The Unforgiving Minute
XI: The Eleventh Hour
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21:00
A gasp of pain escaping his lips, Harry appeared in the darkened woods, deep agony ripping through the lower portion of his right leg. He fell heavily to the ground, onto a thick, spongy bed of rotting leaves and pine needles.
With a grunt of pain, he rolled onto his back, and raised his right leg, to see that everything from the shin down was missing.
"Fucking hell!" he growled, slamming his fists upon the ground. It had been fucking idiotic to apparate at such high speeds, as he had been on the broom, but with Dumbledore in the immediate vicinity, what choice did he have?
Harry had no illusions: Right now, he was one of the best duelists in Europe, more than a match for any Death Eater, nearly the Dark Lord's equal in overall skill…
All of which meant nothing against Dumbledore, who could probably mop the floor with him. He was well aware that he was lucky to have escaped Hogwarts, but had paid a steep price for it. For the first time, genuine fear began to penetrate his hardened mental defenses.
Not because of his missing foot, but at the recognition Harry had seen reflected in Dumbledore's brilliant blue eyes. How much did he suspect? How much did he know?
Most of all…
Did the Headmaster have any idea what he was planning?
"Fuck it," spat Harry. He couldn't start to worry about things he no longer had control over, as they would make his task even more difficult than it already was. Reaching down the front of his robes, he withdrew the brass pocket-watch.
The hour hand of the watch was ahead of the tenth digit by a fraction of an inch. Correcting for the hour offset with the actual time…
It was five minutes past nine.
Back at Hogwarts, Ludo Bagman's whistle had already sounded, heralding the beginning of the Third Task, urging the contestants forward into the maze of greenery. As the Champions made their way through the darkness, Barty Crouch Jr. would be waiting, clearing the path as best he could so Harry could reach the Triwizard Cup first.
Tucking the watch back into his robes, his leg still burning with pain, he heard movement close to him. Drawing his wand in a single fluid motion, he quickly conjured a physical shield. No sooner had the grey shield popped into existence, something heavy smashed down upon it, driving Harry deeper into the pile of leaves.
The pressure eased for a moment, before a long, drawn-out hiss echoed into the night air. At once, the force struck downward again, driving him even deeper into the ground, walls of leaves, needles and rot beginning to enclose him.
Taking a deep breath, Harry apparated as soon as the crushing weight lifted, landing fifteen feet from his original spot. Momentarily forgetting that he only had one foot to stand on, he tumbled to the ground. For a single moment, he saw a large green viper, its body as thick as a man's thigh. Whirling around, it abandoned the physical shield, slithering towards him, yellow eyes locked upon Harry. With movements as quick as lightning, it slithered up to him, snapping its jaws down.
The poisonous fangs just missed Harry, who quickly apparated away. Landing, using a nearby tree to brace himself, he quickly slung a silencing spell, striking Nagini. The giant snake immediately fell silent as she advanced, long tongue flicking through the air. Her movements were cautions, wary, the viper well aware that its prey was not the easy meal she had envisioned, and more than capable of defending itself.
Without warning, Harry began to wave his wand in a complicated fashion, the narrow stick of wood cutting through the air swiftly. Seeing his movements, Nagini rocketed forward, only to have one of the weathered branches on an ancient tree bend downward, wrapping itself around the snake's tail.
Nagini let out an entirely silent hiss of annoyance, before twisting back and snapping at the branch wrapped around her tail. The sharp fangs split through the decaying wood, splinters flying outward, nearly severing the branch. Opening her mouth, Nagini went to strike again, only to have a second branch descend and clamp down around her neck. The serpentine body thrashed violently, but could not squirm out of the wooden grasp.
Stretching his arm wide, both of the branches followed his command, snapping back in opposite directions. Nagini was torn roughly in two. For a moment, both ends hung from the branches, dripping blood and entrails onto the ground, before the tree relinquished its grip.
Both halves hit the ground with a loud thud, throwing up leaves. While the bottom half remained still, cut off from the nervous system, the top continued to thrash wildly, the snake hissing in agony, spraying droplets of dark blood everywhere from its severed stump. Quickly, Harry cut his wand in a downward motion.
At once, a thick branch swung down like a sledgehammer, directly upon Nagini's skull. With an earthy crunch it struck, smearing Nagain's head against the ground, instantly stilling her movements. The bloodstained, cracked branch rose back into the air quickly, the tree forming back into its original, pre-animated form. Left behind was the snake's shattered skull, blood and brain matter leaking from beneath the green scales.
Leaning up against a tree, Harry let out a deep, heavy breath. He had known that Nagini had been out hunting during the night of the resurrection, but didn't expect to practically appear atop Voldemort's most cherished pet.
It had certainly been close, but it was about fucking time something finally went his way. The law of averages practically demanded it.
"Five horcruxes down," Harry whispered to himself.
The end was near.
Holding his right leg up in the air, he casually transfigured a pile of leaves into a mass of molten silver. Manipulating the gleaming glob in mid-air, he directed it towards his stump. The fusing process hurt like hell, but at least he'd finally be able to stand properly.
With a wince, he finished fusing the foot. It was a twin to his remaining one in appearance, save for the skin tone and lack of hair. Flexing it, he found that it responded to his movements with ease, even if the increased weight did throw off his balance slightly.
Voldemort may have been a bastard of the highest order, but he was certainly a creative bastard, and Harry wasn't above a little flattery.
Taking off his remaining boot, he replicated it with a quick spell. Quickly re-lacing his boots, he moved towards the edge of the woods, glancing outwards.
At the top of the hill, just visible beneath the starlight, was Riddle Manor. In the scant light, it looked like every bit the haunted house the locals claimed it was. Shingles barely clung to the roof, while ivy had begun to wind its way up the weathered stone.
Right now, as he watched, Wormtail could have been making the final preparations for the ritual. He could be levitating the cauldron out to the graveyard right now, preparing the potions for the Resurrection Ritual.
In the space of a few minutes, Harry knew he could kill Wormtail and disable Voldemort. How easy it would all be, too. Wormtail was no match for him.
With great difficulty, he tore his eyes away from the large home. He had no choice in the matter: Voldemort needed to be saved for last.
The horcruxes were his priority.
Regret tearing at him, conjuring forth the shadows of doubt, Harry apparated away.
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"To Hermione!" thundered the four people holding aloft a smoking shot of Firewhiskey each, before throwing them all back.
