River Styx

by Kiotary

Harry chose to join Voldemort and is now known as Filldeserp, his most loyal follower and heir. Years later, can Neville and the remaining of the Order of the Phoenix have the strength to fight two powerful Dark Lords? PreHBP. Translation of the fic by Parvati-Blossom.

13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Neither this story or the characters belong to me. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Parvati-Blossom. I am just a humble translator who wishes to share this story with the English-speaking community.

Warning: This story contains strong language and images. Torture is a common thing in the dark side, please keep that in mind.

I'm sorry this took so long! It took me forever to edit this chapter for some reason... But here it is! Enjoy! And please, please, I hope I can read a lot of comments!

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Oh... There is a word repeated a few times this chapter that might confuse people. There's no real explanation I can give for it at this time. It is just how the story goes.

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Chapter 13

Diagon Alley

December 16th, 2004

Time: 3:10PM

It was a winter day like any other, with a cold that froze the tip of the toes, and slow drops of rain that could almost be considered snowflakes. Diagon Alley, however, was a hectic as in previous Christmas. Teenagers, adults, and older people made their shopping cheerfully, though with caution. People did not stay long in the stores. With the numerous attacks the Dark Order had imposed over England during the last months, nobody felt safe anywhere. Much less in such an obvious place like Diagon Alley, which still showed remains of the last attack suffered in July.

Among the crowd, a couple walked through the Alley, laughing and enjoying that time together, not paying attention to the somber faces of the aurors patrolling the area, who had walked pass them, identifying them as another regular couple.

They could not have been more wrong.

"I am embarrassed to think that I was outwitted as easily," Hermione muttered. Harry laughed while he examined the new broomstick model at the Magical Sports Store.

"Everything is easier to understand when you are in the side of the villain." Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Do you use this appearance a lot?"

"I have many persona, if that's what you mean. My current one often does a lot of transactions at Gringotts and it's known as one of the greatest investors in the experiments performed at the Department of Mysteries." Harry's smile widened in such way that Hermione was able to see that he found the irony very amusing.

Obviously, neither the Dark Lord nor his fiancée were showing their true appearances. The glamour changes were truly useful, although Hermione had questioned if they would not be too easily detected. Afterall, the Order was already aware it was Filldeserp's favorite trick.

However, the heir had assured her that more than knowledge was needed to remove a glamour charm. Magic of the same level was needed, but also a perception of it; a feat that was not easy. To sense the essence of dark magic so advanced, even for the great Aurors, was a difficult task. Although Filldeserp did not disagree that Dumbledore could have done so easily.

"Will we be at this store much longer?" Hermione asked annoyed. Her fiancé gave her a smirk.

"I had wanted to see with my own eyes the new product. I haven't flown in so long…" He muttered with a hint of longing. Hermione narrowed her eyes, unaware of the truth of that statement.

Filldeserp had not really explained the mission of that day. He had merely shown up during lunch, informing her that they would pay a short visit to the Alley. Hermione knew that nothing good could come out of that situation, but she accepted anyway. Fresh air and the real world would do her well. However, she had made Filldeserp promise he would not take her to another Hogwarts dungeon to torture people, and he had agreed to the peaceful day.

It was probably just a spy mission or the exchange of some vital information.

"I've even been thinking that it would be nice to attend the next Quidditch game between the Tutshill Tornados and the Galmouth Falcons…"

"To cause terror or for entertainment?" Hermione questioned with distrust.

"By that question I can assume you don't consider a small attack as entertainment…"

"Of course not, and you'll never get me to change my mind."

The camouflaged Dark Lord gave her a challenging smile and with his arm intertwined with hers, they continued their walk through Diagon Alley.

It was an odd experience for Hermione. When she was an auror and she had to patrol a public area, she had always worn her Ministry uniform. When she patrolled for the Order, she dressed in muggle clothes, and she did the same when she went out on her own. She had never worn the typical clothes of those who were more used to live in the magical environment; and she had especially not ambitioned wearing something so worthy of those in the nobility. But there she was, suddenly feeling as if she was the wife of Lucius Malfoy.

"I challenge you to detect all the members of the Order wandering around the place," Harry whispered in her ear.

"It is not a real challenge. As a member of the Order, I know all their moves and faces…"

"Previous member, you mean. Besides, they probably changed their maneuvers, assuming you knew them, and as such, me too."

Hermione sighed and accepted his challenge. She observed the crowd carefully, trying not to set her eyes for long on one set area. She felt embarrassed that she was able to recognize three people at first glance.

"Everything is easier from the perspective of the villain," she whispered and Filldeserp nodded.

"Now, try it with your element."

In the last weeks she had been training constantly and had managed to link herself with her element in almost every aspect. One of the things that improved when she came in contact with her internal magic was her perception of reality, as if her eyes could recognize the figure and background simultaneously, without any real effort.

She was surprised when she discovered one of the members of the Order pretending to examine the same broom that Filldeserp had set his eyes on before, and with a solidified glamour. There was another one sitting in one of the bars, chatting with the owner.

Why were there so many?

"Interesting, isn't it?" Harry said. "There's obviously been a lick of information."

"Do you think… the same rat?"

"That's correct. That little rat thinks it's smarter than the cat… but the only thing it's done is fall on the trap…"

Hermione remained silent as there was no possible answer to the cruelty and slyness showing in Filldeserp's eyes.

"Well, it's time to finish our stroll."

"Was this everything we came to do?"

"You wish." It was then when Filldeserp guided her to Gringotts.

The place, as usual, was bursting in activity; although by the goblin's disinterested expression, such agitation could have gone unnoticed. For Hermione, from her first time entering the bank over thirteen years before, it had always been overwhelming. Its immense proportions and the power seemingly focused there. As a muggleborn, she had never held a vault in the tunnels under the premises; but she had always been attracted by their enigma.

Naturally, she wanted to know what there was behind those creatures; how their ancestors had come to be there, how they had designed the building… what kind of magic prospered there that gave them such security, such power.

"Monsieur Mathieu," she heard someone call and, since Filldeserp turned on that direction, she also paid attention to the person. To her great surprise, she found herself facing the minister of magic, Ernie Macmillan.

"Mr. Macmillan," Harry answered with a slight French accent that amazed Hermione. "It's a pleasure meeting you."

"Same here. I was not expecting you in England. What brings you to our noble land?" Ernie asked with a bright smile.

"Private business to deal with the goblins."

"I trust you are not in any trouble?"

"Of course not, minister. I could not be more satisfied with the alliances I have formed." Hermione continued her observation of the exchange with her mouth open, not able to believe what she was seeing. "Allow me to introduce my fiancée, Harmonie Debois."

"Mademoiselle." The minister bowed as courtesy and Hermione offered, almost as a reflex, her hand, which was delicately kissed. "You are very fortunate, Hugues. I congratulate you."

"Merci," Hermione answered almost in a stutter, and with her face blushing.

Harry –or Hugues Mathieu- exchanged a few more words with the minister before they went their separate ways. After been questioned whether he knew he would ran into the minister, Filldeserp confessed it had not been in his plans, but that it had not been an inconvenience. He then continued to tell her the history of his glamour.

The Mathieu family had legendary and favorable political relations with the Malfoys, whose ancestors had been countrymen. A year after the start of the Dark Age, to block alliances, they had been forced to send a representative to be interviewed by the English Ministry. It had not been a pleasant situation as Lucius Malfoy had lost all prestige after been found once more in delinquent activities, and there was a rumor that the Mathieu family had been corrupted the same way.

Hugues Mathieu had then come to the scene. He was a charming, honest man who provided proof for the incarceration and life sentence of Lucius in the Ministry's prison, finding himself truly upset by his deceit. He had established new contacts and all suspicion had been cleared for the good history of his family in France, and it led to his investment in the English Magical community. Hugues had become a revered figure, a liaison to the French Ministry, and a considerable economical power.

Beyond the glamour and personality, the Mathieu family was allied with the Dark Order and had asked for the protection of Filldeserp, accepting his conditions, with both sides accomplishing a successful exchange.

As they talked, they had moved to the end of the line to wait for the next available goblin. When Filldeserp finished his story, there was still one person left.

"Aren't there too many people here? It's usually not this… hectic," Hermione whispered.

