A/N: Here's the next update. I know I screwed up my own update schedule but we're so close now I just want to get this done! I started posting Midnight Sun on 10/22/09, now its 10/19/11 so this ride has been going for 2 years. It's been a long one but fun for me, hopefully for you as well!

Chapter 36- Hope & Honour

DARK LORD DEFEATED! LORD & HEIR LESTRANGE DEAD!

It is the duty of the Daily Prophet to report this baffling news. On December 22nd, the body of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was discovered in an abandoned manor, along with those of ex-convict Rodolphus Lestrange and his son Torian Lestrange. The Lestrange heir was 16 years old. Auror investigation has proved that the death of the Dark Lord was brought about by a Magic-Poison potion, the bottle of which had Torian Lestrange's fingerprints on it.

This extraordinary news proves beyond a doubt that the death of Voldemort (we many now freely print his name) was brought about by a young former Death Eater. This fact alone brings many questions to mind, first of which is what about Zachary James Godric Potter, the well-known and praised child of prophecy? The prophecy implied, according to Albus Dumbledore (Supreme Mugwump, Order of Merlin First Class) that Zachary was the only one able to defeat the Dark Lord.

Clearly this is not the case. Minister for Magic Rufus Scrimgeour had this to say on the subject: "We shall be looking into the legitimacy of the prophecy lodged in the Department of Mysteries. According to eyewitnesses and students, the Seer involved, Sybil Trelawney has been accused of being a fraud. In the meantime, Torian Lestrange will be accorded a posthumous Order of Merlin, First Class and forever has our most sincere gratitude."

For more on Zachary Potter and the Prophecy, turn to page 3.

For more on Albus' Dumbledore's efforts during the war, turn to page 5.

When Rial received word of Torian's death, he curled up on the settee in the living room and cried. All he could see was the quiet, bookish young pureblood who had been so determined to help their cause, had given his very life to help their cause. He knew he wasn't the only one fighting guilt, Severus had all but said he should have realised what Torian was planning. The only consolation in his friend's death had been the death of Rodolphus Lestrange as well. He had known all along that Torian wanted a chance to avenge his grandfather.

Rial sat curled up with the Daily Prophet in hand, fist clenched in the printed paper. Torian had brought about not one but two of their goals and all he felt was an ache in his chest and chills throughout his body. His eyes burned with yet more tears but he refused to shed them, instead staring with grim satisfaction at the words that implied the Ministry's doubt in Zachary. Now that stupid little peacock would know what it was like to be on the other side of fame. Strangely he felt very little satisfaction at his rival and ex-twin's inglorious defeat.

In the grand scheme of things, Zachary had really meant very little. He was a minor annoyance, a fly to be swatted. Father dead, fame stripped away, yes, that was enough of a defeat for him. Rial would not waste any more time on Zachary, not with Albus no doubt waiting in the wings. Those who thought Albus would step down easily were no doubt in for a very nasty surprise.

In Rial's mind Albus was like a large spider, spinning a grand and immense web of intrigue and power. On one side was the Ministry, another his precious Order of the Phoenix, a third held the school and his influence on future generations. Rial intended to take away two-thirds of his power base. The Ministry was already well on its way, if the paper was any indicator. Now it was time to remove him from the school. This would take careful planning.

If worse came to worse, Rial's mouth thinned. He had killed once; he could and would do so again if necessary. If Albus refused to step down, it would perhaps become the necessary step to take. He would not dishonour Torian's memory by hesitating when given the opportunity. Briefly the prophecy of the Midnight Sun flashed in his eyes and his mood darkened.

The one thing Rial savoured the most was his control over his life. Giving up that control to the flighty temptress called Fate was not appetizing in the least. But really, how much control had he been given in the first place? Was he his own master as he believed, or was everything an illusion pushing him toward that single, ultimate goal? He shook off his maudlin thoughts with effort and stood, heading for his father's study. Sirius and Severus had requested his presence there at noon; it was about ten 'til now.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve; even here on the Italian coast the house elves had strung lights and tinsel around the manor. Their tree had been brought in from the interior mountains and was cheerfully decorated with red, gold and purple lights and bright, beautiful glass or crystal ornaments. Yesterday and today however, the mood was quite solemn. They had lost one of their own and they all mourned him in their own way.