Hermione, her belly large with her child, merely shook her head and smiled indulgently at the toast. Zacharias, his normally pale cheeks pink, his smile lopsided, gently draped one of his arms over her shoulders.
"No more lonely night for you, eh Smith?" Ginny said with an impish smile, drawing a laugh from the group. Hermione feigned righteous indignation for a moment, before a chuckle broke through the half-hearted façade.
"To an end to lonely nights!" Harry said cheerfully, raising the bottle of Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey. Immediately Croaker, Ginny and Smith raises their glasses, which Harry filled with enthusiasm, before topping his own off.
"I'll drink to that for the entire rest of the week," Zacharias slurred, beginning to cross over from merely drunk to completely obliterated, drawing a further laugh from the crowd.
"In fact," the blond continued, turning his head towards Harry, "I think you should use it tonight, just so I know for sure I've got my woman back for good."
At once, the gazes drifted over to the mantle of the fireplace in the dining room. Atop the marble platform stood a clear crystal vial, which contained a frothy green potion. It had taken Hermione and Croaker, with the occasional assistance from the other three occupants of the house, five months to create, and far too many sleepless nights to count, but they had finally done it.
The Extractor was complete.
"Drink it! Drink it! Drink it!"
Zacharias may have started it, but Ginny and Croaker picked up the chant almost immediately.
"Drink it! Drink it! Drink it!"
Zacharias and Ginny began to pound their hands on the table, in unison to the chant, causes plates, silverware and glasses to jump up and down on the table.
"Drink it! Drink it! Drink it!"
Harry, a wide, almost forced grin stretching from ear to ear, waved his hands in the air, pleading for order. Reluctantly, Ginny and Zacharias stopped, As they did, Harry walked towards Hermione. Raising his hands, he put each of his hands on either side of her face, feeling her warmth.
The bushy-haired witch regarded him with slight surprise with her honey-colored eyed as Harry leaned in, delivering a small kiss to her lips.
"I can't think you enough for all you've done," he said, holding her gaze. Slightly embarrassed, she tried to wave him off, but he shook his head. "I'm serious. You've worked yourself to the bone, all while carrying that heavy tike in your belly."
"You're not kidding," she said with a slightly grimace, placing her hands over the swell of her midsection.
"So, tonight, we celebrate; forget the worries of the past few years. Tomorrow we can start anew, but tonight I think we all deserve to savor our victory."
Hearty cheers met his declaration, before increasing in frequency as he held the bottle aloft.
"What, Martin doesn't get a kiss too?" Ginny said with a laugh as Harry refilled her glass.
"Oh no!" the elderly wizard exclaimed vehemently, shaking his head from side to side. "I am quite alright, thank you!"
Ginny, her brown eyes dancing with mischief immediately darted her head forward. Her red lips smacked loudly upon Croaker's, before she broke it, laughing hysterically. Harry, Hermione and Zacharias immediately let out wolf-whistles, causing Croaker to bury his head in his hands.
"Now, none of that," Ginny scolded, drawing herself up, doing a passable impersonation of her mother, before bursting out laughing again, downing her shot of Firewhiskey.
Unseen the rest of the party, Harry subtly Vanished the Firewhiskey before it passed down his throat. With every pretend laugh, with every word spoken, with every glance exchanged, guilt ate at him.
In less than twelve hours they would all hate him.
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Harry arrived a mere half-mile from his original apparation point, on a narrow dirt lane with a steep grade. A thick hedgerow on his right closely hugged the road. Hundreds of feet below, the small village of Little Hangleton dreamt, only a few solitary lamps burning in the night.
He jogged forward a short distance, until the lane curved away to the right. Seeing a narrow gap in the hedge, he stepped through. Branches and brambles pulled at his robes but he shrugged them off, coming out onto a narrow dirt track.
The grass and weeds grew wild on the path, almost up to his waist. The hedgerows grew tight on either side of him, eerily reminding him of where his younger counterpart was at the exact moment. In a few more years, the path would probably close completely.
Following the downward grade, the track opened up into a small clearing. In the dark of the night sat the Gaunts' cottage, nearly completely cloaked by the tall trees. Casually casting a light-amplification spell on his eyes, he surveyed the decrepit home.
Black moss had long since replaced the mortar in the foundation, as though the bricks and wooden walls themselves had sprouted from the earth, growing intertwined with the ivy that covered it. Nearly all of the roofing tiles had been dislodged, the rotting rafters beneath poking through like exposed ribs. Nettles grew high around the squat building, completely obscuring the entrance.
Harry expected to hear the chirping of crickets, the cry of the nocturnal predator, but aside from the wind, he heard nothing in the clearing. No signs of life. Without question, it was here.
Inside the overgrown home hid Slytherin's ring, the last of the Founder's artifacts.
The ring was the horcrux Harry had always been the most wary about, even more so than Hufflepuff's Cup. He hadn't the faintest idea what sort of protections cloaked the ring, never having asked Dumbledore how he retrieved it.
Instinctively, he withdrew the golden pocket-watch, to find that ten minutes had passed since he had last checked, right before being attacked by Nagini.
Forty-five minutes remained in the eleventh hour.
Tucking the pocket-watch back into his robes, he closed his eyes as he began to pull in deep, slow breaths. The physical sensations of the warm night air buffeting against his skin, the gentle rustle of the wind stirring the trees, and every other physical sensation began to fade to the background, as if deemed unimportant by his brain.
Reaching out with his mind, he began to feel the subtle breath of magic, before he inhaled, widening the range of his perceptions. It was like drinking milk left for hours in the sun.
The cottage thrummed with dark, vile energy, a blight upon the clearing, like a rotting teeth inside a healthy mouth, and Harry could no longer consider anything about the cottage to be natural. The very idea was as foreign and sickly as the horcrux's signature.
Withdrawing from his state of heightened magical consciousness, he saw that the last strings of the dusk had been cut, giving way completely to night. Thrusting his wand forward, he sliced it in a low arc. A wide, invisible scythe cut through the nettles, while the follow-up Banisher cleared the greenery from the front of the house.
The small windows were completely dark, devoid of glass, yet hinted nothing of the interior of the home. A wooden door, hanging halfway out of the frame, leaned drunkenly in the doorway. With a simple wave of his wand, he summoned it, before tossing it off to the side.
The empty doorway loomed like the maw of some unholy beast, the windows its gaping eyes. Even with the light-amplification spell, pure darkness lay beyond the threshold. Wand at the ready, Harry stepped into the black unknown.
