The Good Son

Chapter Fifteen

The Darkness Within

"A baby huh?" smiled Albus as he lay beside Cassiopeia, one arm loped around her body to hold her close. It was the last day of their honeymoon, the last day before they had to return to Britain and their lives, away from the peaceful serenity of Capri. They had spent three weeks on the Italian Island, blissfully lost in each other and forgetting the world around them, spending their days lazing around the beautiful beaches, the Faraglioni – those ethereal limestone crags which rose from the cresting sea, swimming in the Blue Grotto and exploring the ancient ruins of Roman Villa's. Albus had succeeded in achieving a light tan, Cass on the other hand had not been able to without burning her pale skin so had been forced to douse herself in magical sunscreen for their entire vacation. Still it did nothing to quell their enjoyment of the scenic paradise.

Their favorite place on the entire island was The Blue Grotto, the beautiful sea cave on the coast in which sunlight shone into the underwater cavity and through the seawater to create a brilliant blue reflection to illuminate the entire cavern. They spent days travelling there, simply basking in the unearthly realm, making love in the softly flowing waters.

At their last visit Albus had used his magic to ensure they would always have a piece of Capri to cherish other than their memories and the tourist memorabilia they had purchased. He had enchanted a single droplet of the water to settle within the emerald of Cassiopeia's wedding ring, so that the ring would always shine with that same oceanic light they had come to love.

"A baby," she agreed, smiling as she nestled against him in the silky sheets of their bed. She was three months pregnant now; too early to tell that the gender but she had a feeling it would be a boy. Apart from what she called mothers intuition, she knew that both Potter and Malfoy firstborns were always boys. She also profoundly hoped it would be a boy after her rather public pronouncement during their wedding vows. She giggled at the memory; Al had looked so stunned.

"You really scared me at the wedding when you said you loved another man," he said, as if guessing her thoughts, "But I agree now, is it wrong to say I may already love our kid as much as I love you?"

"It's not wrong," she replied, "It just tells me you're going to be a great dad."

"I hope so," he said seriously, his eyes slightly downcast as he turned away from her.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly, lifting her head of the pillows so that it rested on the side of his own, her chest flush against his bare back.

"What if I'm like my dad," he said quietly, "What if I end up like him . . . I don't want that Cassie, I don't want to be like him but what if it's in my blood?"

"Hey," she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek, "You're a better man than your father ever could be. You're going to be the best dad in the world because your blood doesn't define you. Your heart does . . . and Albus your heart is pure," she left the part about his bound Shadows unsaid.

"Thanks Cass," he murmured, shifting around again so that they were face to face, "So what are we going to call him? I quite like Albus Junior."

"You would, wouldn't you," she snorted, a highly unladylike sound, "No we are certainly not calling my son Albus junior."

"Your son?" asked Albus with raised eyebrows, "He's mine as well."

"When his father wants to name him Albus junior then he becomes my son," said Cassiopeia in a firm voice, the effect slightly diminished by the flush colouring her cheeks as his fingers twirled across her skin beneath the sheets.

"Then what do you propose?"

"I'd like to name him for a star," she admitted, "It's a family tradition but I need to check the books when I get home to refresh my memory about the constellations, I never was any good at astronomy." She quirked an eyebrow when she saw a thoughtful look appear in her husband's eyes.

"How about Leo?" asked Albus a few minutes of silence.

"Do you want our son to be a Gryffindork?" she asked playfully, "I like it though. Leo Albus Potter."

"I thought you didn't want to name him after me?" he teased, "I like it," he added after a while, laying a protective hand on her stomach which no showed of the tiniest of bulges.

"How about," she kissed him on the cheek, "We practice giving him," she kissed him on the nose, "A sibling," she finished with a third kiss on his lips.

(*)(*)(*)

James

Leave the country for a few weeks. I don't want you caught in the middle.

-Al

James stared blankly at the carefully folded parchment in his hands, his jaw quivering slightly as he read and reread the short statement. He closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Whatever his brother was planning it was big, perhaps some sort of grand coup-de-tat.

He wondered if he should warn his father.

Then he remembered a night long ago, when he had been fourteen years old and going to his room, only to see his father stumble drunkenly into his brother's room and bar the door. He remembered hearing the sharp crack of flesh slapping against flesh, remembered his father's raised voice as if it were only yesterday. He remembered the tears in his brother's eyes, the bruise that was slowly forming on his cheek.

