Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Friend or Foe

Chapter 16: Trapped

Harry stood alone in the drawing room, staring out from the window at the silent street of Grimmauld Place. He was feeling unnaturally excited that night and not at all sleepy.

He listened carefully for any sound outside the room. It was nearly one in the morning and Mrs. Weasley certainly wouldn't like seeing him out of bed at this hour, especially when he was going back to school the next day.

Mrs. Weasley had been busying herself in the Order Headquarters, desperate to make everyone enjoyed the Christmas holiday as much as possible. But even though she had been acting as if nothing was wrong, everyone could see just how hard Mr. Weasley's capture was for her. That was understandable, since they still couldn't find any clue of where Mr. Weasley was. The only thing they knew was that Mr. Weasley was still alive, since the hand that represented Mr. Weasley on the Weasley family clock was still there, pointing at "mortal peril" as usual. The hand, according to Ron, would have disappeared if Mr. Weasley had been killed. Harry had a feeling that this little hope was the only thing that kept Mrs. Weasley going at the moment.

Percy's return might also help. Percy had refused to acknowledge the fact that his father had been captured by Voldemort at first, insisting that it was simply a ploy on Dumbledore's part. Percy had even sent an owl stating that he did not want to receive anything from his family again and that he was disappointed to see his family still believing Dumbledore's lies.

Then, a few days after they received Percy's owl, the Weasley in question surprised everyone by flooing to the Order Headquarter one day unannounced, saying that the Ministry requested his father's presence in some meetings. Of course, it was clear that Percy's true intention was to see his father for himself to confirm his own claim. After all, Mr. Weasley had already been absent from work for a whole week. Percy had changed quickly from feigned indifferent to alarmed and worried once he saw the state his mother was in. Harry smiled slightly as he recalled the scene of the reunion. Fred and George had pulled some rather nasty pranks on Percy, of course, but they had all forgiven Percy eventually and welcomed his return with open arms.

Harry wondered what would happen when they found out his secrets. Percy's faults were nothing compared to what he had done. They would not forgive him, that's for sure, nor did he deserve any forgiveness.

Harry let out a deep sigh and rubbed his temple. This Christmas was by far the worst he had experienced. Being around the order members and the Weasleys all the time made Harry doubt his decision more than ever. And after what had happened on Christmas Day…

Somehow, Harry was not surprised that Tom had chosen Christmas Day, the day of peace and joy, to make his first move.

Early that morning, the wizarding world had been hit with the news of a massive break out in Azkaban. Dozens of convinced Death Eaters had escaped and the dementors had revolted. From what Harry had been able to gather in the warded headquarters, the Ministry had tried to cover the fact, but it had leaked out somehow and the wizarding world had been in fear and confusion, which, Harry knew, was exactly what Voldemort had wanted.

After the coming raid, which Harry had been dreading ever since the last meeting, the whole wizarding world would be in a state of panic, making them vulnerable to the Dark Lord's conquest.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. Despite his grim thoughts, the strange feeling of excitement still lingered and that made him feel really unsettled. He cleared his mind in an attempt to calm himself, but found that the feeling did not cease. Instead, the excitement and anticipation seemed to be growing stronger…

Harry frowned. Could it be…?

Yes, it had to be Tom. He had known they could feel what the other felt, but he never knew it could be that strong.It was as if Harry was feeling those emotions himself, but they were definitely coming from the other side of the bond. Had Voldemort felt his emotions this way too?

But the excitement… only one thing could made Voldemort this excited.

The raid.

Harry took in a shaky breath. If that was the case, he had better go back to his room and prepare-

"Harry?"

Harry jumped at the voice. He turned around sharply to find Percy Weasley standing by the door.

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Percy frowned at the sight of Harry. He had always stayed up late to finish his work for the Ministry, and he been surprised to hear noise coming from the drawing room when he was heading back to his room.

"You should be in bed, Harry," he said, knowing the boy was going back to Hogwarts early the next morning.

"I can't sleep," said Harry. "I'm planning to go back to my room anyway."

Percy nodded. He had meant to apologize to Harry personally for some time, but couldn't find the opportunity. He stepped into the room before he could stop himself and stared uneasily into Harry's curious gaze.