The night seemed to still as Harry crossed the threshold of the abandoned home, as if holding its breath. Standing right inside the doorway he stopped and listened, ears straining. Aside from the thudding of his heart, and the roar of blood in his ears, silence reigned within.
Canceling the light-amplification spell, he quickly thrust his wand forward, conjuring a dull globe a foot across, levitating it in the air. Bit-by-bit, a marginal yellow glow began to emit from it, stinging against the extreme dilation of his pupils. As it brightened, chasing the shadows out of sight, he floated it into the center of the room, where it hovered, slowly illuminating it.
Harry found himself in a room that only vaguely resembled the one he had seen in Dumbledore's pensieve during his sixth year. Little remained of the kitchen and living room combination the Gaunt family had made use of.
The armchair that had merely been ratty over fifty years ago was completely covered in mold and rotting to pieces. The black stove to his right was completely covered in filth and rust. Littered upon the floor were rusted, fading husks of what may once have been cookware, the shelf holding them having completely disintegrated.
Random cracks and splits marred the thin, stained wooden flooring. The boards creaked beneath his feet as he took another step into the newly-lighted cottage. Gazing around, he mused that a Curse-Breaker could probably be in and out in five minutes, but Ancient Runes and Arithmancy had always been beyond him.
His Transfiguration, however, was as sharp as ever.
Waving his wand in a complicated arc, the creaky, rotting floorboards below him began to fade away, as if becoming insubstantial. He could still feel the pressure of his boots upon the warped slats of wood; he had just increased their transparency. The light from the globe passed through the wraith-like planks, revealing nothing but pockmarked dirt.
"Accio ring," he said firmly, his eyes watchful. Unlike his trip to the cave with Dumbledore, his incantation had no visible effect.
Hadn't the Headmaster said that the Horcrux was located beneath the floorboards?
With a heavy sigh, Harry resigned himself to the idea that the retrieval of Slytherin's ring wasn't going to be easy.
Swinging his wand around, he pointed it at one of the misshapen, rotted pots. At once, it began to shift, the mottled brown lightening in shade. Like liquid it flowed, forming into the shape of a white rabbit, which immediately began to hop around the floor. The inanimate-to-animate transformation complete, Harry cast a compulsion upon the rabbit.
Under his control, the rabbit stood still as Harry carefully levitated it through one of the fissures in the floor near the far wall. Starting with the outer perimeter of the foundation, he directed the animal in a square spiral, working towards the middle.
As the rabbit reached the center of the dark earth, he felt an immense, crippling terror flood through the animal's thoughts, before his mental connection was severed. A single high-pitched squeal of terror cut through the room before being silenced as the earth beneath the floor exploded upwards. The flying soil obscured his sight for a moment. By the time it fell, the rabbit had disappeared from sight, leaving behind only a few tufts of white, fluffy fur.
"Shite."
For a moment, Harry cursed Dumbledore's penchant for understatement. Perhaps Slytherin's ring was located just beneath the floorboards, but it was far more involved that he had originally guessed.
Noting the exact spot where the rabbit had vanished, he shifted the floating yellow globe, placing it directly above. The globe bobbed slightly from the movement, but stayed stationary, effectively marking the site. Pointing his wand down, he waved it above the transparent floorboards.
Unlike his trip to Honeydukes, the air remained inert, devoid of glowing lines. The check had come back negative. There were no wards on or around the cottage.
Whatever was hidden in the dirt was sentient. As opposed to wards, Voldemort was using a guardian to protect the horcrux.
Thinking back to his sixth-year journey to the cave, he recalled that while wards were an integral part of the locket's defense, the main threat had been the Inferi hidden beneath the lake.
As much as Harry would like to think that it was Inferi hiding beneath the cabin, he highly doubted it. Whatever had snatched the rabbit was large, as the displacement of dirt had indicated.
"Fucking hell," he swore, running a hand through his hair, before taking a few careful steps backward, placing him just outside the cottage. Beginning to wave his wand around, he began to peel back the floor, levitating the rotting boards into one of the other rooms, stacking the slats atop one another. Piece-by-piece he tore apart the entire interior section of the floor, leaving only a narrow perimeter of walking space two feet wide. Aside from the small depression in the ground directly below the globe, he saw no other anomalies.
A single, deep breath was pulled through his mouth and out his nose, mentally preparing himself for anything. Carefully, he levitated the rotting chair at the rear of the room. Reaching the marked spot, he cancelled the spell, letting it fall to the dirt below.
It struck the dirt lightly, before falling to pieces, the end of its lifespan at hand. Wand at the ready, he was prepared for anything to happen.
Silence.
Dead quiet, with not even the smallest of stirrings from within the depths of the soil, was his only reply.
His teeth still on edge, he levitated one of the heavier, more well-preserved floorboards into the center of the floor, before dropping it.
There was still no reaction.
So why did a smaller object attract attention, and the chair and plank draw nothing?
Mystified, Harry brought his wand down, and began to tap his foot upon the ground. What did the rabbit possess that the other objects did not?
Moments after his feet the earth, a great rumble began to resonate from below the ground. Without thinking, he instinctively flung a Banisher at the ground, lifting him in the air. As soon as he left his feet, the earth exploded beneath him, throwing up dirt and small rocks. Throwing his glance downwards, his heart skipped a beat.
The creature below him was perhaps three feet wide. Eyeless, a large maw took its entire front, with rows of razor-sharp, dirt-stained teeth crowding around the outside edge. Rising up out of the ground, it snapped at his feet, missing by mere inches. Closing its mouth again, Harry saw that its body was segmented, made up of purple rings mottled with brown.
Its bite missing his foot, it quickly sunk back into the ground, burrowing back into the dirt.
Reaching the apex of his leap, as he fell he whipped his wand upwards, conjuring a length of chain. It flew out from his wand, wrapping around a sturdy upper branch of the nearest tree. Right before he hit the ground, he wrapped left hand tightly around the steel links, before jabbing his wand at the conjured link.
As the ground erupted once more, the animated chain began to pull itself upwards, jerking his body roughly. Snapping at his heel, the giant worm rose up from the ground, following his ascent. Whipping his wand down, Harry screamed at the monstrosity.
"Avada kedavra!"
The killing curse leapt from his wand, striking the worm directly in the center of its mouth, but the green light didn't even slow the worm as it rose higher. Bringing his other hand to the chain, he used his arms for support to lift up his legs, just barely missing getting his right foot bitten off. The worm followed him for another few feet, before stopping.