He remembered a scared boy climbing into his big brothers bed after their father had made him bleed for the first time.

Sighing, he tossed the parchment into the fireplace, calling for his wife and announcing that they would be leaving the country immediately on business. As he had taken to the Quidditch field following being sacked from the Auror department, sudden travel plans when having to play abroad where often. Alison was lucky in that she worked from home and could often take extended periods of leave with no repercussions.

Whatever his brother had planned, James had no doubt his father – and the world – deserved it.

He just couldn't stop feeling the ache in his chest that screamed, "I deserve it too!"

(*)(*)(*)

Kat sighed as she got out of bed that morning, the room still dark in the early hours of the morning. She was nervous, terrified of what she had found in Xavier's drawer the previous day. She couldn't help it, that fluttery feeling that clung to her heart and filled her with a lingering sense of dread. She loved him, truly she did, more than she loved anyone. But she was scared.

The ring was simple but beautiful, silver set with a black diamond, dark as night and tempting as the shadows that existed in the absence of light. But she had seen her older brother's marriage implode and she was scared of the same thing happening to her and Xav. What they had was good – it was safe – and Kat, for all her daring and punkish, rebelling nature was terrified of the unknown.

Because that was what marriage entailed, the unknown, and it terrified her that she may end up losing him. Her brother had been truly in love with his girlfriend until they had been married and it all went to hell.

Xavier as he were represented safety, security and comfort. As a husband, she didn't know what would come. True they had been dating since their fifth year, when they both had finally succumbed to the carnal desires that had been festering between them and they had since built an extremely strong relationship. She trusted him with everything, her deepest fears and her most hidden secrets, she trusted him with her heart.

She gazed at the still sleeping man who shared her bed, he looked so innocent and childlike when he slept, his eyes closed, his dark hair falling across the pale grey of their pillows. He shifted in his sleep, his arm reaching for the empty side of the bed, already cold in her absence as he murmured her name, fumbling slightly when he couldn't feel her there.

So she asked herself the question, why had be bought the ring? That little silver band in its red velvet box, hidden away amidst his socks and boxers. She remembered posing the question to Albus after he proposed to Cass, why he had decided to marry her. He had simply shrugged and said, "I can't imagine my life without her, so I want her to be mine in every sense of the word just as I want to be hers."

She had rarely heard her friend speak so frankly from his heart.

Was that how Xav felt about her? She knew it was how she felt about him – but the fear of taking such a risk was there as well, especially after seeing how miserable her big brother, who had always been the strongest man she knew, had become after his divorce. Her eyes fluttered across the starry sky, the pale rays of dawn just beginning to peak across the horizon. The stars brought back memories of Al and Cassie's wedding – how Xavier had defended her at the reception.

"Hey handsome," said the slag, a blonde witch whom Kat did not know by name, but recognized as a fellow pureblood whose villa lay along the coast. Xavier had raised his eyebrows at her, Kat had clenched her fist and stood possessively close to her boyfriends side, glaring daggers at the witch.

"He's taken," snapped Kat, not at all liking the witch's flirty manner. The bitc– witch in question seemed to give her a quick once-over, her lip curling into a sneer at the sight of her pixie-cut and thrice pierced ears.

"I'm sure he can do much better than you though," she said with a simpering lilt that made Kat want to punch her in the face. She took a step forward, when suddenly she felt his restraining arm on her shoulder as he walked forward towards the witch. She seemed to smile in victory, Kat gave an involuntary twinge of jealousy.

"Honey," he said in that dark, cynical voice Kat recognised so well, the tone he used whenever he dealt out a particularly nasty insult, "There's nobody better than my girl, so I suggest you pull up your knickers and go back to your villa. We all know you only live near the sea so that your crabs can feel at home." The witch snarled and turned, her blonde her flipping like a whip as she stormed off and Xavier turned to place an arm around his girlfriend.

"Nobody messes with my girl," he simply said, before pulling her off to dance.

The memory brought a smile to her lips; he had called her the best girl in the world – he had called her his girl – even though she knew there were so many women out there who were more beautiful, less high maintenance than she was.

"Hey," his voice was heavy with sleep, "What are you doing up so early?"

"Just thinking," she replied, smiling softly as she turned back to him and climbed into bed. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder as he drifted back to dreamland, leaving Kat in his comforting arms. She sighed again, another set of memories drifting to the forefront of her mind.