Last night Rial had gathered with Draco, Blaise and Pansy and had lit a large pale green taper candle with Torian's name carved elegantly into the side. As the sun had set they each told their friend how they missed and honoured him and their pride at his bravery and cunning. They gave him their last words of friendship and regard. After they had finished Rial had opened one of Torian's favourite poetry books (Shakespeare) and had read a few of his most-loved poems, well-marked with dog-eared pages. They had all remained there until the last of the candle had burned away, well past the midnight-hour.

The death of Torian had hit Remus especially hard. Rial knew he was thinking of the daughter he carried, due in May. His fiercest goal was to have the war over by the time the little Lady Malfoy arrived, something he knew Remus wished for above anything else. When Lucius Malfoy had learned they expected a daughter, the first female Malfoy born in several generations, he had not been able to remove the rather amusingly idiotic smile from his expression all day. This had brought about much good-natured ribbing from Severus, who was in his own way quite happy for his friend.

Rial had reached his father's study and knocked on the door. Receiving a faint invitation to enter, he opened the door and walked inside, shutting it behind him. Severus sat quietly in a very heavy, straight-backed chair to Sirius' left, a tumbler of what Rial guessed to be Firewhiskey in easy reach. He arched one fine eyebrow at Severus, ignoring the man's obvious disgruntlement at having his own expression turned on him so successfully. Eyeing the glass he commented dryly, "Who was it warning me the other day about using alcohol as a coping mechanism?"

"Impudent little snake," Severus muttered, but Rial could see his lips attempting to twitch into a smile.

Sirius snorted. "Have a seat, Rial. Did you see the Daily Prophet?"

Rial nodded curtly, sitting across from his father. He hesitated and after a moment said, "Even though this completes a goal and furthers another, it doesn't feel a much of a relief as it should."

Sirius regarded his son quietly for a long moment and spoke. "I know exactly what you mean, Rial. Even though we've won, it's not much worth celebrating, is it? Like me you probably wish that goal had been attainable without costing the life of your friend. It's why Severus is sitting here with a glass of alcohol and I've been resisting the urge to hex everything in sight."

"It was probably the same for Lucius as well, wasn't it? He lost his father after all. And Torian, he lost his grandfather, though Taryen was more like his father, wasn't he? And Severus," Rial looked over at his quiet former Head of House, briefly locking eyes with him, "his father died as well. How many more are we going to lose to this?" To his embarrassment and horror he felt his eyes film with tears. He looked down as he finished, swallowing heavily.

Sirius regarded the bent head of his son for a long moment before speaking. When he did so, it was slow and careful, weighing the impact of each word. "Sometimes I forget just how young you are, Rial. Look at me and never be embarrassed by your feelings. They make us human after all. That's all we are in the end, ordinary human beings gifted with extraordinary abilities."

Rial looked up, slowly. When green was finally visible Severus spoke up. "Everyone involved in the war made their choices, Rial. As for how many more, I sincerely hope for none on our side. None at all, actually. War seems like a game, a chess match on a board. After it's over pieces knit back together and are ready to play again. Now you see its true face, the darkest face. Broken pieces remain so; a choice made in an instant can have a lifetime of impact. All that's left for the living after the loss of another is to honour their memory and keep going, to make it worth something. That is what we must do for Torian, for Varian, Taryen and my father Lucien. You must not lose hope, for that is the truest way to belittle their sacrifices."

Rial's eyes lit fiercely. "I will never give up. We are so close, to end it now is pure cowardice. I am no coward."

"If there is one trait you inherit from your father," Severus murmured, "it would be his courage."

"Not my intelligence?" Sirius pouted.

"What intelligence?" Severus returned with a very small smirk.

"Someday," Sirius whined to his son, "you'll have to show me how to beat him in an argument, Rial."

Severus and Rial exchanged a quick glance and said in unison, "Not going to happen."

Sirius groaned in reply.