"December is always a conflicting month to do transactions. Holidays lead to movements from many people, but more do campaigns of security and protection. Goblins have started to offer a service of installation of their shields to magical homes at a cost… and given the increase in attacks, many people have decided to purchase it…"

"Are they effective?" Filldeserp smirked.

"A deal with the goblins is a deal with the goblins."

"You…" Hermione muttered with disbelief.

Harry walked to the goblin as the last person left, and ignored the worried expression on her fiancée.

"I request a meeting with your gobelinus."

"He is not available at this time, sir."

"I was not expecting to see him today. Could I request an appointment for a different date?"

"It depends on the complexity of your subject to discuss."

The goblin made his annoyance obvious in his expression. Filldeserp admired that those beings, despite their greed and rudeness, possessed a life expectancy as good as other creatures. The power of money.

"I am a representative of the Mathieu family… and their acquaintances. Gobelinus asked me to come before the new year for a pending affair…"

Filldeserp pulled out of his pocket a gold coin the size of his palm, which had runes that Hermione had never seen before, and the goblin opened his eyes widely. The creature cleared its throat and straightened itself on its seat, suddenly nicer and interested in the human by the counter.

"Of course, sir. I apologize for my questioning. You understand it is part of the protocol. Tell me the day and time when you would like to meet my Gobelinus." Filldeserp smiled, amused.

"Perhaps… the twenty-fifth?"

---

Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

December 24th, 2004

Time: 11:15AM

Christmas' Eve was coming, although the atmosphere was not very festive inside Headquarters. Physically, the wreaths and the Christmas tree, with its big red spheres and its shining stars, gave life and color; but the somber and anxious expressions were a deep contrast to such illusion of happiness.

The Contact had warned them of an attack that would take place exactly twenty-four hours later in the busiest shopping center in the magical community. But beyond creating strategies for hypothetical movements, there was nothing they could do to stop it. Impotence was a very peculiar and human feeling, and it was leading them to desperation, also a very human characteristic.

One of the aurors had suggested a complete evacuation of the area, but Dumbledore had made them realize that they could not expose their Contact like that, as they should not forget that the upcoming attack was merely a distraction for a greater purpose. The defense of the location had to be as spontaneous as possible, despite the victims.

That irritated Neville even more. Even having the information and resources, they were still at Filldeserp's mercy. The victims, who could be avoided, would become a number in function to the Greater Good… to protect a source of information that, anyway, had no real devotion to the cause of the Order. Everything could be a plan set by Filldeserp to force them into decisions that did not differentiate them from the methods used by the Dark Order.

A hand leaned on his shoulder and when he turned he saw Ginny's understanding chocolate eyes, providing him with a moment of calm. It was incredible, but every day he felt his love for her grow, and with it, his fear of losing her. However, she was strong, stronger than even him, and refused to abandon him, even when he had confessed his fears. He sighed from exhaustion. The war was weakening him. He only wanted it to be over, to stop seeing so much suffering, so much apathy.

"Everything will be okay, Nev. You'll see."

"Every time we say that, we lose someone else, either by death or treason. I've started to consider it a cursed phrase, as if it was the call for loneliness…"

"You should be a poet, Neville," Luna whispered, suddenly appearing behind them.

"Stop saying nonsense, Luna," Ron said, raising his eyes from the parchment lying on the table.

"Don't be so rude, Ron," Ginny reprimanded him. "Luna was only trying to lighten the atmosphere."

"Lighten the atmosphere?! There's no point in ignoring reality, Ginevra! Neville is right… we've lost Hermione… and before her, him. It seems as if our cause has been destined for defeat from the beginning. What else is there left?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, Ron, but we're still here. Do we not count? Are we not worthy of your hope?"

"Look around you, Ginny… our family is falling apart… It's been almost a decade since the beginning of the war, and every year we lose more and more people. What for? What we'll we have, even if we win? Saint Mungo's, the Ministry, Gringotts… almost everything has been infiltrated. Not even Hogwarts is safe anymore…"

Suddenly, Ginny's face took a purple tone and she raised her hand, ready to slap Ron. But she took a deep breath and held back, her eyes glowing with anger and indignation. Her aspect at that moment was a good reflection of her mother's.

"And what are you planning to do about it, Ronald! If you're so afraid of reality, then just leave everything! Run and hide in your shell. Lock yourself in the past, if you so miss it! Leave us alone as we do want to fight for the future. We do want something better. Complains, complains! Have you tried to do something else?"

"It's easy for you to say it, Ginevra! You have not been betrayed by your two best friends, you…"

"Is that your excuse? Hermione and Harry were also my friends! Will you throw the towel just because they did it? Will you also betray us? Leave, then, you jerk!"

"Do not dare compare me to them, Ginny!"

"At least Harry is fighting for something! You're here, lying back, constantly living in the yesterday… constantly clouded by your anger toward Harry. In the end, he has defeated you." Ron went pale and, instinctively, his hand went to look for his wand, considering his dignity wounded. "Do not dare, Ronald Bilius Weasley. For your family's honor, at least, do not dare." Ginny had also gone for her wand.

"Don't do this," Luna whispered, as if she wanted to shut down the yelling between the siblings with her soft voice. "Don't you see this is what the death eaters want? Perhaps we are not many, perhaps we are not strong… but united, we're something. Separated… we're as nargles in our own mistletoe…"

Both lowered their wands. A few tears went down Ginny's face while Ron looked at Luna, as if he was seeing her under a different light. A tense silence took over the room.

Minutes went by and the first to react, surprisingly, was Ron, who hugged Ginny against his chest fiercely, and with a look he invited the other two to join. There, hugging each other, they silenced their fears, contemplating their own human miseries.

"Next time, Ginny… hit me, ok?"

"There better not be a next time, Ronald."

---

Diagon Alley

December 25th, 2004

Time: 1:15PM

The goblins guided him to the main offices, a place where only the richest and purest families could access; but even so, a previous appointment was necessary. The goblins dejection toward humans was evident in every second spent next to them, a constant and almost untouchable mist, which filled the atmosphere, making it heavier and more cautious. But it was not exclusive of them, as humans reciprocated the feeling, contributing to it.

Historically, humans and goblins had avoided contact in an act of preservation of the species, until the creation of the British Ministry of Magic, which had established the regulation of magical creatures, even over those which were more advanced magically.

Thus, in a treaty to avoid inevitable enslavement, goblins had decreed the creation of Gringotts. Nevertheless, the Ministry of Magic continued pressuring them and it was then when a goblin rebellion began, which only led to thousands of deaths and no real results.

The goblin guide leaned in front of a majestic door and with its index finger traced the rune on the door, whispering ancient words in its language, causing, after a brief noise, the deactivation of the protection; then, the door gave in.

The room was wide and decorated in blue tones. The walls showed portraits with the most relevant figures in the history of Gringotts. The first time Filldeserp had entered the room, he had felt back in his second year at Hogwarts, entering the office of his eccentric headmaster, and being amazed by his wonderful artifacts and decorations. Now, years later and after experiencing politics and business, the place no longer had an intimidating effect.

He entered slowly, making sure to fulfil protocol and not appear humanly arrogant at the same time. The Gobelinus stood up and answered with his own formal greeting, indicating Filldeserp to take seat in front of the desk.

"Gobelinus, it is a pleasure reflected in gold to meet with you again."

"Not only in gold, but also in peace," replied the leader of the English sector of Gringotts.

Filldeserp smirked and took the cup of tea that the goblin assistant offered him, whispering new words of prosperity.

The Gobelinus opened the drawer in his desk and pulled out a parchment, which he then offered to Filldeserp.

"The new additions to our program."

Filldeserp nodded and started looking at the files, smiling in triumph as he noticed information on members of the Order he had been searching for a while. It was clear that fear was shaking them, going so far as not trusting Dumbledore's sacred protection.

"Many customers are switching to our credit card plan and have opened accounts with international access."

…As if escaping England would free them from the threat or would make it disappear. Instead of requesting greater action from the Ministry, the population was considering the possibility of leaving such circumstances. Even Hogwarts was receiving fewer students every year. The danger of an attack to the school put at risk the education of the children, put to the side in view of something superior. How would they defend themselves when they were of age, when they could not hide anymore behind their parents?

The war brought out the worst and best of every human being. There were those who had nothing more to offer and they were still fighting till their last breath; and those with the power to fight, but ran or turned their eyes away from reality. Sad, but their courage, loyalty, intelligence, or natural ability to run away, were all real. All previous morals were put to the test. A battle between saying and doing.