"I love you," she said, feeling so very vulnerable as she spoke, their bodies still tangled in the aftermath of their lovemaking. She had been on her own for most of her life, always misunderstood because of her personality. She wasn't a girly girl like her sisters and cousins; but she was still a girl so her brothers didn't play with her either. Her parents had always loved her but they had always been slightly distant, unsure of how to act towards their rebellious daughter. She hadn't had many friends; she had so little in common with the people around her. There had always been that emptiness in her because of it, that need to have affection and friendship – which she had found in the Outcasts, which she had found in Xavier.

He was quiet for a long while and every second of silence made her regret saying her words a little more. It was true what they said, opening yourself to love also opens you to a world of hurt. Then he spoke, a voice so different from his usual cynic, so warm, a voice he reserved for her alone and the quiet moments they spent together.

"I love you too Kat," he had said, and then he held her for the rest of the night whilst she cried – half in relief, half in happiness, but mostly because she had never believed that she could be loved for who she was.

Yes, thought Kat as she snuggled closer to her boyfriend, her eyes drifting closed in the faint light of the oncoming dawn, Change was scary and marriage was a risk.

But Xavier was worth it.

(*)(*)(*)

Harry cursed loudly under his breath as he ran a comb through his hair that morning, his ire quickly returning as he recalled the events of the previous day. It was enough to make him see red and he had hoped that a night with Romilda would have diminished his rage. Unfortunately, whilst Romilda was beautiful and seductive as they came, there was one thing about her that always struck Harry.

She was not Ginny.

He would never forgive his son for causing his wife to divorce him, for in his mind it was Albus' fault that Ginny had left him. His fault for being a Slytherin and needing to be disciplined on a regular basis, his fault for being everything he had once fought against. At first he had thought that he had just lost a son to Slytherin, but overtime Albus had become a cancer to his family. The boy had rotted the relationship between Ginny and himself, had made his relationship with James and Teddy strained at best and had driven Lily to leave the country. How he cursed the day Ginny had labored to bring him into the world.

"You're up early," said Romilda in a sultry voice from the tangled sheets of his bed, the bed he had once shared with Ginny.

"I need to get into the office," he said roughly, unable to keep the anger out of his voice, "We need to get out numbers up, especially now that most of the bleeding Order refuses to take up arms against these fucking Outcasts."

Because that was the source of his bitter rage, that the people he had died for in the past refused to see the terrible danger their world was in. They refused to follow him, save for a few. Of course, they had made their excuses but what good did that do? They were cowards or snake-lovers, the lot of them.

Of the Weasleys his only support came from Ron and Percy. George had said that he would not be fighting against changes that should have happened years ago. Bill had claimed neutrality and Arthur had asked Harry if he truly expected that Molly and himself take up arms against their own grandson. It hadn't helped in the slightest that a vast majority had echoed George's sentiment and that he only could count on perhaps twenty people in all if it came to a fight.

Teddy had slammed the door on his face when he went to his godson's apartment to ask for his support. Ginny, no surprises there, the woman had truly been driven mad by Albus' Slytherin cunning had hit him with a bat-bogey hex.

"Come back to bed Harry," she murmured, "The Aurors will still be waiting for you in an hour." Her arms were covered in deep bruises, left there when he had gripped her too tightly. Her lips were swollen, her neck slightly bloody from where he had bitten too deeply. He was a harsh lover, her boss, but Romilda enjoyed the roughness. She was truly a masochist.

An hour later, maybe three, Harry cursed again because this time he was late for work. Showering quickly he made his way to the kitchen, downing a cup of coffee, so black it was bitter and so hot that it scalded his throat raw before turning to the door to put up the usual security charms. He could dimly hear Romilda in the shower upstairs, the silence save for the rushing water sounded strangely off; Ginny had always hummed in the shower. He cursed himself; he needed to stop fixating on the snake-loving bitch that was his ex-wife. She had chosen her side as he had chosen his.

Just then a patronus darted into the kitchen, a terrier leaping through the open window and fixing him with a playful look. Ron's voice on the other hand was anything but playful, it sounded tense and, dare he say it, scared.

"Harry! The Outcasts are taking the Ministry! And the witch leading them . . . It's Hermione!"