Fifteen feet in the air, the creature swayed slightly, its massive ringed body moving from side to side. Suspended over the worm, Harry commanded the chain to stop pulling, and let down his legs, his entire body aching with exertion from fighting gravity.
As he watched, the worm slid back into the ground, causing Harry to let out a deep, shuddering breath. It was bad enough to deal with a giant killer worm, but a giant killer fucking Inferi worm?
Releasing his wand hand from the chain, Harry scrambled to think of how he was going to handle the worm. Though it was undead, it probably still functioned like a normal worm. It heard his footsteps on the ground, and attacked, as it did for the rabbit, but not for the chair or the plank. It could probably tell the difference in cadence between inanimate objects and living begins. Which meant-
Harry never got the chance to finish the thought, as the tree to which the chain was wrapped around began to shake violently, causing him to swing in the air. At once, the soil broke again, rising up. He began to bring his wand around, but stopped as he saw the worm bend back slightly, before surging forward. Its large maw opening and closing, it began to chew upon the tree, sending splinters flying outwards.
Conceding that perhaps the Inferi worm was smarter than the garden variety worm, Harry whipped his wand down, conjuring a long whip of fire. The coil of fire swung downwards, searing through the purplish hide with minimal resistance. It split the worm open, spilling black ichor from the wound. For a moment, the worm reared back, before slamming its mouth into the tree. With an almighty crack the trunk split, causing the top half of the tree to lean drunkenly backwards. For a moment, he was weightless, before the tree began to fall backwards. Hurriedly, he tried to apparate away, only to find that something held him in place, preventing him from doing so.
The Anti-Apparation wards were up! How?
The weight of hundreds of branches falling down upon him, he let go of the chain and whipped his wand downwards, flinging a Cushioning Charm. As he fell the final few feet, he Vanished the branches above him, before hitting the soft, yielding ground. The rest of the tree fell around him with a colossal bang, like an entire forest falling from sky. The impact kicked up a cloud of dirt and rocks, which rained back to the ground, covering Harry.
Dirt nearly burying him, he heard the earth split as the worm rose from the ground on the other side of the downed tree. It swayed in the air, as if sensing for some sort of sign. Ducking down in a shallow impression in the ground, he cast a powerful Banisher, sending the entire tree flying at the worm. The thick trunk flew into the worm, before pinning it against a larger tree on the other side of the clearing. Caught, the worm thrashed against the bond, contorting its body as it tried to wriggle out.
Running forward, Harry conjured another long Flame Whip, brandishing it above his head. At his footsteps, the segmented body began to turn, lowering its head down, mouth opened wide.
Like he was throwing an uppercut, he jabbed his wand upwards. The fiery chain ate through the purple flesh as it were paper, and cutting through the body. Jerking the chain upwards, it sawed through its upper torso, bisecting the worm down the middle. Black liquid spilled to the ground in a tidal wave as both sides of its body flopped to the side, like a piece of cooked spaghetti.
Harry was immediately soaked by the black blood, the smell of rotting corpses and dirt assaulting his nose. Clearing his eyes with a wave of his wand, he saw a thick fissure open in one of the rings below where the Flame Whip had done its work, widening by the second.
It was still trying to escape!
"I don't fucking think so!" Harry snarled, cutting his wand down. Sweating with concentration, he transfigured the soil housing the worm's body into salt. At once, every inch of the worm began to spasm of the salt absorbed the liquid from its skin. Like a flower wilting the worm shrunk and shriveled, the purplish-brown rings of its hide contracting into dried white husks.
The worm was dead.
Victorious, he let out a deep breath. That had been fucked up, even by Voldemort's standards. And to think, Dumbledore hadn't even mentioned the necro-worm. Was he so powerful that something like a thirty foot killer Inferi worm didn't register?
Shaking his head, Harry quickly summoned Slytherin's ring. A hole immediately appeared in the worm's papery hide, the hidden ring having torn right through it. It was completely covered in black blood and dirt, which he vanished with a wave of his wand, leaving behind a slightly tarnished gold ring with a black stone set into it.
The last remaining artifact of Salazar Slytherin. Older, even.
The Resurrection Stone.
Floating in mid-air, bathed in moonlight, he began to raise his hand towards it. He wanted, needed, to talk to her. As one of the Hallows, it had…
Control seeping back into his mind, he stopped its movements. He couldn't afford to let himself be distracted. The dead were dead, and long gone. Dumbledore found out the hard way, and he wasn't going to come all this way just to make the same mistake.
Turning his wand on the floating ring, it began to heat beneath his palm as he prepared to cast Fiendfyre. The flames just about to erupt from his wand, he heard movement from the path from the road to the clearing. Letting the ring fall to the ground, he quickly rapped himself on the head, the cold of the Disillusionment Charm running down his neck.
Harry shifted a small pile of dirt atop the ring, before creeping towards the deep shadows of the trees. A tall, familiar figure strode into the clearing, purple robed billowing about him, half-moon glasses glinting in the moonlight.
Albus Dumbledore gave the corpse of the necro-worm a curious glance, before his bright blue eyes swept around the clearing, finally settling upon Harry.
"Why hello, Harry."
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The echoes of their combined cries had faded, leaving behind only the pants of labored breathing. Harry rode the breaking wave of his release blissfully, eyes closed, the helpless spasms of his muscles slowing.
He lay on his side atop the smooth silk sheets, her pale, darkly freckled back pressed tightly against his chest. His left hand was draped possessively around her bare midsection, while his right arm was snaked under her lithe body, his hand cupping the lower of her small, perky mounds. Smiling against her vibrant, flowing red hair, he lightly pinched the hardness of her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Ginny let out a deep moan before pressing harder against him. Still sheathed deep within her, she clamped around him tightly, eliciting a harsh intake of breath from Harry.
Gently shifting the hand draped across her midsection, he slid it up, over the curve of her hips, all the way to her left breast. He cupped the pleasant handful for a moment, giving it a slight squeeze, before moving it to her freckle-dotted cheek. Softly, yet firmly, he tilted her head towards his, capturing her lips. She immediately parted them, deepening the kiss as their tongues flicked against one another.
Harry broke the kiss first, resting his head atop hers, draping an arm over her. Letting out a deep sign of contentment, Ginny captured the hand in her own, placing it over her left breast. Beneath it the small, lightly freckled globe, her heart fluttered, thrumming against the rough calluses of his hand.
"That…was spectacular," she declared, letting out another deep breath, which did wonders for the pleasant handful beneath his palm.