The goblin showed him one of his most unpleasant smiles.

"What do you have to offer me this time, human?"

Filldeserp turned his hands on his lap so his palms were exposed.

"We are planning… on taking a decisive step soon. We would like to know what stance the goblins will take." The Gobelinus raised his eyebrows, leaning back on his armchair.

"Why would we change? Nothing that happens between you is of any real concern of ours."

"Do not try to play with me, goblin," Filldeserp answered with brutal honesty and insolence. The Gobelinus remained frozen on his chair for a few seconds. "The war economy exonerates your situation. Whatever the result is, do not forget that you not only hold accounts from the side of the light. Tell me, how are ministry vaults doing? Given that economy is an important affair that moves the world, what happens with us is of your concern. Otherwise, you would have never agreed to this office."

"Do not try to threaten me, human. We are more powerful and independent than you think. We agreed to certain treaties only for our legitimate benefit."

"And that is what I am here to offer, Gobelinus. You administrate a great amount that could collapse not only the Ministry, but the life of the magical community as we know it. There is nothing like money to move the world, is there? Every society relies, more than anything, on a financial well-being. Everything else is excusable." Filldeserp made a dramatic pause, not taking his eyes away from the goblin. "You could destroy the economy, but you would destroy yourselves in the act; which is why the fight for equal rights would be in vain. Day after day, our rebellion grows stronger… and we are shaping new politics, in every way. We are willing to welcome goblins into it, and to provide you everything that has been denied to you for centuries. Magic will unite us, and that is what matters."

"Willing to welcome us?" The Gobelinus let out a loud chuckle. "You need us, human! You should beg for our support."

"No one is indispensable, Gobelinus. We can perfectly withdraw all our accounts from Gringotts before our final step… and with such economic power we can establish a new institution, regulated by our own ministry, for the finances of our new community. No one is essential… however, we wish to save ourselves all the hassle it would take, and we respect the goblin species for its greed and economical skills. We would rather not spill blood uselessly when you could just join us… and obtain benefits from it."

The Gobelinus remained expressionless, despite the threat. His small dark eyes observed Filldeserp for long minutes, not blinking onec. Nevertheless, the dark wizard did not show himself bothered by it, and instead showed all his confidence.

The creature showed him a twisted smirk and began playing with a galleon with its fingers.

"I am not willing to give in without having some guarantees, Lord Filldeserp," the Gobelinus decreed. "Until now, everything has been verbal. We are used to wizard promises and to their subsequent violation. What can assure us that you, who betrayed your own species, will have any remorse in betraying us, creatures never valued?"

"I am aware of the risks I am exposing, Gobelinus. I would be willing to sign an alliance under my signature and blood; the honor of my lineage, even. I am a person of integrity, despite your doubts. I value each one of my allies and I fight side by side with them, ensuring they receive what they have given me, even more. I respect goblins, as magic has chosen them as carriers, and under such circumstances I ensure their rights."

The Gobelinus stood up, for the first time expressing some anxiety. He wandered around the room, frowning. His next speech was whispered with a sore throat, his back at Filldeserp.

"Magic is something so volatile that it does not work as a guarantee. What I request, beyond blood, are actions, human."

Filldeserp smiled, taking his first sip of tea.

"And you will have them, my Gobelinus."

---

Time: 4:25PM

Filldeserp stopped outside of Gringotts to watch the aggressive fight taking place in the Alley. The magnitude of the attack was, undoubtedly, colossal, but that had also been the Order's response. Death eaters and aurors were facing each other in outstanding numbers, and the dark creatures were testing their abilities against those recognized by the side of the light. It was an impressive show of magic for such a simple mission…

Perhaps the most interesting fact was how strongly the Order was fighting back. The faces of the aurors showed focus and a will that Filldeserp had not seen for some time, not even in himself. It was possible that it was the desire for revenge because of all the minor attacks that had taken place during the last few months, and which they could not stop. Impotence could be both their worst enemy and their best ally.

With elegance, he walked down the steps and took his place in the battlefield. Merciless, his wand moved and bodies fell as he walked. When they saw their leader, the death eaters seemed reanimated and followed his example, advancing over the aurors. Again, after only a few months from the previous attack, rivers of blood drowned the shopping area.

"My lord, welcome," Cailean said, standing behind Filldeserp. "Our friends have offered a better welcome than we expected, do you know the reason?"

"I know it as well as you, Cailean. What information do you have to offer me about the attack?"

"We've had some losses… but the plan is still in progress, although with unexpected changes. It is rumored, however, that even Albus Dumbledore is here."

"Our dear Albus?" Filldeserp whispered with incredulity. "Has he ran out of lemon drops to keep him entertained?"

"It seems he cannot allow you to advance any further, my lord."

"Nice time to remember he has a magical world to protect," he hissed, but his speech was interrupted.

He moaned, stopping his stroll for a moment. His cheek had surprisingly started to burn with such force that it paralyzed him for a moment. He shivered, feeling as if a magical current was running rapidly through his body, without any awareness of the act.

"My lord, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he muttered, hating the interruption.

"My lord… your cheek…" Cailean was watching him with worry. "Is that perhaps the mark of…?"

"Shut up, Austen!"

The dark magic, focused on that place, had caused the awakening of his pact with Death. His cheek, the exact place where Death had touched him, most likely appeared as dead flesh to the eyes of those who stopped to look at him for long enough to make the magic show. It could mean something negative or positive, so long as the help Death was providing recognized his allies and did not just destroy everyone…

"My lord."

That scream was Filldeserp's only warning before he was pushed to the ground by a death eater. Despite his daze, he was able to move his body quickly enough to stand up again. An Avada Kedavra had been thrown at the exact point where he had been before.

There was something wrong with his senses.

"What's wrong Filldeserp? Are you not so omniscient anymore?" The auror in front of him spat.

Harry held his wand tightly, barely able to control his anger. Manipulating that hatred, he sent a curse in direction of the auror that was easily avoided, causing his opponent to laugh out loud, increasing his anger. He needed to take a deep breath, calm down and focus. Losing control, at that precise moment, could be fatal.

He threw a sequence of dark spells and charms as he skillfully moved. When he covered himself from a curse with a protego, he was able to get close enough to the auror to see his features better. The distinctive red hair, those freckles and blue eyes, confirmed a feeling he had.

It was Ronald Weasley.

Fate, it seemed, had handled the threads to have their paths meet once more. Seeing him there, standing in front of him, wearing his ministry robes, and with his arrogant look, increased his hatred, which he channeled in his element. That man had betrayed them…

The image of Hermione's face covered in tears… her father's corpse…

The flame was thrown from his hand in Weasley's direction, without it being called. The red-hair was barely able to avoid it, and he responded with curses, which were vanished by his shield.

"What's wrong, Potter? Have you lost your guts?"

Filldeserp waved his wand again, this time conjuring a kind of dagger that went straight to Ron's shoulder, but he, despite his reflexes, was not able to avoid the stab. As it was a purely magical dagger, it disappeared after inflicting the wound, leaving a bloody mark behind.

"Look, Ron… weren't you jealous of my scar? We are even now, aren't we?" The auror's ears turned red from the comment.

"Avada Kedavra!"

However, Filldeserp had disappeared from his previous position and had apparated behind the auror, pointing his wand at Ronald's neck, paralyzing him.

"You play dirty, Weasley. Wasn't that an Unforgivable Curse? Or are aurors exempt from being called murderers? What would your whore of a mother say?"

Rushed by impulse, Ron freed himself from the wand and as he turned, he extended his fist, hitting Filldeserp on his healthy cheek. Such muggle maneuvers sickened Filldeserp and for a moment, both of them remained standing, not reacting, and observing each other, full of hatred.

"I don't know what you've done to Hermione, bastard, but I assure you, you will pay for it," Ron whispered with an icy tone. "I will not let you keep destroying everything I care for…" Filldeserp's eyes seemed to darken as he listened to his words.

"Destroying?" He let out a manic laugh. "If my intention was truly to destroy, Weasley, you would not recognize this place nor your family amongst the amount of bodies spread all over."

"Oh, I'm sure you're fighting for life, justice, and peace, aren't you, Filldeserp? Do you think me an idiot? Everything you guys do leads to death, suffering… darkness. From your birth you are damned! Who else are you willing to risk with your vile tricks?"