(*)(*)(*)

Kingsley Shacklebolt stared blankly at the pounding on his office door, his wand aimed at the dark wood as he trembled slightly, his nerves on because he knew who was blasting at the protective charms surrounding his office.

He had visited the boy's mother in hospital two days after he had been born, had held him just as he had held his brother before him, the same smile on his face as when he cradle his sister two years later. He had watched him grow, watched him toddle and then run, seen him turn from a bright, energetic, somewhat shy boy into a stranger, sunk so deep into the dark arts that it hurt to look upon him, especially for those who remembered the days when those emerald eyes had sparkled with curiosity rather than fear and hate.

He had known, how could he not, from the moment Albus had been in his third year that the boy had been practising dark magic. He had seen it in his eyes, he who had survived two wars and had led the aurors for years before eventually becoming Minister. He had let it go, seeing the glamour shrouded youth and knowing something was amiss because dammit he couldn't condemn a boy he had known he had still been a squalling infant.

He had seen the darkness die, pushed away by what wards he could scarce imagine but he knew that Albus had grown cold. How could he not, when his father scorned him at every turn, when his family neglected him more often than not.

He knew every child born to the Weasley family, that family of war heroes and close friends; and Albus had been the brightest of them all before becoming the first to fall.

But what was worse was that he agreed with the boy, he agreed with his ideology and his sue for the greater good. He himself had thought about it for years, seeing the oppression of the Slytherins but not daring do anything for fear of the public's outcry. It had been his greatest failing he now realised, that he had failed in his duty to keep his world safe from harm . . . by allowing them to shape their own worst enemies. Sooner or later all sins seem to catch up to the sinner, and his greatest sin had been turning a blind eye when he should have intervened.

Karma was a bitch, and now the wizarding world would reap was it had sowed for so very long.

He took in the image of himself, standing with his wand raised at the door like some scared housewife, afraid of what he himself had helped create. Shaking himself, he moved to sit behind his desk, wand placed on the calendar before him, grimly awaiting his fate with a solemn dignity.

The door crashed open, a smouldering wreck of tortured oak as three individuals stepped forward. He forced a smile to his face, now was not the time to be brazen, he must emulate Dumbledore, calm and nonchalant.

"By the amount of protection on your doorway, one would think you did not want to see me Minister," said Albus as he took a seat across from him. Draco and Scorpius Malfoy leaned against the opposite sides of the doorframe, a casual elegance playing about the purebloods that seemed out of place in the current circumstances.

"I prefer my guests make an appointment," said Kingsley, acknowledging his broken door with a tip of his head.

Albus chuckled dryly, "We're not here to kill you, if that's what you're worried about," he smirked and Kingsley barely repressed a shudder. Yes, he was afraid but not of Albus. Albus may have become many things but evil was not one of them. Kingsley knew what evil looked like; he had once looked into blood-red eyes and seen it, flickering in those hollowed sockets between bone-white skin and a serpentine skin. When he looked into Albus' eyes, all he saw was a boy who had been made to grow up too quickly and had suffered too much at the hands of those he had once loved. But beneath all that he saw love . . . and so Albus was not evil, he concluded, because that which is evil does not possess the ability to love.

"We are here to accept your resignation," continued Albus, "I have another position in mind for one such as you."

"And that is?" asked Kingsley, curious at the turn of events. He had not expected the Outcasts to be so civil – if one did not count the way they had broken into his office.

"The Auror Office will need a man of integrity and morality to lead them," said Albus, "You once flourished as Head Auror, perhaps it is time you returned to your former position."

"You would just let me walk into a position from which I can steadily oppose you?" he asked incredulously, his eyes wide.

"I am not a fool Kingsley," and the Minister noted the use of his first name, "You will make me the Unbreakable Vow to never take up arms or oppose my movement and I believe you to be a man of character. You may have been too blind to see the decay of society but I hope that we can put it behind us as we work for a better future."

Kingsley had truly not expected this; he nodded once before seeing the flaw in Albus' plan.

"There is already a Head Auror," he pointed out, though he was quite disgusted by that fact. The pure fact of the matter was that Harry had much more standing than he did, so when Harry had made Ron the Head Auror and had him acquitted of all charges there was nought that he could do.

"I believe my Aunt Hermione is dealing with him," said Albus with a lethal smirk, "She is quite vengeful when it comes to people who have hurt her children."