Percy hated admitting his wrongs, yet he found himself doing just that quite often after he had come back home. But then, he was at fault this time. He had hurt his family deeply, he knew it, and his father… Percy couldn't believe how he had acted when he first received the news. Instead of comforting his family, as he should have, he had accused his family of tricking him.

And Harry… it only occurred to Percy recently of how much the boy had gone through, and how cold Percy had been to him since the tournament last year.

"Harry, I…" Percy started, feeling awkward. "I want to apologize, for my attitude last year. I should have supported you, but instead, I… well, we all know what I've done," he said the last part with a nervous laugh.

Harry looked surprised, and Percy didn't blame him. After all, Percy was not as close to Harry as his siblings were.

"It's all right," said Harry with a small smile, but Percy couldn't help but notice the guilt that was underlying in his voice.

Percy shook his head. He must have imagined that, Harry had no reason to feel guilty.

He smiled slightly, relieved that Harry seemed to have forgiven him. Then, deciding he had delayed Harry his sleep long enough, Percy wished the boy a good evening and turned to leave.

He was a step out of the drawing room when a hiss of pain stopped him. He turned around to see Harry's face contorted in pain.

Alarmed, Percy rushed to Harry's side. "Harry! Are you all right?"

A look of panic crossed the boy's face as he heard Percy's voice. Percy watched in concern as Harry took in several deep breaths in an attempt to steady himself.

"I'm fine," Harry replied in a natural tone, but Percy could hardly believe him.

"No, I'll… go and call someone. Are you all right by yourself?" asked Percy, growing more concern by minutes.

"No!" the boy shouted, the frightened look clear in his eyes this time. He continued in a calmer manner. "I'll… be fine, Percy. It's not the first time, I just need a good rest."

Percy frowned as Harry made his retreat unsteadily. He reached out and placed his hand on Harry's left shoulder, trying to help the boy.

Harry's reaction caught Percy by surprised. Harry hissed once he felt the weight of Percy's hand on his shoulder. He jerked away from Percy violently and, in reflex, grabbed his left arm tightly in obvious pain.

"What-"

Percy looked up to see Harry staring at him with wide eyes. Percy narrowed his eyes. The obvious pain Harry was in. The look of panic on Harry's face. The boy grabbing his left forearm, which seemed to be the source of his pain.

Somewhere in Percy's mind he made the connection. All these pointed to one conclusion, an outrageous conclusion.

Yet every sense in Percy told him he was right…

"No…" he muttered softly.

Slowly, he closed the door behind him and took a step towards Harry.

"You… you are a Death Eater," even as he said it, Percy couldn't quite believe his own words.

"Percy, I-" Harry gritted his teeth, looking away.

This action was enough to confirm Percy's dread.

He clenched his fists. "How could you?" he whispered, his voice shaking with emotions.

Suddenly became aware of his situation, Percy reached for his wand. But before he could touch his wand, a blinding red beam hit him hard in his chest and he knew no more.

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Albus Dumbledore took in a deep breath. He believed himself to be a patient man, but even so, his patience had its limit. Severus had gone to the meeting half an hour ago. And if Voldemort had not changed his plan, a massive raid would take place tonight.

With the dementors siding with Voldemort, Albus knew the Order itself would not be enough to do anything against Voldemort's force. They needed the help of the Ministry.

And if even a boy's death after the Tournament last year and the break out in Azkaban were not enough for Cornelius Fudge to believe Voldemort's return, Albus knew he was in for an almost impossible task if he was to convince Fudge to send out his Aurors.

He looked back at the clearly annoyed face of the Minister of Magic in the fireplace.

"Isn't it clear, Cornelius? Only the convicted Death Eaters were released when the dementors revolted. Can't you see who now commands the dementors? Azkaban is now out of the Ministry's control. And thousands of lives will be lost tonight if you don't act now," Albus said firmly.

Cornelius winced at Albus' commanding tone, but the sneer had never left his face and he replied impatiently, "I am a busy man, Albus, and I have wasted enough time here listening to your preposterous claim."

Albus felt his patience left him. "Preposterous!" Again, the Minister winced at Albus's tone. "How many deaths do you need before you finally see the truth? It is the Ministry's respon-"

Albus was interrupted when a white mist in the form of a leopard appeared in his office. He turned from the enraged Minister to Severus' patronus. Raising his hand, Albus touched the transparent head of the animal. Severus's voice echoed in Albus' head upon the touch.