"Vile?" Filldeserp gave him a bitter smile. "Your concept of good and evil is unbelievable, Weasley."

He pulled out a dagger and channeled his element through it, causing its sharp side to dangerously glow because of the heat. In a blink, he stood behind the auror once more and attempted to stab him, but a magical barrier made him take a step back and fail in his attack. Knowing it was impossible for Ron to call for such a powerful shield, he scanned his surroundings for the source, and found the imposing figure of his old mentor, with his white beard and dangerous aura nearby.

"You've done enough, Ron. Your wound needs treatment, fall back," Albus Dumbledore said as he walked to the combat area. His blue eyes were set on Filldeserp, watching his every move.

"Albus Dumbledore. You have finally honored us with your royal presence," Filldeserp greeted him, mockingly bowing at him.

"Harry… I see you are still the confused and stubborn boy from our last confrontation," Albus replied, though his voice was more sad and full of sorrow than the last time. Filldeserp held his wand so tightly that for a moment he thought it might break. "And, if my eyes are not failing me, you have also fallen under the same traps as Tom… I never believed that you, Harry, would forget that there are worse things than death. What is the price you paid for immortality? What did Death ask of you?"

"Do not speak of things you do not understand, Albus," Filldeserp muttered, his eyes turning red because of the internal commotion of his element. "Your eyes have been blind to reality for a long time. The magical world does not need you, or your great speeches. What it needs is… the return of pure magic."

"Pure magic?" Ron asked with indignation, returning from amongst the crowd. "Magic is not determined by blood, Filldeserp… there is no such thing as pure or impure magic! Magic just is!"

"Ron… fall back," Dumbledore requested again. "This is not your duel anymore."

"That bastard kidnapped Hermione and took over her mind! How can this not be my duel anymore, when Hermione is my best friend?"

"You should have thought of that seven years ago, when you chose yourself over her," Filldeserp said, practically spitting the words. "Continue lying to yourself, Weasley. The moment will come when you will not be able to escape the truth, and what will you do? You will not have those beautiful ideals of justice and loyalty to hold on to… then you will fall in a world that is not black or white."

"What are you talking about?"

"Leave, Ronald," Dumbledore ordered.

Filldeserp could not hold back the smirk that appeared on his mouth. That situation was completely unconceivable, and yet, there he was, trying to force the truth that was so stubbornly denied and ignored by the Order. Dumbledore was defending his ideals and he was his, a dead end being the only result of their debate.

Those blue eyes were challenging him to continue disturbing the past. His own element was feeding of his hatred and pain to unhealthy levels, while images of treason and abandonment clouded his vision. How was it possible that he had lost control of his own mind?

The answer was on his cheek. In the irony of the help of an ally turned against him.

Death had send Dementors to Diagon Alley.

The Order of the Phoenix was conjuring patronuses, but death eaters took advantage of that moment of weakness and attacked without mercy their opponents, being immune to the effects of those soulless creatures. Filldeserp concluded then that he was the only affected. How had his immunity disappeared, naturally given when he sealed an alliance with those creatures years before?

Dumbledore was watching him with surprise, having noticed Filldeserp's sensibility. Among the silver and black sparks, he could see the eyes of his old mentor filling with tears.

"You still love. You still… fear," Albus whispered, taking a few steps toward Filldeserp.

"Being a member of the Dark Order does not mean a sudden inability to love, Dumbledore," he muttered with disdain while he measured the situation with caution.

"No, Harry, that is not the reason… do you not understand? You still have the power Voldemort knows not… even after all these years, when you have destroyed your soul death after death… you are still able to love."

"You still believe that cheap prophecy? How naïve are you, Dumbledore! Do you think I would want to eliminate my Lord?"

"Harry… why don't you try casting your patronus?"

"I am not your student anymore, Dumbledore, nor the subject of your experiments," Filldeserp hissed with disdain, while in his ears he could hear the screams of Lily Potter.

"You could see your own humanity if you wanted to, Harry," the Headmaster said with that kind tone that sickened him so much. "Power has not consumed you yet. Why don't you fight against it?"

"Have you not thought that perhaps I don't want to?" He answered sarcastically.

"If you still love, Harry, that means that, somewhere within you, there is light and a desire to fight…"

"Stop your fantasies." He threw a flame toward the old man, who hastily raised a wall of water that evaporated soon after.

Filldeserp, however, did not wait to see the effectiveness of his attack and, after shortening the distance between he and his rival to only a few feet, he threw the dagger toward Dumbledore. The blade grazed the shoulder of the headmaster as its path had been diverted.

"I cannot allow my heir to have weaknesses, much less emotional ones…"

Feeling frustrated, Filldeserp continued moving, trying to find a weak point in Dumbledore that he could take advantage of and end the duel quickly, sensing something wrong with his magic. He waved his wand, causing a sort of earthquake on the area of ground beneath Dumbledore. He disapparated to a few feet back, thinking that he was just trying to unbalance his position, but the movement of the earth was a product of its transfiguration into a half-living stone snake, which immediately attacked the professor. Albus disapparated again, but this time Filldeserp was waiting for him with a cruciatus.

Dumbledore was subdued by the pain only for a moment, freeing himself by casting a charm at Filldeserp that forced him to stop the curse. The snake continued following Dumbledore, destroying everything on its way, but the professor managed to avoid its attack and defend himself also from Filldeserp's attacks.

"How much longer, Dumbledore?" Filldeserp mocked him, casting a spell of black light which, when avoided by the old man, was dissolved on the ground in an acidic liquid.

Nevertheless, Dumbledore was not known for his transfiguration skills for nothing. Creating a magical barrier around him to protect him from Filldeserp's curses for a moment, he waved his wand in waves and, without saying a spell, transfigured the gigantic stone snake into a brown substance that crumbled on the ground.

Both death eaters and aurors stopped their fights to observe what was left of the enormous snake. That particular smell…

"Would you like a piece of chocolate, Harry?"

Filldeserp's blood boiled in his veins. That old man dared to make fun of him in such an obvious way, so childish… making him feel again as if he were an eleven year old, who was stepping for the first time in the imposing Hogwarts, amazed by the magic and possibilities…

"I am sure it will relieve the effect of the dementors, Harry," Dumbledore suggested with a peaceful expression.

Fire burst out of his hands and dispersed the chocolate, melting it and destroying it by the magic. At the same time, the bodies of the fallen during the battle were subjected to an unwanted cremation. His own emerald eyes were a forest of flames as his element had been released and manifested, fed by hatred and frustration.

He took a deep breath trying to find some control, and directed the flames at Dumbledore, attempting to surround him. The wizard easily refused the assault, but did not counterattack.

"The denial of your own humanity is causing this inside of you, Harry… do not let it devour you. Such self-control, such apathy… Harry, to feel is not bad… inhibition will not…"

"Shut up!" The image of Hermione's corpse destroyed at his feet, her blood… her sight lost…

Without a warning, he felt a dagger, his own dagger that had failed to hurt Dumbledore, piercing his left shoulder, making him fall on his knees. When he raised his eyes, he was able to see Ron standing next to him, gasping for air and piercing him with his eyes full of hatred. His element reacted on its own accord, lifting Ronald from the ground, holding him firmly and slowly burning his skin, making him scream in pain and desperation.

"Harry, stop!" Dumbledore yelled, raising his wand with uncertainty.

Filldeserp glared at him as he slowly stood up. His angry expression, added to the blood that stained his robes, and the insane glow in his eyes, made him appear as the personification of wrath and darkness.

"Tell me why I should let this traitor live, Dumbledore… Do not fake innocence. You know the truth. And now…" He extended his right hand, which he had been using until then to hold his open wound, showing him his blood and not saying another word.

"Harry…" Dumbledore's face had lost all color.

"Humanity? The human race is rotten, Dumbledore! Not even your puppets can hold your worldview! How can you ask me to reject this?" He extended his arms, pointing at the destruction his element was causing.

"Even the most damaging weapon, if you pay enough attention to it, holds inside the possibility of good, Harry. The power you have… can take lives… and create them. And, if you don't want to believe me, at least believe in Fawkes."

In that moment, almost as if it had been rehearsed, the phoenix flew over Diagon Alley and pompously landed on Dumbledore's shoulder, looking at Harry with its wise and tired eyes. After a slight nod from the professor, the bird took flight again, this time flying closer to Ron. It extended its wings and a magical waved spread over the young man, creating a barrier that neutralized Harry's element and at the same time, allowed Fawkes to cry over Ron's burnt body lying on the ground.