Kingsley gulped because there truly were very few things on earth that were more terrifying than an enraged Hermione Malfoy. Karma truly is a bitch, he thought as he raised his arm to make the Unbreakable Vow.

(*)(*)(*)

Ron dashed into his office, blood trickling down his face from the deep gash Hermione had inflicted upon him, barring the door with every defensive enchantment he knew. For good measure he swept his wand across the room to send his desk and bookshelf against the door, absurdly hoping it would be enough to keep his ex-wife out. She was coming after him; he could see it in her eyes the moment he had let fly the first curse, his jet of green light missing Hugo by an inch. He wondered absently at the back of his head why their enemy only stunned the Ministry's defenders – the Aurors had been fighting back with everything they had, killing curses and all.

"Hello Ron," a calm voice spoke from behind him and he whirled, he had no idea that there was already somebody in his office. His eyes widened at the sight before him, blond hair and silver flecked eyes of chocolate glaring at him menacingly. With a flick of her wand he was disarmed, his wand snapped in her grasp as she smirked – a decidedly Malfoyish look – and approached him.

"Aren't you going to apologise?" asked Rose, her eyes flickering with hate towards the man who had killed her child and prevented her from having more. The man she had spent over a decade calling daddy.

"For what?" snarled Ron, backing away, well aware that he was unarmed and that Rose was as skilled with a wand as her mother was.

Rose raised her eyebrows at him, "Have it your own way then," and a silver knife appeared in her free hand, drawn from its sheathe within her sleeve. A second flick of her wand immobilised him before he could react and he swore loudly, he was defenceless.

"This is for killing my child," she said softly, her voice dripping with malice as she sank the blade into his abdomen. He gasped at the pain, blood blossoming across his robes as the immobilising charm kept him from instinctively clamping a hand over the bloody wound.

"This is for making me barren," she said, drawing out the knife and stabbing it forward a second time, causing him to cry out in pain as he felt the tip of the blade puncture a kidney.

"This is for killing my brother's girlfriend," she said, stabbing again, this time driving the knife into his right lung. Her smirk never died as she saw him begin to gasp for breath, his stabbed lung collapsing in upon itself.

"This is because I hate you," she said one final time, bringing the knife up into his stomach, slicing it open and then stepping back as his blood flowed freely, pooling upon the ground. She shook her head in disgust as he fell, released from her spell as she turned to walk away, a wave of her hand all it taking to blast open the door. Rose thought that taking vengeance would have lightened her, instead it only made her feel more empty as she lost what once had been her driving force in life. The need to avenge herself was now gone making her feel strangely lost and alone.

When she had asked her mother to allow her to take her own revenge Hermione had nodded and given her assent, for although Hermione had been hurt, Rose had been the one to suffer.

And Hermione Malfoy had never denied her children that which they desired.

She never saw Ron claw his way towards the fireplace, coughing blood and staining the carpet red as he reached for the floo-powder.

(*)(*)(*)

"What the hell," she said, taking a step back, her eyes betraying her fear as he advanced on her. She didn't have her wand on her; it lay on her bedside table because she had trusted the wards on her property to keep her safe.

They hadn't, Harry Potter now approached her with a grim look in his eye, his wand held threateningly in front of him.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he said coldly, "We need a bargaining chip to keep that filth from seizing the Ministry." She fumbled behind her for a weapon, anything that she could use to defend herself, her fingers finding the stem of a crystalline vase and gripping it tightly to swing. Harry stepped forward, seeming to take her silence as her surrender but then she struck, the vase shattering against his temple with as much force as she could muster.

He staggered backwards, blood soaking into his hair from a shallow cut as she turned to use his shock to her advantage. She hoped she could run, grab her broomstick from the kitchen and flee. Her back was turned, she was at the kitchen door when she felt the spell strike her in her back. She cried out before falling to the ground, bound by a dozen tight ropes.

"I don't like this Harry," muttered Deniss Creevy as he levitated her into the air, "Do we really need a hostage."

"We do," said Harry firmly, though his voice shook ever so slightly, "He will come for her . . . we can use her to draw my son out into the open."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Dennis, warily eyeing the twitching witch who floated before him.

"He loves her," responded Harry coolly, "And love is the death of any Potter, even ones as evil as my son."