"I aim to please, milady," Harry breathed into her ear. She nodded a single time, before pushing back against him.
"It's like a dream," she said airily.
"And that would be the alcohol talking," he lightly taunted.
"No, it's not," she disagreed, shaking her head. "I think you made me sweat out all of the Firewhiskey."
Tightly embraced, facing away from him, Ginny couldn't see the forced tone that his smile took, or the haunted edge that crept into his eyes.
"It…it felt like it used to," she said after a moment of silence.
"Like how?"
"Carefree," she said, choosing the word after brief consideration. "Like we had our whole lives in front of us."
"We still do," Harry answered, holding onto his smile for all it's worth, because it's all fucking lies, it's poison rolling off the tip of his tongue, and it's breaking his heart.
Their time together was almost at an end.
"Did you ever really think we'd be free?" she asked, the wonder in her voice almost child-like.
For a moment, he considered lying, before shaking his head. With what he's about to do, she deserved as much as the truth as he can reveal.
"There…there were long stretches where I didn't even know why we fought. I made speeches, I planned, I inspired as best as I could…but it was like going through the motions, I never thought victory was possible."
"I know what you mean," she admitted. "But…but it's all different now."
Harry goes to reply, to say anything, but found that his mouth was frozen. Again, he's grateful that Ginny can't see his face, because the anguish in his eyes would be unmistakable.
"We finally might be free."
"Maybe," Harry forced out, "But it's still a long road."
"We've come this far, though," she pointed out, before letting out a long, jaw-breaking yawn. Beneath his hand, he can feel her heartbeat begin to settle down into a slow, steady rhythm "Maybe someday we can even begin to think about bringing children into this world."
"There is no good left in this world," Harry replied firmly. "Voldemort destroyed it all. All he left behind was poison, which would infect our kids from the moment they arrived."
"Y-y-you're wrong," she said through another yawn. "As long as two people can love each other like we do, there is still good left in the world."
Guilt knifed through him at her words, deeper than any blade could strike. If he was wrong in his reckoning, it would be him responsible for destroying the last remnants of good in this world, not Voldemort.
"I love you, Ginny," he said, pressed tightly against her, tears beginning to cloud his vision as her breathing slowed further, becoming shallower.
"I…love…you…too…" she murmured quietly, before drifting completely under, her exhalations becoming deeper, slower.
Gently, he withdrew from her, before sliding his arm out from under her. Though normally the act would be enough to rouse her, there had been enough Sleeping Draught in the Firewhiskey to keep her resting for the next day.
At least if he was wrong in his reckoning, she'd be sleeping when the universe tore itself apart.
Picking up his wand, he cleansed his body of the fluids associated with their lovemaking, before quickly dressing. Going over to the bed, where Ginny was soundly asleep, he pulled up the covers, all the way up to her shoulders. Gently, he placed a single kiss upon her forehead, his vision becoming hazy.
"I'm going to go make things right, Gin," he promised, before rising. Wiping an arm across his damp eyes, he strode to the door and passed through it without a look back.
The Sleeping Draught should have ensnared Croaker and Zacharias by now, leaving Hermione as the only unaffected person left in the house. Creeping quietly down the stairs, he took a glance towards her room, to see that the door was still shut tightly.
She was asleep.
Relieved, Harry passed down the rest of the stairs. The worst was over. Now all he had to do was grab the Extractor, his bandolier of potions and his armor, and he'd be ready to take the final step of this journey, leaving behind Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for the final time.
To the ruins of the Ministry of Magic.
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"Good evening, Professor," Harry replied in an even tone, revealing nothing of his frenzied thoughts. "I'm surprised to see you here."
"I must admit that Lady Luck aided my efforts to find you. This was the seventh place I checked, and my prospects grew dimmer with each apparation."
"Just think: If you had arrived a few minutes earlier, you would have been able to see first-hand one of Voldemort's most vile creations," he said, motioning towards the dry husk of the necro-worm.
What was left unsaid was that Harry had been less than a minute away from leaving. The passing seconds tugged at him, but he maintained his passive façade. He couldn't afford to rush anything at this juncture.
If Dumbledore knew the full extent of Harry's plan, he'd do everything in his power to stop him.
"What exactly was it?" the Headmaster asked, giving the white remains another curious glance.
"A giant, killer Inferi worm."
"That must have been…a rather unpleasant experience."
"It was," agreed Harry, before deciding enough pleasantries had been passed. "How did you find me?"
"When reports of the attack upon Gringotts first surfaced, it was reported that Lucius Malfoy had initiated the attack. However, one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, Dedalus Diggle, who accosted Lucius while waiting to get into Gringotts, swore that he saw the exact pair of eyes blazing with intensity while on a patrol of Hogwarts with Kingsley and Hestia."
"Shite," swore Harry. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows slightly, before continuing.
"By the way, I must thank you for not killing any of the Aurors."
Harry shook his head in response.
"They didn't ask to be dragged into this," he answered simply. "They were just doing their job."
"I see that this courtesy does not extend to the goblin security forces," Dumbledore coldly pointed out.
"Putting the Wizarding world's wealth in the hands of those creatures was one of its worst mistakes," spat Harry. "I assure you, I've seen what they're capable of. Being incapable of mercy, they deserve none."
"I cannot condone these actions, Harry. One of the goblins saw you kill six goblins with a single curse, Harry, and claimed it was you that cast the first curse."
"Of course they would!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm sure that they left out the fact that the first spell I cast was a shield, to protect myself from their arrows. Granted, it's all lies anyway, since I didn't leave behind any witnesses."
Dumbledore shook his head.
"The goblin you left behind in the Lestrange Vault, Griphook, survived. Not only was he able to provide an accurate description of you, which matched the one given to me by Sirius, but he was able to tell me about the golden cup you took from the Lestrange Vault."
Harry said nothing, watching Dumbledore with careful eyes. His hands were bare, but the Headmaster's reflexes were still quick as lightning, and could probably draw faster than Harry could cast.
"Admittedly, it is this detail which troubles my mind more than any. The Harry that I know would never consider nearly killing his godfather, which you almost did during your break-in to the Black family home."
"Of course I didn't want to hurt him," Harry said, glaring at Dumbledore. "Once the choice was taken out of my hands, I hurt him just enough to escape. My time is short, Professor. What do you want?"
"Sirius was able to give a description of the locket that you took from Grimmauld Place. It sounded rather familiar."