"Albus, there's at least seventy Death Eaters and an army of inferi gathering here. The Dark Lord won't tell us the location of the raid. We will be using portkeys instead of apparition. The only clue I can gather is that it's a remote muggle village in the north and it should be fairly large. I may not be able to send messages without it being suspicious once I'm there, so you will have to trace my location. Be quick, Albus, he's planning to annihilate the whole village."

Albus took in a sharp breath. Annihilate the whole village.

He glanced at Cornelius. If Voldemort was using the inferi again, he would need the Ministry's full support. There was no time. If Cornelius refused to be convinced, then Albus would have to let him see for himself.

"Come to my office, Cornelius. I will show you the proof," said Albus coolly.

The Minister narrowed his eyes. "If you are going to waste more of my time-"

"Just come through the fireplace, Fudge," Albus snapped, no longer bothering to suppress his anger. "If you still don't believe me, then I will never bother you and the Ministry again."

The Minister appeared thoughtful at the proposal. He seemed rather shaken at being shouted at by Albus Dumbledore.

"All right," he said eventually, stepping through the fireplace to Albus' office. "You will stop spreading this nonsensical idea of You-Know-Who returning after this."

Albus walked across his office to his wooden cabinet, where he stored his pensieve. He took out the stone basin and placed it on his desk. With a sigh, he tapped it with his wand to select a particular memory he knew could convince Cornelius. Severus' memory. One that contained Severus' latest meeting with the Dark Lord. He had asked Severus to store it in his pensieve for a time like this.

Albus was really reluctant in taking this step. He knew Severus hated to show others his memories. But now was a desperate time and he needed Cornelius to believe him.

"I trust that you know only real memories can be stored in a pensieve, Cornelius?" said Albus, gesturing to the stone container. "Take a look at this memory then, and reconsider you decision before it is too late."

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Percy blinked dizzily as he finally regained conscious of his surrounding. What had happened? The last thing he remembered was-

He gasped and pushed himself up from wherever he was lying, fully awake. His eyes darted around at the unfamiliar place. It seemed to be a standard bedroom, with a large bookshelf in the corner and several cauldrons on the floor.

Where was he? Did Harry take him to You-Know-Who? Yet somehow he doubted the Dark Lord would let his prisoner stay in such a comfortable bedroom.

He gritted his teeth at the thought of Harry Potter. The boy he was beginning to trust and respect, after knowing how many times he had saved them all, was actually working for the Dark Lord. How long had Harry been working for You-Know-Who? Something was not right. What had turned Harry when he had stopped the Dark Lord so many times before? Or had Percy been tricked and that, too, was all lies?

He shook his head. Now was not the time for this. He needed to find a way out. He reached for his wand, and was surprised that it had not been taken away from him.

If he was not captured, then where was he?

"Ah, I see you're finally awake. Harry seems to have put a little too much power in that spell of his," came an unfamiliar voice.

Percy turned in the direction of the voice to find himself staring at an old man almost as old, if not older, than Dumbledore.

"Who are you?" Percy inquired, tightening his grip on his wand. Now was not the time for manners. "And where am I?"

"Easy, child," said the old man. "I am not working for Tom, if that's what you are thinking."

Percy narrowed his eyes. "Tom?"

The old man blinked, then said, "Voldemort."

Percy flinched at the name, but managed to keep his face straight. "Who are you?"

"My name is Nicolas Flamel," said the old mans slowly. "And you are currently at my house."

"Nicolas Flamel?" Percy echoed. That name seemed familiar. Percy remembered it from Ron's account of his adventure in first year. "You are… the alchemist that owned the Sorcerer's Stone."

Flamel nodded. He seemed pleased that Percy recognized him.

"Why am I here?" asked Percy. "The last thing I remember..." he tailed off, finding it hard to believe even now.

"Is Harry Potter attacking you," Flamel finished for him. The old man sighed. "I know you have many questions, but it would be best if we wait until Harry's back before starting the explanation."

After all that he had found out that night, Percy didn't know if he should be surprised to know that the great alchemist Flamel somehow seemed to know Harry Potter personally.

"You know Harry?" he asked.