(*)(*)(*)

Rita Skeeter bustled excitedly through the heaving crowd as she made her way towards the podium, her quick-notes quill scribbling with a speed she had never before seen, her journalistic senses tingling with anticipation. To her surprise the Minister stood before them, looking extremely solemn even for him as he stood to address the growing crowd. She had expected Shackebolt to be dead by now, a shame that he had survived the attack; it would have made a good front-page story. It didn't surprise her however that the Malfoy family stood flanking him, the very epitome of grace and poise as the stood surrounding the Minister. Mr. And Mrs Malfoy stood with a callous indifference, both their eyes reflecting pride as they watched their children. Their daughter Rose Granger, a curse breaker of formidable repute stood with her blouse splashed with blood, she hastily signalled for her cameraman to snap a photo. There was no doubt a story in there somewhere.

The sons, Hugo and Scorpius Malfoy both had their family's trademark smirk across their faces, the lawyer and the businessman both seeming content to let the Minister have the stage for the nonce. Rita did not however miss the fact that they both had their hands on their wands, their posture telling her that they were ready for the slightest hint of trouble. The son-in-law; Albus Potter stood at Draco's side, his lips moving as he spoke to the older man in a hushed voice. Cassiopeia Potter, his lady wife, was noticeable only by her absence. No doubt Albus would have kept his pregnant bride home in the safety of the manor than bring her to the forefront of a coup.

"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen," began the Minister in his deep, reassuring voice, causing Rita to divert her full attention to him. Her quick notes quill hummed hurriedly as it jotted down his words.

"I have gathered you here today to let it be known that in lieu of recent event I, Kingsley Shacklebolt, am hereby resigning as Minister of Magic. This is not a forced resignation; I firmly follow the principles and the ideologies of the Outcasts and have since come to terms with Albus Potter, the leader of their movement. I have held the position of Minister for nigh on two decades and I have watched our society begin to decay from within which is why I agree with Albus when I say that it is time for change. Therefore, please allow me to introduce you to my successor . . . Draco Malfoy."

The room filled with jeers of disapproval, however these emanated from a single circle of individuals, quickly dimming when they noted that the majority of the crowd seemed either approving or at the very least, reserving judgement for the present. Rita made certain to take down the names of those who had been attempting to cause trouble. Then a thought struck her.

"Mr. Shacklebolt!" she called loudly as he turned away to give Draco the stage, "What does this mean for you?"

"I will be returning to the Auror Office, where I hope I can repair the damage that has been done to it." he said cordially with a nod of his head, his proclamation seemed to have impressed the crowd. The failure of Ron Weasley had been highly publicised by none other than Rita, who had received a tip off from an unlikely source – Rose Granger (On Albus' orders) – and the entire room know knew about the mass resignation. She quickly shook her head as Draco began to speak, strangely enough though she found herself agreeing with a great number of things that he said. She found this shocking, as a journalist she did not usually take sides but she could not deny that he raised a valid point.

It also helped that the Outcasts, while having taken numerous prisoners during the assault on the Ministry, had not killed a single member of their opposition. The same could not be said for the Ministry, who had claimed the lives of eight Outcasts by the time the fighting was over.

Just then her eyes flared as she saw a patronus, a mighty luminescent stag gallop into the room and leap onto the stage, seeming to glare reproachfully at Albus.

"Surrender the Ministry and yourself," said the voice of Harry Potter, cold and unyielding, "Or we kill the woman that you love most." There was a fleck of remorse and hesitation in his voice, Rita was sure she had imagined it. Her quill nearly burst with excitement as she contemplated this new twist, wondering what headlines she could use that would prove most apt. Perhaps, The Boy Who Blackmailed?

Rita noticed the distraught look on Draco's face as the Stag kept speaking, the furious glares shared by Cassiopeia's three siblings . . . and the look of utter hatred etched on Albus Potter's face as he listened to his father's demands.

Just then the Patronus screamed in a woman's voice, high-pitched, fearful, yet grimly determined – obviously their prisoner had broken free and interrupted the patronus to send a message of her own."

"Don't listen to them Albus! They'll kill you the second you–!" screamed Ginny Weasley, before the sound of a harsh slap and the whisper of a crumpling body echoed through the room. The patronus cursed and vanished, leaving Albus Potter trembling with barely concealed rage. Rose stepped forward, knowing what happened when Albus became overtly emotional. The journalist watched as his jaw was set, roughly mouthing the words to himself:

"He has my mother."