"Did it?" Harry asked, revealing nothing. His question prompted Dumbledore to let out a heavy sigh.
"Slytherin's Locket, and Hufflepuff's Cup. The last time I saw them, they were in Voldemort's possession. I can only assume that it was those objects which drew you back into the past, but why? What are the objects, Harry?"
"I think you already know," replied Harry. "Or at least suspect. It wasn't just any ordinary diary that I destroyed during my second year, Professor."
"No, it was not," the Headmaster agreed, the cogs in his mind beginning to turn. "I believed it to be a horcrux, as it would have explained Voldemort's survival, but with the carelessness that it was treated, I could not be…."
Dumbledore trailed off, his blue eyes widening in the moonlight.
"It cannot be…"
"It can, and it was," Harry replied grimly. "Voldemort created six horcruxes, of which this is the last."
Summoning Slytherin's ring, he levitated it into the air. It glittered, the starlight reflected off of the flawless gold. Dumbledore's eyes followed the movement of the ring as it bobbed in the air.
Harry let out a mental sigh of relief. The first pitfall had been avoided. Someone as skilled as Dumbledore could not be lied to, but through judicial use of misdirection and omission, he might be able to hide his true intentions from the Headmaster.
"It can't be touched," Harry warned, as Dumbledore reached out for it.
"What curse is placed upon it?"
"I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "Only that it was enough to strike a fatal wound upon you during my sixth year."
Dumbledore's hand froze in place.
"Then I thank you for informing me of this fact," he said, bowing his head slightly. "What do you plan to do with it?"
Instead of answering with words, Harry swung out with his wand. A brilliant tongue of fire leapt out from it, engulfing the floating ring. It was reduced to molten slag within moments, which fell from the air, the droplets splattering upon the ground below.
"Concentrated Fiendfyre? Quite impressive, Harry. So that was the final horcrux?"
Unable to think of a quick way to deflect the question, he chose to ignore it.
"The destruction of the horcruxes will not kill Voldemort. His mortal body must still be destroyed."
"Do you know where his is?"
Harry nodded a single time.
"Then let us end this tonight."
He closed his eyes at the Headmaster's offer. Despite breaking into Azkaban, destroying Gringotts and harming people at the school he presided over, Dumbledore still acknowledged that Voldemort's defeat would not be without cost.
"No," Harry answered, opening his eyes, regret in his words.
The final step was his alone to take. It was the only way it could happen.
"No?"
"No," Harry reiterated, more firmly this time. "If I thought I could trust you, don't you think that reaching out to you would have been my first move?"
"When have I ever given you reason not to trust me?" Dumbledore quietly asked, after a moment of heavy silence.
"I don't know!" Harry exclaimed, injecting frustration into his voice. "Where do I start? Since you left me with my abusive Aunt and Uncle instead of the countless Wizarding families that would have taken me in! Since you withheld the Prophecy from me until I was fifteen! Since you refused to give me any advanced training, leaving me unprepared to fight a war against Voldemort on my own once you died at the end of my sixth year?"
The resentment was real, but not nearly as deep as Harry made it out to be. Dumbledore was closing in quickly to the heart of the matter, and Harry needed to keep him away from it all costs.
Dumbledore's eyes recoiled slightly at the outburst, but his gaze remained level.
"As I believe you know, I wished to spare you such a large burden. I wanted to allow you the chance at a happy childhood."
Harry let out a mocking laugh.
"For the first ten years of my life, I knew nothing but hatred and emotional abuse from my 'family'. Your idea of a happy childhood leaves much to be desired."
"Be that as it may," Dumbledore plowed on, "I cannot change the past. Am I to browbeat you for putting the fate of the universe at stake for trying to do the same? No, I think not. Our choices are made, what is done is done. Let us take this opportunity to make the future right."
"I don't think so, Professor," Harry said, his heart heavy.
"Why, Harry? What is it that you are trying to hide from me? I have already assured you that…"
Dumbledore trailed off, the truth of the matter revealing itself. At once, Dumbledore's eyes hardened, his wand leaping into his hand.
"No, I cannot allow this to happen."
"I know you can't," Harry admitted sadly, raising his own wand.
Silence stretched out after his sad, defeated admission. Dumbledore, lit by moonlight, his bright purple robes stirring slightly in the breeze, his bright blue eyes mired in sadness, looked no more eager to cross wands than Harry did. Yet the Headmaster's lined face was set in determination, and there could be no doubt he would fight to preserve what he thought right.
For that matter, so would Harry.
He led out with a Reductor Curse, slinging the spell low. It fell short of the Headmaster, throwing up a cloud of dirt. Harry jabbed his wand forward, launching an ice spear, but Dumbledore had already vanished the wave of earth, before stopping the projectile in mid-air.
Harry's second Reductor struck the ice construct, detonating it in a rain of chips. Dumbledore easily vanishing the flying shards, before swinging his wand down. At once the ground beneath Harry's feet grew insubstantial as he sunk into the earth. Whipping his wand down, he slung a Banisher, before prematurely detonating it. The resulting impact threw him backwards, his body ripping free from the clutches of the makeshift quicksand with a loud sucking sound.
He rolled backwards on the packed soil a single time, before leaping up just in time to swat away a Stunner. Across the clearing, he saw Dumbldore swing out with his wand. From the end of Elder Wand hung a thin whip-like protrusion, perhaps thirty feet long, which appeared to be made from flowing water.
Harry immediately leapt into the air, waving his wand as he did so, transfiguring the approaching whip into stone. The long whip passed right under his feet as the sudden increase in weight dragged Dumbledore off-balance, to his right. As he stumbled, he released the stone whip, allowing it to fly off to the side.
Landing nimbly, Harry circled around to his right, Transfiguring the ground beneath Dumbledore's feet to ice. With a flick of his wand, the Headmaster reverted the ice back to earth, solidifying his footing.
Though their exchanges so far had yielded a draw, Harry took solace that he had at least gained a better position. Instead of Dumbledore directly blocking his escape route, the path back through the narrow hedgerows, the passage now lay directly to his right.
"I can appreciate that you're not trying to kill me, Harry," the Headmaster calmly intoned, showing no signs of slowing down, "but I advise you to lay down your wand. You are clearly talented, but longer duels often become wars of attrition, with injury befalling even the best-intentioned of combatants."
"I've done this before, Professor," replied Harry. "I'm just hoping your staying power isn't up to its former levels."