Knowing by experience that nothing could stop the phoenix's actions, Filldeserp focused his attention on Dumbledore, forcing a twisted smile. He raised his bloody hand to the sky and chanted a series of words on parselmouth, causing a black aura to surround him.

"Harry, give up…" Albus whispered, dejected, while he walked toward Voldemort's heir instead of taking a step back.

"You could save one… but… could you save all your puppets, my dear Albus?" Filldeserp mocked him, using his free hand, despite the pain, to spread the fire toward the group of aurors. "Or will you save yourself alone?"

A fierce wind, product of the dark magic, moved toward Albus, who could only let himself be pushed by it against the wall of one of the establishments. There, he remained paralyzed while little black snakes appeared out of nowhere and slithered his way.

…Hermione's screams, caught by a cruciatus…

…The corpse of a baby, whose green eyes observed invisible spirits, unreachable…

A sudden coughing fit overcame Filldeserp and blood came out of his mouth. He observed the evidence of the damage the magic had caused him without understanding what was happening. It had been years since a ritual of dark magic had not reacted according to plan…

"Harry…" Dumbledore whispered, breathing with difficulty due to the starting asphyxiation. "Stop, it will destroy you…"

"I will die with pleasure knowing that with my life I finished you and your execrable Order, Dumbledore," Filldeserp replied, coughing again, this time more heavily, but still keeping his focus on the curse.

Seconds later, he felt his strength give in and he almost fainted, having lost all control over his own magic, but some strong arms held him, keeping him standing.

"You might be willing to abandon us, Lord Filldeserp, but we are not," said a pompous voice behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could identify Phinehas. The vampire's eyes penetrated his soul. "Your mission goes beyond the deaths of these mortals…"

Extending his own hand, the vampire stopped the ritual, conjuring his own dark magic to nullify it. He sighed, exasperated by Filldeserp's stubbornness. He had lost his limits and priorities.

"Order the withdrawal from your men. Our objective has been reached."

Filldeserp looked at the vampire in the eyes, challenging to continue humiliating him; but Phinehas only gave him an irritating smile. After being attacked by another stab of pain, a mixture of the dark magic and the wound in his arm, he acknowledged the suggestion and raised his want to conjure the Dark Mark. He turned to see Dumbledore for a last time. His blue eyes sent him sadness and suffering, but deep down also kept a hint of hope and faith.

"Remember the patronus, Harry," were his words, before the entire Dark Order disapparated from Diagon Alley.

---

Fortress of the Dark Order

December 25th, 2004

Time: 7:05PM

Hermione had been part of many of the campaigns done by the Order after an attack. She was used to see slightly disfigured or broken bodies, and to the healers running from one wing to another, looking for potions and medicinal herbs. However, she had to acknowledge that the methods and environment were very different in the Dark Order.

First, they were not treating civil wounds, so there was no general confusion or desperation caused by ignorance. Everyone there was a soldier prepared for that kind of suffering. Everyone there was ready to fight for such cause, if perhaps not to die for it. Voldemort monitored every incoming soldier, immutable; but Hermione could see some anxiety in his stance. Just like her, he seemed to have a bad feeling about the outcome of the attack.

They knew, from what Austen communicated, that Filldeserp had reached an agreement with the goblins. Not all the clauses called for, but most of them, which was progress. In its own terms, they had managed to infiltrate the desired areas and, despite the Order's precautions, there had been civil victims, although they were not sure if they had reduced the Order's numbers.

Hermione would have preferred a more peaceful infiltration, even if it meant more time. But, as Voldemort and Filldeserp had highlighted, that was not the rhythm that war needed. She sighed; closing her eyes and imagining Diagon Alley… were Neville and Ron alive? Her heartbeat took speed. Even when she was technically not on their side, she could not stand the knowledge of their deaths… they were still her friends, despite the possibility that they had pushed her out of their minds.

Cailean went up to her and, for a moment, he also observed in silence out of the window of that tower and the grounds shown through its view. He then leaned and smiled at her calmly, as if he had guessed her thoughts.

"Everything will happen as it needs to happen, milady."

"Are you so trusting of the Judges, Cailean?"

"Trust?" The death eater laughed, though his eyes did not show it. "As an Unspeakable, I have seen many of their works in this earthly kingdom, milady. Allow me to tell you that I would never dare to think there is a power that is above theirs. So many mysteries, so many great schemes…"

"What ties you to the dark side, Cailean? You don't seem the kind of man who appreciates combat…"

"Lord Filldeserp's beliefs about what magic holds, milady. If the magical community continues on the same centuries old path, we will soon be an endangered species, by our own hand. Magic is dissatisfied. I love magic, beyond what it offers, for what it is."

Hermione listened to him respectfully, able to visualize the passion in that man. Every Unspeakable was a remarkable human, but Hermione had never had the opportunity to truly get to know one. Cailean was not loyal to anyone or anything except the untouchable and so-powerful thing known as magic. Without a doubt, he was wiser than all those mortals who were fighting… not truly knowing why they were dying."

Cailean's vision was comfortable, of course. He was a pureblood, with a good economic status, a good job inside the Ministry… he had no family for whom to worry to protect. If he fought, he did it for pleasure or to prove something, but not because he was obligated or because of his true loyalties. He was, if possible, the freest man Hermione had ever met. In a certain way, he reminded her of Luna and her unique worldview.

"Do not be afraid, milady. Everything will be all right," Cailean whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder to then wink at her and walk away.

Hermione remained speechless by the window, not understanding the words of the death eater. He had said them in such a compassionate tone that, more than calming Hermione, had given her new fears. Had something bad happen? Where was Filldeserp?

Almost as if everything had been synchronized, the answer to her questions arrived. The vampire she had seen several times next to Filldeserp materialized at the apparition point, practically holding on his shoulder the entire weight of Voldemort's heir, who was frowning because of the pain. The horrified screams and screaming orders did not take long, but all movement went in slow motion for Hermione.

Even before one of the healers could get close, Filldeserp lost consciousness in the arms of the vampire, worsening the worry of everyone present. Phinehas laid him carefully on one of the beds and he was immediately led by Voldemort to a corner, Hermione being the only one who had the courage and possibility to join the conversation.

"What…?" Voldemort asked, although he was quickly interrupted by the vampire.

"In broad terms, the dementors."

"Dementors?" Hermione question with disbelief.

"Yes, surprisingly… Filldeserp was sensible to them," Phinehas explained staring coldly at the Dark Lord, whose red eyes sparked and set on Hermione. "That weakened his self-control and, added to his duel with Dumbledore…"

"Dumbledore!" Voldemort repeated with apprehension. "So it was him who caused that injury…"

"No, actually. It was one of those red-hairs… Weasley, was it?"

"Weasley? Ron?" Hermione whispered, turning pale. Voldemort stared at her, hating the mere fact of naming a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

"If I had not intervened, Filldeserp would have committed suicide by the execution of a dark magic ritual and the use of his element at the same time, a situation that in normal conditions would not have caused great damage, but… given his vulnerability and instability…

"Foolish…" Voldemort muttered, spitting the words with anger. "If it was not because he is bedridden I would…"

"Is that everything you can think of? Punishing him? Disciplining him?" Hermione yelled. "He was about to die for your wonderful Cause and…!"

"Do not play with fire, girl! Your insolence is not appreciated. I know how to handle my heir…"

"He is not an object to fix! Do you even…?"

"Shut up, mudblood. To start, you are the cause of this. If Filldeserp had not fallen in love with a useless and compassionate girl like you, his apathy would have protected him. Feelings are only weaknesses!"

"Harry is a thousand times stronger than you," Hermione whispered with determination, reaching a threatening tone.

"He has not shown it. His skills are impressive in…"

"How dare you!" The Gryffindor yelled. "Filldeserp is always the one who leads the most dangerous missions while you remain here, filing your nails and growing your ego! Filldeserp is the man who these men respect…" He pointed accusingly at the death eaters present, who were watching the argument astonished. "He is the one they trust. Can you not see it? If only you could understand the courage of being there, of fighting shoulder to shoulder with your people… then you could say you were better than Dumbledore! Then you could show that your Cause is more than unjustified terror! But Filldeserp is the one everyone sees…"

"How dare you," Voldemort grunted pulling out his wand and doing a dramatic gesture with his robes. "I curse the day I allowed you to be part of the Slytherin family…"

"And I curse the day you entered our lives," Hermione countered raising her chin. Her wand remained in her robes.