Rita watched in stunned silence as the boy began to exude waves of feral darkness, so forebodingly powerful that she took a step back, her quill freezing, for once unsure of what to do. She watched, still shocked at the power he seemed to hold as Hermione and Draco exchanged fervent looks and tried to approach, both being shoved back by the force of his magic.

"Scorpius! Stun him dammit!" yelled Draco, holding an arm to shield his eyes as the darkness flowed out harsh and unyielding. Scorpius nodded; his hesitation evident in his eyes. "Stupefy," he said finally at the same time as Hugo, the twin jets of red light flying at their brother-in-law and fizzling out into a shower of sparks before they could get anywhere near. Albus cocked his head towards them, his green eyes burned black, the whites bloodshot. Then he apparated with a harsh crack, leaving the atrium flooded in dark energy.

(*)(*)(*)

Albus stalked up the pathway to Grimmauld Place, the protective wards his father had set against him breaking like glass as he moved forward, the Shadow of Bellatrix prowling at his side. She had felt his darkness erupt and she had come, her spectral eyes gleaming with malice. A bolt of lightning flashed from the roiling sky, the dark clouds spreading like a blight from directly over where he stood.

Albus felt himself tremble, his heart pounded out of rhythm, the straining shadows fighting to break through the wards and blocks. He grimaced, clutching at his chest to steady himself before glaring at the doorway of his childhood home, sending the wooden structure blasting off its hinges. There was a roar of thunder as a crashing arc of lightning tore through the sky, striking the ground and blasting a small crater into the slate-stone pathway.

"Stupefy!" he heard the yells, four jets of red light came shrieking through the air and for a moment his magic flared, causing the stunners to rebound away from him with hisses and an explosion of sparks. He reached out his hand and flicked his wrist, instantly rewarded by the pain filled yells of his foes as they were forcefully flung aside. His father reared up, wand clutched tightly, aiming at his heart. His mother screamed as the tip of Harry's wand glowed harsh and green.

"Bellatrix," he commanded, "Kill!"

And Bella let out a joyful cry of ecstasy as she tore through the air, her shadowy claws weaving bloody furrows through the three men who had stood with his father. The Shadow moved with a feline grace, slashing the air and laughing manically, a fell voice upon the air as Albus moved to unbind his mother from the chair she was tied too. To the Order members who could not see her, insubstantial as a Shadow was, it seemed as though Albus had loosed death itself upon them.

Harry stared in dumbstruck horror, his wand slipping from his grip as Bella shredded the skin of his arm. Cursing in pain he stumbled backwards, before pouring his own energy into the air – to make their attacker visible.

He blanched, bleeding arms shivering in terror as he saw her in all her dark glory, the darkest witch to ever live. Bellatrix smirked as she felt the flows of magic envelop her before flying forward to finish the job.

"Stop!" came a cry from the doorway and Bella froze despite herself, for that was her mistress's voice, whose blood and magic was bound to her master. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Bella flitted back to Albus' side in disappointment, scowling when he saw an unconscious Ginny in his son's arms. He had obviously rescued her whilst his minion had been keeping them busy. He scowled at his rescuer, his youngest daughter-in-law standing resplendent in her righteous anger, when had she gotten here?

"Albus," her voice was cool and clear, her platinum hair dispelling the darkness which clouded his eyes as she grabbed his wrist in an iron grip. He let out a groan as he felt the darkness settle, roiling painfully where it had been bound and feeling the magic he had loosed sink back into his heart. Above the house the sky began to clear as he was overcome with dizziness. Stumbling, he slumped, nearly dropping Ginny as he clung almost-limply against his wife's side. Harry had to give the girl credit, she was stronger than she looked for though she seemed a little unsteady on her feet, she still supported her husband and mother-in-law's weight with her own body.

"You owe me a life debt," snarled Cassiopeia Potter as she glared at the father-in-law. The prone man watched in disbelief as she dispelled her husband's darkness, her soothing voice drawing him back to the world of light and life. Harry watched his son's jet black eyes clear, fading to their usual green.

"I spared your life," continued his daughter-in-law, "Only because I don't want my husband to have to live with blood on his hands. In payment I ask that you to stay away from my family."

Then with a graceful twirl, she apparated Ginny, Albus and herself back to the Manor.

(*)(*)(*)

A/N: Thoughts?