"We shall see," conceded Dumbledore, before Harry jabbed his wand forward, starting off his spell-chain with a Banisher, before cutting it to the side, and up, launching a Disarmer. Through the Auror spell chain he went, his wand a blur of movement as he continued to cast, in order, a Body-Bind, Stunner, Disarmer, Confundus Charm before going back to the Banisher and going through the process again.
Dumbledore, however, was more than up to the task. Though his wand moved no more quickly, his movements were perfect, without a single millimeter of wasted motion. Like a swordsman he swatted the incoming spells out of the air, canceling them in showers of brightly colored sparks.
The third time Harry went through the chain, Dumbledore still showed no signs of fatigue, bearing the barrage of spell-fire with patience, gaining ground. Disintegrating the Body-Bind, Dumbledore then jabbed his wand forward, catching the Stunner. The crimson spell rocketed back at Harry, who deflected it into the night sky. He brought his back down, only to see a ton of earth levitated from the ground and Banished at him.
Whipping his wand forward, Harry attempted to Vanish the great mass, but it was far too much. It flowed around him like water, the dirt forming into a cocoon around him, before beginning to close in, the dirt walls changing into rock. Bringing his wand down, Harry quickly Vanished the soil beneath his feet. A second before the walls closed completely in, Harry dropped out of the cocoon of stone, into the small hollow in the earth.
Crouched low, he swung his wand to the side, beginning to Vanish more of the earth. Seeing the sky once again, he rocketed out from the depression in the earth. The large cocoon of stone blocking Dumbledore's line of sight, Harry took off towards the path, ducking into the narrow space between the two hedgerows.
"Harry, stop!" Dumbledore's voice pleaded from the clearing, but Harry paid no heed, his feet pounding upon the hard earth. At once, the hedgerows began to fold inwards, the long brambles grasping at him.
Whipping his wand about his body, Harry launched a multi-directional Banisher, blowing the grasping branches away from his body, snapping them into pieces. Moving forward, he felt something grab his ankle, and pull backwards, sending him crashing to the ground. Whipping his head around, Harry saw that two of the thicker branches, had gotten through the blast, and had wrapped around his left leg. With a snarl, he severed the thicker of the two with a quick cutting curse.
Lining up the second shot, flames exploded in front of Harry. Squinting against the bright flare of fire, he saw Fawkes emerge, talons outstretched. At the phoenix dove towards him, the branch jerked backwards, pulling him back towards the clearing. The sudden movement caused Fawkes to fly past him, just barely missing Harry.
Thrusting his wand forward, he severed the branch with another Cutter. Freeing himself, he turned, to see Fawkes charging towards him, talons outstretched. At once, Harry jabbed his wand forward.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The bright green curse struck the phoenix center-mass, detonating it in a flash of flames and crimson feathers. Featherless and smoking it fell to the ground, no larger than a chick.
Harry immediately sprinted forward, shouldering his way through the thick hedgerow. The plants immediately came to life, but a quick Vanishing Spell eliminated his resistance, opening a path all the way to the road.
"Harry, don't do this!" screamed Dumbledore behind him, his voice tortured.
Ignoring the desperate plea, Harry cleared the hedgerow, reaching the road.
"I'm sorry Professor" he said, "But there's no other way."
With a slight pop, he apparated away.
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The Anti-Apparation wards were only the simplest layer of the wide security net that blanketed the ruins of the Ministry of Magic. No method of magical transportation could hope to get a wizard within a hundred feet of the site. The underground complex was nearly universally assumed to be impenetrable.
Which was the problem with assumptions.
Green flames roared within the sole functioning fireplace within the Ministry as Harry was spat from the churning maelstrom. Coughing, he landed hard upon his knees, the impact jarring him.
It had taken him several weeks to figure out how to break into the abandoned site, all without alerting any of the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix, but he had finally done it, and repaired one of the least-damaged of the fireplaces. He hadn't wanted to connect it to Grimmauld Place, but plugging it into the heavily monitored Floo Network would have been suicidal, and would have compromised both his secret entrance to the Ministry and Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.
Standing up, he brushed the stray ashes from his cloak, his gaze wondering about the Atrium.
What once was majestic was now only ruin. A great deal of the ceiling had been dislodged, leaving gargantuan chunks of stone scattered across the lobby, peacock-blue paint visible on the bottom sides. The collapse of the ceiling had completely demolished the wooden floor, battering it to splinters, dark stone peeking from beneath.
On the few sections of the ceiling which remained intact, the dull symbols that once flowed across like goldfish in a pond had fallen still and gleamed no longer.
Avoiding the worst parts of the floor, Harry deftly wove between the dislodged ceiling. The rows of fireplaces on either side of him had been blasted into oblivion long ago, the shattered mortar having long ago fallen to dust.
No water flowed within the circular fountain in the middle of the Atrium, a large chunk of stone having fallen onto the rim, releasing all the water. All that remained inside the circular enclosure were piles of dusty Sickles and bronze Knuts. Of the grotesque sculpture commissioned by Voldemort during Pius Thicknesse's brief tenure there was no sign.
The golden gates which had once separated the Atrium from the hallway containing the bank of elevators had been smashed flat by chunks of falling ceiling. A few solitary bars poked from the rubble, like the limbs of earthquake survivors. Of the security desk where Harry had checked his wand during his fifth year, there was no sign. Clambering swiftly over the debris, he leapt down, landing on the other side of the hallway.
The damage incurred to the rear of the Atrium was far less severe. Only small chunks of the ceiling were missing, and the paneled wood lining the walls was intact, though retained none of its former sheen, being covered in dust. On the rear wall was a bank of twenty elevators, placed side-to-side. The golden grilles in front of each lift had either been torn completely away, or smashed inward, making the elevator an impossibility to open.
Not that he had any intention of relying on the lifts. Using a lift that hadn't seen any sort of maintenance in years was suicidal, at kindest. Going to one of the elevators divested of its grill, Harry parted the thick doors with a wave of his wand. They screeched open begrudgingly on rust covered tracks, revealing a darkened shaft, stretching out to each side, beyond his line of sight.
Reaching into his robes, he withdrew a shrunken broom, expanding it with a tab of his wand. Mounting the Cleansweep Five, he hopped aboard and flew into the wide shaft, holding his lit wand like a flashlight. It pushed back the darkness, revealing that the lifts were suspended by vertical cords attached to massive wheels on the ceiling. Nearly every elevator was placed at a different height, with each metal cord frayed and battered, unraveling string by string.