"Who doesn't?" answered Flamel quickly with a smile. "Yes, I've known Harry personally for some time."

"Do you know he is a…"

"Death Eater?" asked Flamel.

Percy nodded, warily.

Flamel sighed. "Yes, I know," he said quietly, sounding a little guilty. "I don't agree with his… method, but it is partly my fault that he has chosen this path."

Percy was confused. What was Flamel talking about? Why was the old alchemist involved in the first place?

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Flamel shook his head. "Not now, child," he said. "I know you want answers, but let's wait until Harry's back."

"Where's Harry?" asked Percy. Then he remembered what had caused him to discover Harry's secret. "He's… meeting with You-Know-Who?"

Flamel shook his head. He seemed much older at that moment.

"Harry's on a raid," he answered softly, worry lining his voice.

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Voldemort stared at the burning village in satisfaction. The raid was going smoothly so far. He had been careful in not revealing the actual location of the raid while making sure he had left enough clues for the traitor Severus Snape to report to Dumbledore. He didn't mind letting the old fool know where the raid was. After all, the whole point of this raid was to intensify the fear he had successfully inflicted on the world earlier. So he had to make sure Dumbledore and his little army could find them. And if he knew Dumbledore, the old fool would probably try to convince the Ministry into helping him as well. He smirked. All the better.

He had commanded his Death Eaters to disapparate immediately once they saw the Dark Mark over the village. If everything worked according to his plan, his Death Eaters should be able to turn the village before him into ruin before the Ministry and the old fool worked out their location.

Now was not the time to confront Dumbledore's force directly. That would have to wait until the full-scale attack he was planning. And things would be much easier once the fear began to set in and the wizarding community started to doubt their so-called leaders' capabilities.

He glanced coldly at the figure beside him. Normally only Wormtail would stay behind during a raid, the worthless rat was too afraid to take part in any action. But for some reason, he had been… relieved that Potter had chosen to stay behind as well, rather than going into the village. Somehow, he didn't want Potter to see and to experience whatever was going on in the burning city.

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Harry filched from the sight of the burning village. The Death Eaters had just arrived not more than ten minutes ago and the place was already filled with screams, pleas, and death. No one could imagine the living hell before him had only a short moment ago been a peaceful village. He closed his eyes and turned away from the unbearable sight.

He fought hard not to think of what had happened earlier in the headquarters and focused on the raid before him. He would deal with the other problems after this was over.

He glanced up at Voldemort, who was standing beside him. The Dark Lord had simply ignored his presence so far, and had not even inquired why Harry had not gone into the village along with the other Death Eaters. The only other Death Eater that had stayed on the border of the village was Wormtail, who was stationed on the other side of the Dark Lord. Pettigrew seemed content to stay with his master and Voldmort didn't seem to expect the man to be anywhere else.

A loud explosion could be heard from the far end of the village. Harry winced and gritted his teeth.

If that was what it was like to watch the destruction of the village from afar, Harry didn't want to know what the sight inside the burning village was.

Another scream reached Harry's ears. The Gryffindor in him wanted nothing more than to be rushing into the site and helping as many as he could. But he knew he was powerless to help any of the dying villagers. And the mask that was covering his face kept reminding him of his place and of the reality that he was one of the monsters responsible for this merciless assault.

Why would anyone want this?

A movement caught Harry's attention. From a narrow alley, one of the few exits of the village, a woman ran out with a boy not older than eight. The woman was still in pajamas and there was a deep wound on her forehead. She kept glancing at the boy behind her as they ran out of the alley, right towards where the Dark Lord was standing.

The two escaping muggles stopped in their track several feet away from them. The boy cried out and backed away fearfully, staring at Voldemort's face in horror.

The Dark Lord's wand was out before Harry could react. With a sadistic smile that made Harry flinch, Voldemort first pointed the wand at the small boy. "Crucio!"

"No! Not my son!" The woman cried, rushing to the side of the screaming child on the ground and holding him in her arms helplessly as the child continued to twist violently. She stared up at Voldemort, tears running down her cheek. "Please… take me instead. Not my son. I beg you…"

Voldemort let out a horrible laugh. Harry felt a lump at his throat as watched the familiar sight of a mother protecting her child.