"Crucio!"

Hermione did not try to dodge the curse, but faced it like a Gryffindor. The pain shook her body, but she remained standing, challenging Voldemort with her brown eyes. The death eaters, who until then had pretended not to be listening in, took a step back, as if the cruciatus could not be contained and would reach them.

"Is that everything the great Dark Lord Voldemort can do?" She muttered. The red eyes flashed, probably picturing in his mind the image of Hermione destroyed.

"Are you a masochist, girl?" Hermione gave him a sweet smirk.

"I got it from my husband."

A purple spell crossed the room, hitting the old auror, who was roughly thrown to the floor. She was on her knees for a few seconds, breathing with difficulty until she stood up and smiled at Voldemort, who stood a few feet away with an imperious stance.

"I wish to die in a very original way. Please, grant me my wish."

A transfigured knife was thrown in her direction without any hesitation, but Hermione decided to dodge it. She did not do the same for the dark blue spell, which opened a wound in her left leg. Voldemort walked a few steps, observing her with revulsion.

"You have a very archaic concept of original, Tom…" the young woman whispered. She smiled with arrogance and rolled up the sleeves of her dress. "Now is my turn."

A burst of wind ran through the wing before it surrounded Voldemort and lifted him in the air, ripping his clothes apart. However, the Dark Lord fought against the force of the wind and waved his wand, sending a dangerous curse, which was rejected by Hermione's elemental shield.

They continued like that for several minutes. Hermione wielding her element while Voldemort used his dark spells. They had changed positions several times and had forgotten their audience. Everything had been reduced to pride. The deadliness of the attacks from both sides had increased, to the excitement of several death eaters who could not wait to see the murder of the mudblood who had infiltrated the Inner Circle of the heir…

"It has been a while since you last dueled, hasn't it, uncle Voldie?" Hermione mocked him. Several death eaters wanted to respond instead of their Lord, but he stopped them with a sign of his hand.

"You think yourself very brave, mudblood?" His bitter expression disfigured the Dark Lord's pale face even more.

"I do not fear death, if that's what you're interested in. Of course, that can't be said about you, right?" She replied giving him a kind smile.

It had been a long time since she last felt so alive, so needed for something. She did not know the reason for her actions, but she knew they were right. Filldeserp would never defend himself against the one he considered like a father, despite all the torture and manipulation. Hermione would not tolerate it anymore.

She had the power to make a difference.

Nevertheless, Voldemort cast a chain of unknown spells, which Hermione dodged. When she turned to respond with her own element, she saw a red beam approaching, which she knew would penetrate her heart, stopping her movement.

But she discovered that it was not the time for her death. A body had stood between the spell and her, saving her life, but suffering as consequence a deep wound in his stomach. With horror, she recognized that black hair and green eyes, so drowned…

"How… dare… you…?" He barely muttered, coughing blood. "Do you… wish… to kill… him?"

For a moment, Hermione was about to speak, outraged that he continued to defend Voldemort. But then she saw how, with his hand covered with blood, he touched her womb, staining her dress with the red substance. Her brown eyes clouded when she noticed the blood stain grew in his robes, and she fell to her knees, dragging Filldeserp to the floor as she was his support. The sound of their bodies falling echoed in the tense silence that had fallen in the room. She would remember that sound the upcoming sleepless nights, an endless echo of sacrifice and death.

She began to cry with desperation, wishing to change everything that had occurred that day… longing for the sense she had lost.

"Forgive me…"

---

Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

January 28th, 2005

Time: 11:30AM

When Ginevra told Ronald she wished there was not a next time when she had to hit him to get his brain cells to work, she had not said it expecting his brother to return to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix almost dead the following day. Nevertheless, the phoenix tears, added to an efficient treatment administrated by Ginevra herself, had saved Ron's life, and also his body. The only mark that would remain, witness of the fierce duel, would be the scar on his shoulder which, for some reason they could not understand, had insisted on remaining on his skin.

Neville had gone pale when he heard of the duel against Filldeserp from both Ron and Dumbledore. He had felt ashamed he had not been close enough to help, but, as Albus remarked, he had been saving lives in a different area, and that was not to be put down.

He still could not believe that Filldeserp had Dumbledore and most of the Order at the tip of his sword; and that they had only been saved by the heir's own desperation. Nobody had ever described Filldeserp as weak. In fact, he was always immutable, with a plan up his sleeve, and never risking more than necessary. That mistake, perhaps, meant a victory for the Order as it showed that Filldeserp was only human, and as such, beatable.

However, it also increased the four friend's uneasiness. Dumbledore had called them several days after the attack and had confessed his insights on the event.

"Filldeserp recovering his sensibility after Hermione's capture might not be a coincidence. It is possible that Hermione has rescued Harry from himself…"

"What are you talking about, Albus?" Neville asked with a frown. Albus sighed, tired. The duel had also exhausted him.

"I have the suspicion that Filldeserp loves Hermione, as… impossible as that might sound. Our Contact informed us that he saved her from Voldemort, even when he was almost passing out."

"It could all be a trap to get us overconfident…" Ron said. Albus, however, shook his head.

"You were there, Ronald. Do you think Filldeserp would agree to show weakness, even if it helped a greater scheme? It's all guesswork, but… I cannot help but hope. I am not saying Filldeserp turned good overnight, or that he is against Voldemort… but without a doubt, he is not his replica."

"He is still a murderer," Ron objected. "He has explored forbidden magic… He did not come out untouched."

"Of course not, Ron," Ginny answered with caution. "However, wouldn't you like to believe Hermione didn't abandon us, but she just chose to try to redeem Harry? He might be our enemy, but it's different…"

The conversation had disturbed them. The possibilities that opened because of that vision led to imagine scenarios and be filled with hope. Many times, Ginny would have preferred not knowing as she would hate to learn that actually, Hermione had simply decided to switch sides out of convenience; or that Filldeserp had only had a bad day and the next time the Order faced him, they would all end up charred like Snape.

Neville smiled at her from the kitchen's doorframe. Ginny looked at him surprised, knowing that at that time the auror should have been working at the Ministry. The mischievous glow in his eyes, however, proved his escape. She returned his smile as he walked toward her.

"The head of department has snuck out from his duties… to visit this wench?" The red-hair whispered. Neville took one of the hair locks falling on her face and played with it.

"What good is it to be the boss if I can't set my own times?"

"Such an irresponsible young man… you deserve some punishment."

She leaned and kissed him on the lips with passion, which he responded by hugging her and holding her closer. Love made any notion of time and space disappear, especially all the problems and war wounds. Laughing between kisses, Ginny suddenly found herself against the table, in an uncomfortable position she did not complain about. He loved the blush on Neville's face, how his eyes never left hers, the intimacy of his touch…

"There's an empty room right up the stairs, to the right, on the first floor," said the melodious voice of Luna Lovegood. "Or you can continue, but let me know so I can close the door."

The couple put some distance, unnecessarily fixing their clothes out of embarrassment. They had forgotten they were in the kitchen of the Order while on their outburst of affection.

"If you are interested, Tonks and Remus' daughter was just born, only twenty-nine weeks old, so premature. But she is stable and healthy," Luna smiled vaguely, as if the news she had given were not joyful. "They have decided to admit her, just in case."

"Have they named her?" Neville asked with anxiety. Ginny laughed, knowing he was trying to forget the previous incident.

"Hannah, Hannah Lupin."

---

Fortress of the Dark Order

February 1st, 2005

Time: 6:15PM

January had been a delicate month. The life in the Fortress had become inconsistent since the attack to Diagon Alley given the conflict of interests between Hermione and Voldemort. Both had agreed to cease hostility for Filldeserp's sanity, but every time the old auror and the Dark Lord crossed paths, the temperature of the room decreased considerably.

In the meantime, Filldeserp's recovery had been a slow process. Beyond the physical wounds, which had disappeared by the next day, not leaving a scar, the most serious condition had been the effect on the heir's magic. It had become unstable, reacting at the most unexpected times and with a violence given by the mixture of emotions. Even after a session of advanced Occlumency, Filldeserp continued to need rest in the magical aspect.