Feeling renewed confidence in his decision not to use the lifts, he flew down the long shaft, all the way to the bottom. Forcing open another door at the bottom, he passed through it, entering the Ninth Level of the Ministry of Magic.
The Department of Mysteries.
To Harry's amazement, it looked completely undisturbed, as if it had been excluded from the calamity which had claimed the rest of London. It could have been a photograph of the sight that had greeted him during his trip at the end of his fifth year.
Swiftly passing down the corridor, still lit by flicking torchlight, he passed through the plain black door at the end, entering into the circular room. The eerie blue-flamed candles met his sight, blurring to neon streaks as the door swung shut behind him, the room spinning.
Without hesitation he moved to his right, placing his hand upon one of the black doors. It remained still beneath his touch, with no hint of give, where so many years ago he had destroyed Sirius' knife. With a deep sigh, he recited the words Martin Croaker, former Unspeakable, had revealed to him.
"I seek knowledge not for gain, but to better understand myself."
The door immediately swung open, and Harry stepped through the darkened threshold at once.
His journey was nearly complete.
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Harry arrived in an all too familiar graveyard. Beams of moonlight shone down from the heavens, illuminating the crumbling, overgrown markers and monuments. His eyes darted around the immediate area, scanning the graveyard, before moving his gaze to the black outline of the church, and the fine old house that topped the nearby hill.
He was alone.
Immediately he clawed at his neck, withdrawing the pocket watch. The hour hand was stopped at eleven, while the minute hand was pointing straight up.
One hour remained.
Letting out a deep breath, Harry counted his blessings, realizing how lucky he had been. He felt dirty, irrevocably soiled about felling Fawkes, a creature of pure intention, with a killing curse, but it was a matter of necessity. He couldn't have allowed Fawkes to fire-transport him back to the clearing.
One did not get lucky twice against Albus Dumbledore.
Crouching down low to the ground, he ducked behind the shadow of a nearby yew tree. He put his back to it, and sank to the ground. The adrenaline of battle beginning to wear off, he begin to feel a bone-deep weariness settled upon his being, along with a persistent pain from both his midsection and right leg.
The rigors of the day were beginning to take their toll.
Running a hand over his clothed stomach, he felt blood seeping through the fabric. Opening wide his robes, he discovered that the bonds holding the two sides of the puncture had split, allowing the rent in his flesh to grow. Waving his wand, he re-sealed the wound, forcing it closed. It was a temporary fix, but was all that Harry needed at this point.
He only required one more hour.
The pain in his right leg he could do nothing for. Instead, he withdrew a Rejuvenation Draught from the potions bandolier, before downing the blue liquid in a single gulp. Strength immediately flowed back into his limbs, awakening them from their deadened state. Vanishing the empty phial, he considered his options.
Harry had hoped that the trip to the Gaunt cottage would be a quick one, allowing him the time to make a side trip to the Riddle home and kill Wormtail. However, with the delays incurred between fighting both the necro-worm and Dumbledore…
Many times he had pored over his memory of the Third Task in a pensieve, but not once did his past self glance at the watch during his trip through the maze. Other than a vague guess, he had no idea at what time Harry was going to arrive, nor what time Wormtail was going to come down. The last thing he wanted to happen was to sneak up to the Riddle home, only to miss Wormtail and allow the traitor to kill Cedric again.
For a moment, he sat in silence, before rising to his feet and glancing around the tree. The coast was still clear.
"Fuck it," spat Harry, prepared to break cover and make the trek up to the house on the hill. With such little time, he couldn't afford to sit around and do nothing.
Without warning, a large gust of wind echoed throughout the graveyard, quickly followed by the distinctive thuds of two pairs of feet hitting the ground. Glancing around the tree, hidden by darkness, he saw his younger self fall to the ground, the Triwizard Cup tumbling from his fingers.
"Where are we?" his fourteen year-old self questioned, his voice shaky. Green eyes darted about frantically, unblemished and untarnished by the horrors that the older version had lived through.
Cedric Diggory, equally unnerved, could only reply with a shake of his head.
In the silence that followed, Harry thought of the shock he had felt at that moment, seeing the dark and overgrown graveyard. It was at this moment that his innocence had irreparably shattered, and the true nature of the world had been revealed.
"Did anyone tell you the Cup was a portkey?" Cedric asked.
"Nope," replied Harry, looking warily around the graveyard. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"
The script was clear to him now. Shortly, Cedric would suggest that the two of them withdraw their wands. They would set out, only to have Harry's scar explode, and Wormtail fell Cedric with a killing curse.
It was time to intervene.
"Forgive me," he whispered, before stepping out from behind the tree. Though his conscience screamed for him to stop, he shut it out, rapidly approaching the two Champions. They stood side-by-side, Cedric nearly half-a-foot taller, gazing into the darkness.
His Stunner caught the unaware sixth-year directly in the back, dropping him to the ground. Grief overcame Harry's mind as he immediately swung his wand to the right, pointing it directly at his younger self. Before his younger self had even begun to turn, Harry thrust his wand forward, burying his guilt as deeply as he could.
"Avada Kedavra."
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Author Notes:
My apologies for leaving you all with such a cruel cliffhanger, but it was the most logical place to end the chapter. I know the duel with Dumbledore may have been a bit short, but as I had Harry mention, Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the world, the only one that Voldemort feared. Harry was not going to get lucky twice.
One full chapter, and then the epilogue, and this story shall be complete. The next chapter won't be out for a while. I know what happens, but I still have a lot of details to iron out before I even begin to think about writing the finale. Again, I think chapter 2 of 'Ouroboros' will be next, but we shall see.
Thanks to Grinning Lizard for his help with making my writing not suck in places.
Thanks for Swimdraconian and jbern for their assistance.
Thanks to Princess Serine and Liron-Aria for their hard work on the chapter.
Sadly, the FF review system has been down for a while, not allowing me to reply to a lot of the reviews I've received as of late. I apologize for that, but it is out of my hands. The system seems to be running slightly better now, so I should be able to reply to the reviews submitted for this latest chapter.
As always, I very much enjoy feedback. Even a simple "liked it" or "it sucked" is usually enough to coerce me back to the computer. The hugely positive response I received last chapter brought me back more quickly than anticipated, opting to bang out this chapter instead of going back to 'Ouroboros'.
DLP Thanks:
shinysavage, Euro, fanficlover, The Berkley Hunt, Provis, CheddarTrek, Basilisk, Tempus Fugit, Tenages, Ceebee