Soon the screams of the boy died down. The child lay lifeless on his mother's lap. The hollow look of his haunted blue eyes was his only response to his mother's desperate shout of his name.

Harry averted his eyes, not bearing to look at the sight.

After a while, the woman's cracking voice could be heard again, "You… monster… I'll…"

Voldemort smirked, seemingly enjoying the situation. "What will you do? What can you do?" He shook his head. "How pathetic. Crucio!"

The curse once again shot from Voldemort's wand. The screams of the woman rang through the place.

Harry felt his knees weakening. The image of the boy's haunted look and the screams of the woman were fast becoming too much for him.

"Stop that," he said in a hoarse voice, looked up at the Dark Lord.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, as if he was having some difficulties in maintaining his concentration.

"What did you say, Potter?" said the Dark Lord, not taking his eyes from the woman.

"Stop that," said Harry, more forcefully this time. He could hear Nagini hissing warningly at him from Voldemort's side.

"Are you commanding me?" hissed Voldemort dangerously.

Harry gritted his teeth. "Why… why are you doing this? She's… she's just-"

"A worthless being. One of the many pathetic muggles," Voldemort spat. He tightened his grip on his wand. "Control your emotions, Potter."

Harry clenched his fists. "Just because they have hurt you before doesn't mean you have the right to kill them all, Tom!" he shouted, before realizing that he had crossed the line.

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"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort ended the woman's life before turning his full attention to Potter.

How dare the boy talk to him like that? How dare he remind him of his childhood?

He had allowed the boy the stay behind, but Potter was taking things too far. He was a Death Eater after all, regardless of what his reason for joining him might be. And as such, Potter deserved to be punished for his disrespect. He had not been acting like a Death Eater ever since he had been marked, and it was time to teach the boy a lesson.

He raised his wand, then stopped when he remembered the constant protection that he himself had given to the boy. He sneered. It was time to end Potter's childish hope once and for all. Though he refused to admit it, the strange emotions that he had been experiencing since Potter had first contacted him through the bond several months ago was affecting him, weakening him. Now was time to stop it all.

"Accio."

The spell caught Potter by surprised. The deep green crystal flew out from under Potter's robe, stopping only when the silver necklace had stretched its full length. The enchanted necklace could only be broken by one person other than Potter himself.

Voldemort reached out and grabbed the glowing crystal in the air. His eyes widened when he felt the power of the crystal trying to repel him, burning like fire in his fist. But Voldemort did not withdraw his hand. The pure protective power disgusted him.

Potter gasped. "You can't-"

Voldemort tightened his grip on the crystal, ignoring the pain the crystal was inflicting on him, and broke the necklace with a sharp pull. The boy gave out a cry of pain and fell down on the ground, a deep red mark appeared on his neck at the impact of the pull.

"And why can't I?" hissed Voldemort. "You will learn your place, Potter. Crucio!"

Potter struggled for a while before screaming out loud. Wormtail tensed at the sound, but Voldemort ignored him as usual. He focused on Potter, anger filling him. He didn't know what had made him so angry. Because Potter had mentioned his childhood? Because the crystal had reminded him of just how much he had once cared for the boy laying before him? Or was it because of the fact that the protection crystal he had given to Potter himself so long ago was now repelling him?

He didn't understand and that confusion angered him ever more. He would make Potter pay for creating all this.

/Master, please stop the curse. He cannot endure it much longer./

Nagini's plea broke his concentration. He stared down at the boy, trembling on the ground. The ground around him was strained deep red by his own blood. It startled Voldemort to know that Nagini was right. Potter would have died had he continued his curse any longer. And the fact that he could have killed the boy without the distraction disturbed him more than anything.

"Wormtail," Voldemort glanced at the shaken Death Eater and nodded towards Potter's direction.

Wormtail nodded and stumbled to Potter's side, checking his condition. Voldemort let out his breath when Potter managed to get back on his feet after some support from Wormtail.

Why was he feeling so relieved? Did it really matter if Potter had died?

Voldemort didn't know the answer and that frightened him. The answer of that question had always been so clear for the last fifteen years, but now he just wasn't sure.

Potter steadied himself. He looked up and the Dark Lord found himself staring into a pair of eyes filled with pain, disbelief and… fear.

Fear.