According to Phinehas, who was the only one who had been able to analyze the situation, the magic had been dismayed in front of the dementors, Filldserp's emotional chaos, and the impotence of his element. Added to that was his physical condition – the wounds suffered in the attack and the lack of sleep before the attack – for which Phinehas had admitted some responsibility.

Voldemort had not been satisfied, but Hermione had felt extremely guilty. She had tried to talk to Harry about it, but the young man refused to discuss with her the duel between his father and his wife, who had not stopped apologizing at every occasion she could.

Hermione was still moved by his words and the intention behind standing in between her and the curse. She was sure that, if she had not been pregnant, Harry would have still protected her with his own life, but the fact that he adored his child, his family… she would probably never forget the way his eyes had penetrated her at that moment. Beyond the utility of their child, he had done it out of love. It was not a surprise that all the death eaters and Voldemort had been paralyzed by such statement.

That act of self-sacrifice had been more powerful than the strongest shield.

She could imagine Dumbledore's expression if he had witnessed it.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Filldeserp asked her, turning his attention away from the book he had been reading to look at his wife. "You have been staring at me for several minutes."

Hermione bit her lower lip, leaning on her comfortable chair. She was in one of the meeting rooms, waiting for the time when they had agreed to meet with their elemental allies. Unsure about revealing her true thoughts, she gave him a weak smile.

"Nothing special… I was just fantasizing." Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"You seemed bothered by something."

"It's just…" She sighed knowing she could not lie. "I was thinking about Dumbledore."

"What about him?" He questioned coldly. Lately, whenever the old professor was mentioned, it irritated Filldeserp, who continued to refuse sharing what had happened in his duel.

"Just… I was wondering what he would say if he had seen…"

Filldeserp closed the book abruptly, stopping her answer. His eyes burned with accumulated hatred.

"He would have said that is the power. That the dark side is not where I truly belong," he muttered, hissing the words with disgust. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but she desisted after noticing his expression. "Voldemort is right. This should not have happened."

"Don't start with that too!" Hermione yelled, furious. "Loving is not wrong! The circumstances were not in your favor. That was all."

"Dumbledore could have killed me if he had wanted to, Hermione," Filldeserp answered standing up. "And that is not the worst…" He looked at the palm of his hand with anger. "I could have destroyed everything. I could have even killed my allies. It was a terribly simple mission."

"Harry…"

"Don't you understand, Hermione?" He asked her angrily. "I could have killed you if you had been there. I am a danger to our Cause… I am an enemy for our own future…"

Hermione could not take it anymore. She slapped him hard.

"You are the one who doesn't understand, Harry. I don't care how unstable your element is; I don't care how dangerous you can be… that's not who you are. Even in a critical state, you appeared in front of me and protected me. That is who you really are, Harry. Human. You make mistakes, terrible mistakes, but that's not what matters! It is our choices and decisions what define us, more than our abilities. Remember? What makes this significant is that you could have chosen to destroy everything, and yet, you are here, feeling remorse. That is what Voldemort doesn't understand. Every one of us decides what kind of person we want to be."

Hermione leaned closer to him and touched with affection the cheek she had just slapped. She closed her eyes and leaned on his shoulder, enjoying her husband's fragrance, the man he loved with her entire self.

"Together we can keep going," she whispered in his ear. Harry sighed and surrounded her waist with his arms.

"Promise me you will never fight with Voldemort again."

"No, Harry. If necessary, I would repeat it."

"Hermione…"

"I won't make a promise I won't keep, Harry." She separated from him to look him in the eyes and show her sincerity. "That man has manipulated you enough. I know that you aren't even completely together in the Cause, so there's no reason for you to lie to me…"

"How…?" Filldeserp asked, shocked by her knowledge.

"Doesn't matter how. When were you going to tell me you had your own followers, Harry? When were you going to tell me you were moving away from him?"

"It's not like that, Hermione…"

"Do you think I haven't noticed your daily trips, Harry? You are preparing something. The vampire has something to do with it, doesn't he?" The expression on his pale face changed, taking a more serious tone.

"It's dangerous, Hermione. You shouldn't know…"

"The deal you made with Death…" Hermione could not hold back and touched the place where she guessed the latent mark would be. Cailean had told her about it. "It didn't turn out how you expected it. What did you ask so she would retaliate in such way?" Filldeserp closed his eyes, shaking his head. "What are you planning with the Lukyan? The girl… what…?"

"Please, Hermione," Filldeserp insisted, making her silent. "I hope you haven't discussed this with any of the death eaters. If the Order were to…"

"What does the Order have to do with this?" Filldeserp sighed exasperated.

"Everything, Hermione! The origin of the girl… is from rebellion…"

"She's not Dymtrus'?" Hermione asked, disturbed by the revelation. "Then… is she the daughter of someone in the Order?"

She paled to the possibility. Filldeserp had kidnapped a girl and had placed her in an allied family for his own needs… he had been capable of destroying a family, when he had protected his child from the fury of his Lord…

"Not exactly our Order, but a Revolutionary Order… foreign. The Illegitimi non carborundum…"

Spain.

"How is your family, little Lucas? … The anniversary of your dear wife Sara will be soon, will it not? And also of your little girl… Cecilia, I believe?"

"De Santos…" Filldeserp nodded letting out a heavy sigh.

"The mission was to murder his family, as a reward for his constant opposition to our efforts to infiltrate his country. We first killed his wife in an attack against the Spanish ministry… three months later we kidnapped his daughter right under his nose."

Filldeserp showed a sad smile, as if that moment had been a triumph he now regretted. His eyes were lost in memories, as his face showed the longing. He was not looking at Hermione anymore.

"A few days after we had her under our control, one of the death eaters decided to torture the girl… but her magic reacted accidentally. Five years old… and it was her first elemental outburst." He let out an empty laugh, enunciating everything with pride and bitterness. "I am sure you know, with everything you have read about the tradition… if your element is externalized before you turn fifteen, you have to find an adult elemental to be your tutor until you dominate the magic. In certain occasions, the element chooses on its own, in its great wisdom… Thus, automatically, since I was in the room during the small outburst, her magic recognized me as her tutor. I could not kill her, and I wouldn't have even if she wasn't under my charge. We, elementals, need to take care of each other, not exterminate us. I needed to place her with a loyal family, as in no way De Santos was a possibility and I was not willing to take care of her directly…"

Filldeserp smiled with sadness. He looked at his hands with impotence, challenging the pressure that had forced him to make that decision. Hermione doubted he regretted it, but he probably wished he did not have to manipulate a young life in such a way. He probably felt like a reflection of Dumbledore, controlling the fate of a creature who, in her ingenuity, hoped the best from him.

"We erased her memories and substituted them with the right stimuli. For De Santos… I preferred he didn't have any hope and we gave him a body, copying data from her DNA… you know the method of deceit."

Hermione let herself fall on the chair, imagining the pain of that father. His daughter was alive, and he believed her dead. He had lost everything for a war that was not his, and yet, he persevered in combat; even when his country declared itself neutral, as he had insisted in the beginning. Perhaps he was moved by a feeling of revenge or justice for his family; perhaps he did it in their honor.

But his daughter was alive, being raised by an enemy family, without a memory of her father and admiring her tutor, who was the cause of the fragmentation of her old family structure.

Before she could form an opinion about it, the elementals Filldeserp had called for entered the room, among them being Dymtrus and Sheila. Hermione was able to hold back a sob when she observed the girl in detail for the first time. Those green eyes must be from her mother as they held no resemblance with her father's black ones. However, her lightly tanned skin, her nose, her smile… those were identical to Lucas'. Her curls were of a blond so dark that Hermione could not understand how she had believed they were a legacy from Dymtrus' unmistakable blond. Nothing joined her to the Ukrainians, except her fake memories.

And a life of servitude.

"Milord, Lord Voldemort requests for you to immediately report to him in his study after this meeting," Alice said stoically, sitting down in her usual chair. "It seems something came up in Germany and the Lord must travel with Phinehas."

"Travel to Germany?" Filldeserp said, sitting straight up and frowning. He gave a warning glance to Hermione.

"The Lord spoke of a prophecy, sir. Phinehas is certain it concerns you."

"And why is Voldemort the one going to investigate then?" Hermione asked with distrust, not able to hold back the impulse.

"Because of the possibility of your husband suffering a relapse, milady," Alice replied, her tone touching irony.

