying to kill him…he just had to last until they took him out…and he prayed it wouldn't be too long…

After several minutes, however, Harry's eyelids began to droop…he was overcome suddenly with the want…the need…to sleep…

Harry strained to keep his eyes open, knowing this wasn't right. He was tired…exhausted…more so than he'd ever been in his life, but the feeling of drowsiness that was creeping upon him now wasn't natural.

The little strength he had left, however, wasn't enough to fight this off, and seconds later, Harry's head rolled limply forward, coming to rest against the wall, as he faded into a fitful state of unconsciousness.

With a bright rush of colors, he was suddenly a little boy again, standing in the kitchen at Privet Drive. His aunt and uncle were yelling at him…he didn't know what for, but it was nothing he wasn't used to. They screamed angrily, telling him how useless he was, good for nothing, should never have been born, and it went on and on…but then the image changed.

His aunt and uncle became his mother and father, but the insults didn't stop, they only grew worse. The voices coming from his parents' mouths weren't their own, but that of Dumbledore and Sirius, and he shook his head sadly, pleading with them to take back their harsh words, promising he would change. They looked upon him with pitiless eyes however, saying they wished he'd died when he was supposed to…

Privet Drive vanished quickly, everything spinning to become Hogwarts, the very first day he'd ever been there. He was in the great hall for the sorting ceremony; only it was Snape calling out the names rather than McGonagall. When it was his turn, the potions master smiled maliciously at him, calling out snidely for all to hear: The boy who lived!

Harry glanced around nervously at all the eyes upon him, not wanting to go up to the front, but getting a push from the students around him. He slid anxiously onto the stool and Snape put the sorting hat down over his eyes. The conversation that played in his mind was exactly as before, only in the end, the hat didn't agree with him, and instead shouted out the name of Slytherin to the entire school.

Feeling his heart sink, he slipped woefully off the seat, glancing up at Snape, whose eyes were flashing hungrily, a triumphant gleam within them. Ron was staring at Harry in disgust as he passed, and before he could utter one word to his friend, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle surrounded him, ushering him towards his seat…at the Slytherin table. He stared miserably across the room, trying to ignore the taunting and jeering of those around him, when Dumbledore stood. The headmaster made his way silently towards Harry, everyone watching closely, and when he reached the young boy he leant down and whispered, his eyes twinkling: You'll do well in Slytherin, it is where you were meant to be…

The picture in his mind swirled out of focus, sliding into place again to show the Chamber of Secrets. Ginny was lying on the ground, barely breathing, and Tom Riddle stood nearby, holding tightly to his wand.

The basilisk was called, and while everything within him told him to run, Harry remained in place. He glanced at Tom Riddle, who was sneering wickedly at him, before turning to face the large serpent. The big yellow eyes were on him, but nothing happened…he didn't die, he wasn't petrified, and the snake seemed taken aback by this. Harry leapt at the opportunity, his heart racing.

He called out to the basilisk, and it listened. Glancing hatefully towards Tom Riddle…towards Voldemort, Harry set the serpent after him. The dark memory from the diary looked frightened, and stepped back quickly, all the while demanding the snake obey him, to no avail. When the large serpent was nearly upon him, a shrill cry erupted through the chamber…and it came from Ginny Weasley.

Harry spun to see the young girl had woken with a start, and was screaming at the top of her lungs for Harry to stop…he couldn't do this! Harry only stared back at her confused, not realizing the basilisk had set its eyes on a new target. The last thing he saw as the vision began to fade, was the head of the enormous serpent crashing hungrily down upon the small girl, her screams being instantly silenced…

Dementors surrounded him, while at the same time he stared at himself from behind the bushes, waiting for whoever had cast the Patronus to do it again. The sudden knowledge that it had been him came rushing to him with such speed he jumped out from his hiding place, and raised his wand, shouting out the words that would produce the silver charm.

But it never came. Instead, a figure clad in black emerged from the tip of his wand, and Harry stepped back fearfully, seeing he had just conjured another dementor before him. He immediately felt the horrible cold as the dementor reached towards him, and was overcome with weakness, hearing his mother's screams replaying in his mind. The dementor didn't try to kiss him though, instead, it turned him back to the see the other him, and Harry felt only cold despair.

His past self was passed out in the grip of the dementor holding him, and he watched in terror as the vile creature clamped its mouth over his own. Harry tried to look away, not wanting to watch his own soul being sucked out, but couldn't even blink as the scene before him continued to play…feeling his life draining away as the dementor performed its deadly kiss…

With a sudden jolt, the image was gone, and Harry could now see the graveyard before him…where he had witnessed Voldemort's rebirth. Wormtail was blubbering alongside the cauldron, cradling his stump against his chest, while Harry saw a figure rise from the cauldron for the second time…only it wasn't Voldemort. Harry's eyes widened in fright, as he saw his own eyes glaring back at him, glinting maliciously…

The image spun sickeningly, and he was in the forest with the Zlam…they were ready to kill him to reclaim their knowledge. Without thinking, the answer came to him…but this time he didn't disapparate.

The knowledge within him suddenly filled his mind, awakening from its dormant state and becoming part of him. He lashed out at the Zlam, Forden, Tytros…all of them. He used the knowledge, not caring that it was killing him, but unable to stand how unfairly he was being treated by these creatures who supposedly didn't take sides… Bodies were dropping everywhere…

Everything went dark, and Harry was standing before Voldemort; Lucius and Gridman on either side…Cho only a few feet away, crying. He wanted to comfort her, but no words left his mouth, and he watched emotionlessly as she was executed before his eyes, for the second time.

As she fell through the air, her lifeless form took on Remus' shape, and Harry saw him hit the floor hard, a sinewy tether protruding from his chest. Before a grief-stricken Harry could rush to his friend's side, it started over. Only this time Voldemort shot at Harry, and Remus knocked him out of the way, falling to the ground and becoming Cedric.

And over again, Voldemort cast the deadly curse at Cho, but this time Harry broke free…and he pushed Neville in the curse's path.

And again…he was in the room, Cho, Cedric, Neville and Remus stood before him…and Harry stared back at them blankly, raising the wand in his hand…

In the small closet under the church in the village of the Shadow Walkers, Harry Potter was ready to break. He was shaking uncontrollably and crying out from the torment, feeling a painful sob welling up in his chest. He wanted so badly to just give in, to let this force have him…but part of his mind knew what he was seeing wasn't real…and he clung to that part with everything he had…terrified of what would happen should he let it slip…

The door to the box he was imprisoned in was unexpectedly pulled open then, and Harry felt as if he was being ripped in two as someone dragged him out into the adjacent room He cried out in anguish, which was immediately stifled, covered by the relief washing over him. The images were vanishing as if they'd never even existed.

The person who'd released him from the cell was still holding him up, and Harry's true memory was woken with a start as the events of the past 24 hours came rushing back to him. He felt the person gently lowering him to the floor, propping his back up against the nearest wall, and Harry tried to thank them, beyond grateful for this small act of kindness, but his throat was too dry, and he began choking violently on his words.

"Take it easy," the person said quickly, seeming a bit apprehensive.

The voice registered in Harry's memory immediately, though he didn't believe his own ears…it simply couldn't be true…

Looking up, he saw the person was one of the dark, hooded figures he'd seen in the village, the ones Castor had been so concerned about, but he knew what he'd just heard, and when the coughing fit had finally passed, Harry didn't waste any time.

"Jack?" he asked, his voice dry and raspy as he strained to see a face under the hood. "Is that you?"