Potter was probably the only person that didn't stare at him with either animosity or fear. And now… the emotions in Potter's eyes were just too much. For once, Voldemort averted his eyes.

Potter stayed motionless for a while, before turning sharply and running unsteadily away from Voldemort, into the burning village of death before them.

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"Crucio!"

Draco tensed as the muggle's scream rang through the house. He stood still next to his father as he watched the helpless man suffered under his father's cruse. He carefully masked his emotions, as he always did, but the sound of crying and screaming coming from the all over the muggle village made the task much harder than usual.

He knew that was not what a Malfoy was supposed to be, but Draco was terrified. The sight of a massive raid itself was unbearable, and knowing he himself was one of the bringers of this disaster made it much worst. He wanted nothing more than to leave this living hell.

"I cannot stop you, Draco, but while you still have a chance to turn away, I want you to make your decision carefully," Severus had told him solemnly when he came to the Christmas Party at the Malfoy Manor.

Severus seemed really reluctant in letting Draco follow his father to the raid, and Draco had never seen his godfather dreading something so much.

And once Draco had followed his father into this village, he soon understood why Severus had been so afraid.

Cold laughter drew Draco's attention from the twisting muggle to his father. He flinched at the sight of his father's obvious enjoyment. His father's grey eyes widened sadistically as he continued to torture the muggle.

Draco took a step back involuntarily. Was this his father? Was this… monster the same man who Draco had looked up to the most for as long as he could remember? What was before him was nothing but a sadist who took pleasure in inflicting pain on innocents.

He felt his world shatter. For perhaps the first time in his life, Draco finally realized what it meant to follow his father's footstep and just what he had now gotten himself into.

A sudden impact from behind nearly knocked Draco to the floor. He turned around sharply and sent his attacker down on the ground with a quick flick of his wand. Acting on instinct, he rushed forward and pinned his attacker on the floor, pointing his wand at the muggle's throat.

"Murderer!"

Draco found himself wincing at the word. The muggle was a boy about his age. Tears were rolling down the boy's face as he continued to kick aimlessly at Draco from form the ground.

"Kill him, son," said his father, glancing at Draco's direction briefly.

Glancing from his father to the boy, Draco gritted his teeth and pointed his wand at the boy.

"Avada Kedavra." Draco closed his eyes and turned away from the lifeless body on the floor.

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Harry ran aimlessly into the village. He knew it was foolish of him to venture into the site of the raid in his weakened state, but he now wanted nothing more than to stay as far away from the Dark Lord as possible.

He was scared. Scared of what the Dark Lord had done to him. Scared of what he would witness if he continued to stay at the Dark Lord's side. And scared of knowing that all he had done was for nothing; that Voldemort was really beyond redemption.

He had run to the middle of a street when stopped in his track. There were flames everywhere, but otherwise, the whole street was in dead silence, as if it was devoid of all lives. Which was most probably the truth, Voldemort's order of annihilating the village was still clear in Harry's mind.

The sound of heavy footsteps from behind him caused Harry to turn around sharply. Walking towards him from behind a burned house was a middle-aged man, holding a handgun in his hand. The man's eyes widened when he saw Harry.

Harry was stunned at the utter hatred he could see in the man's eyes. He couldn't imagine what kind of terror this man must have gone through to drive him to this state of near madness.

He backed away when the man lunged forward, clutching Harry's neck unexpectedly and pinning him to the nearby wall. Harry widened his eyes and struggled in the strong grip, choking for breath. He reached for his wand but was stopped when the madman kicked him in his stomach heavily.

"Murderer…deserve to…"

Harry couldn't make out any more of what the man was muttering to himself. He recovered from the kick and was able to push the man off him. He stumbled to the ground, panting heavily. He looked back at the man and froze when he found the man's gun pointing directly at him, aiming at his heart. His hand had just reached his wand when a loud bang rang though the quiet street.

Harry's vision blackened. The only thing he knew before he lost consciousness was the Dark Mark hanging over the town, and the sound of apparition that indicated the Aurors' arrival.

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A/N: The "NEWTs" is coming, and I probably won't be able to update until it's over, which is… er… May. /Backing off fearfully/ I know I shouldn't leave you a cliffhanger like that, but… er… I'll write as soon as I finish my exam.

As usual, thanks for my beta Irihi Safaia and all reviewers. Please Review!