The bravery of the woman made Hermione blush, and she was about to tell her what she thought when Filldeserp placed his hand on her shoulder and silenced her. She then understood, by the way in which he later closed the subject, that Alice was loyal to Voldemort, despite appearances.

The Dark Order was a great web of fake expressions and sharp retorts that she was not prepared to know yet. And in that web was growing an innocent child, who perhaps would never know she was predestined to face her father in the battlefield.

"If that is the Lord's decision, we should not question it. Either way, it is not a reason for concern during this meeting…"

---

Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

February 3rd, 2005

Time: 9:50PM

Maps and plans lay forgotten on the table. The door was closed by a charm, which also inhibited the transmission of sound. The only people present in the room remained silent, as if they were meditating. On one side, Javier Martinez was standing by the door, leaning against the wall; Francisco Garcia was crossing his arms and leaning on his chair, with his feet on the table; while Lucas De Santos was looking through some parchments. Their meetings were frequent, especially since they had to make reports for the INC in Spain. Besides, they had to debate certain topics brought by the Order of the Phoenix, to decide a joint plan of action.

Nevertheless, and that detail was unknown by Albus Dumbledore, they also moved independently from the Order. It was mostly political movements, since they did not have the resources to intervene in the battlefield without the Order. For now.

The Contact had communicated with them in previous occasions, informing them of details they not always mentioned in front of the Order. It was most likely due to the fact that some of the members would have deduced their identity easily, and that was a secret the Contact was not willing to spread. However, since the Spanish did not have as much knowledge on the personalities of every member of the Dark Order, nor were they very interested in those details, there was greater trust between them.

That day was one of the designated dates to deal with the Contact. They did not believe they would get relevant information, but they did not reject the small amounts, especially those linked to Filldeserp and his health.

Their method of communication was different to the one the Order handled. Any object that worked directly as a channel of communication could be detected by the Dark Lords in a careless moment. Instead, the Contact had provided them with a pensieve of unusual characteristics. The only memories which could be placed there were those of the Contact, who did not need to be near the object to place their thoughts in it. There had to be a connection, probably a charm, which joined the Contact with the pensieve unconditionally. After an hour since the introduction of the new memory, it evaporated, leaving the pensieve empty and useless, without any magical residue that would allow them to trace the location of the Contact.

"I am anxious," Francisco said, keeping his position.

"Lack of sleep?" Javier asked, frowning.

"No. It's almost as if…" He took a deep breath. "As if I had a feeling."

"Good or bad?"

"Don't be superstitious. I'm sure it's because of the lack of movement the Dark Side is showing… we are to aware," De Santos grunted, not raising his eyes from his reading material. Francisco merely shrugged.

"Without Filldeserp stable, they have lost their great commander."

"I don't think so," De Santos muttered. "His attention is somewhere else… For example, we don't know the real purpose of his visit to Gringotts. It is clear the attack was not the most relevant."

They were silent. The lack of answers and solutions to the war was making them impatient. They had been in England for several months already without any result. In Spain they could not have done much, but they felt as if they were not helping in England either. Everything seemed useless when they could not, at least, stop the loss of innocent lives.

Suddenly, the pensieve placed on one side of the table, vibrated and a substance appeared in it, glowing giving a ghostly glow. The three Spanish walked to the object and, after sharing a silent glance, they entered its contents.

As usual, the memory was foggy. They could not see anything. Even if they walked, nothing changed. Everything was covered by a mist, forcibly caused by the Contact. For a moment everything was silent, until a distorted voice, with a mocking tone, started to echo in the void.

"Good evening, knights of the Cid. Tonight, I am offering you a banquet. I have worked very hard to ensure everything works perfectly, so do not doubt the authenticity of my present."

Javier rolled his eyes. A double agent was never true to anything, except themselves.

"First, the king has left his land in search of an oracle in an austere land in the continent. His prince was left in charge."

"Noblemen gossip around the womb of the princess. She has lost the favor of the king and many await the prince's reaction, while they pressure him to act."

Knowledge of the distance between Lord Voldemort and Hermione Granger was not new. The Contact had mentioned it during one of the meetings of the Order, though they were still waiting for any action from Filldeserp to show his decision. His Lord or his wife?

"She mentioned an oracle?" Francisco muttered with a frown. "What does she mean?"

"I'm more worried about the confirmation that Granger is pregnant…" Lucas said. "It's obvious it was not an accident. But why now, in the middle of a war? Do they fear the end of their lineage?"

"The death eaters are destroying each other, every day more noticeable."

"That was to be expected. What happened after the attack on Diagon Alley worked as a spark… those in favor of Voldemort would not stand that a mudblood challenged him and that his own heir protected her, against his Lord's wishes," Javier said.

"But it's not convenient for the Dark Order to fall apart now…"

"That's why Filldeserp hasn't made his move," De Santos concluded.

"I have a present for one of you, knights. Someone who had longed been considered lost has returned, with her green eyes and blond curls… All this time hidden by the prince, wanted in his army once she reached puberty, as an infant she still is. From his mouth I heard it and he would not lie to me."

"What the hell…?" Francisco muttered, but he was interrupted by the voice, which did not pause in between their speech.

"A map I have done of their kingdom, though their guards I have not yet bypassed. To deliver this with a messenger I should, but a personal audience I would prefer, so you can accept my affirmations. I trust that you, my noble knights, will be able to fool the guards by the next crescent. With the bearded one I shall speak with as well, as his sword will also be needed. Do not waste the chance, since the saintly girl will depart the following full moon."

"Her appellation is that of the blind one, if more you wish to know."

"Why would we enter the Fortress? To save a child we don't even know?" Francisco asked.

"It must be a trap…" Martinez remarked.

"Unless it has a hidden message," Garcia muttered. "Perhaps she is not actually a child. Green eyes, blond hair? Saintly? Blind?"

They were abruptly expelled from the pensieve. Francisco and Javier landed on their feet, but Lucas fell on the floor, where he remained motionless, with his gaze lost. His friends took some time noticing, still absorbed in their discussion, but when they saw him kneeling next to them, they shook him and attempted to revitalize him with spells as he seemed to be in a state of shock.

After several long minutes, when they began considering asking for help from someone in the Order, Lucas reacted, holding onto their arms with unexpected strength. His brown skin had paled significantly, but soon he began to get composure.

"My child, Francisco…" He whispered, almost indiscernible. "My Cecilia…"

Francisco and Javier exchanged worried looks. A tense silence overcame them as, practically hugging each other, they processed his conjecture.

"It can't be, Lucas…" Javier whispered slowly, biting his lower lip. "You saw her, with your own eyes… The INC verified it was her… it's not possible…"

"What if this was an act of necromancy?" Francisco asked, doubtful. The mere possibility made Lucas shiver.

"'All this time hidden by the prince'… what if… they made us believe it was… her?" Lucas whispered, broken.

"It's a trap! You know it's not possible, Lucas. It was her! Cecilia is dead!" Javier yelled, extremely upset about the circumstances. "The damn Contact is playing with you! I'm sure Filldeserp is behind this. He is using your demons, Lucas…"

"Shut up!" The Spanish stood up slowly, always facing his friend. His eyes were shining, but not a tear had fallen. "I know she's dead… do you think I don't? I should have protected her! It should have been me, not her! They took her from me… And Sara… what would Sara say? I let them take our child…" He clenched his fists and lowered his face, shaking. The pain was too much.

"Lucas, I… I'm sorry…"

"But… everything fits. Not only the physical description… but… saintly? And the name Cecilia means blind… how can I not associate it? What if… it's true? What if Cecilia is alive, somehow, and they have her? How could I live with myself, knowing I did nothing to save her?"

"It could be a trap…" Javier weakly insisted.

"Lucas…" Francisco got closer to him, interrupting Javier, and took his friend from the shoulders, looking him in the eyes. "The Contact says they will give us… a personal meeting. There we can mention our doubts… and Dumbledore might have something to add as well. If after that you still continue to believe there is a minimum possibility that it is her… then…" He took a deep breath and smiled, trying to share strength. "Then, and I swear it on my magic, I will go with you to every corner of the Fortress until we get her back, Lucas."

After a moment Javier also got closer and with a weak smile, also put his hand on his friend's shoulder. Silence overcame them again, but this time they had nothing else to say. Fear, desperation, pain, and uncertainty were drowning them.

But they were joined by a small possibility; small and blind hope.