Chapter Two: The First Mission

Throughout history, the few hours of the night approaching dawn had always been the most dangerous. It was the time when soldiers would be deepest in their slumber, their bodies relaxed and sluggish to wake due to the strain of the constant danger from the day before. It was the time when the patrols and guards were at their least vigilant, their fears of the darkness alleviated by the approaching light, their hearts lighter knowing that the shadows would soon receded and bring with it the clarity, the safeness of day.

When an attack occurs during these hours, there is a substantial delay in organising a response. In the intervening time, the attackers would be left free to cause as much damage as they could, and even retreat if they were so inclined to do so, vanish into the fading blackness just as the sun rose over the horizon.

As a countermeasure, commanders soon developed a system of an early morning 'stand-to' where every available soldier rose to their stations, just in case the enemy chose that particular morning to attack. No one shirked their duties at this time, for the attention they paid could very well save their lives, as well as the lives of those around them. Because of this new practise, attacks during the night, or early in the morning, quickly fell out of favour. At the very least, they ceased to be as popular as they used to, because darkness, naturally was as much a hindrance as it was a benefit.

As Harry surveyed the twenty men in front of him, he wondered if Wizards had a similar practise. If so, then there would be a terrific fight, one that made his muscles tighten with anticipation just by thinking about it. On the other hand, if they didn't – well, then, by the time night fell again the next day, Diagon Alley would be nothing but rubble on the ground.

The Death Eaters that had been chosen by his Father were some of the best. Each was a deadly duellist that could hold their own against even some of the most renowned Aurors. They had each proven the steel of their resolve in battle – far from the rookies that were generally interspersed amongst the other raiding parties. They were intelligent – their knowledge of all manner of dark and destructive curses would be almost vital to the success of the mission. More importantly, however, they were professional. Good at following orders, without question.

Well, Harry thought, reconsidering, except for Bellatrix, that is. The woman was insane, certifiably so, but her sheer terrible skill with a wand, her devotion to the cause and her chaotic, dangerous unpredictability made her an obvious choice, regardless of the risks she posed, even to her own side.

New recruits may be shifting nervously by now, conversation rolling through the room as they tried to either distract themselves from their nervousness or express it. These seasoned soldiers, however, talked in nothing but a quiet murmur, unintelligible to any save those closest to them. They waited patiently for an order, their black robes and silver masks as immaculate as though they had just been cleaned which, in fact, they probably were. One did not appear before the Dark Lord looking like a vagabond, and that extended to His son.

That none of the twenty noticed the newcomer yet was perhaps due more to Harry's skill at remaining undetected rather than the inattentiveness of the Death Eaters. Nevertheless, fear was a powerful weapon, one that, thanks to his young age, Harry knew he would have to wield well.

Unnoticed, Harry slipped further into the room. With his hood down, as long as he didn't speak or let anyone see his black mask, the other Death Eaters wouldn't be able to tell that he wasn't one of their peers at all. Naturally, his Father had identified that problem with the masks almost as soon as the spell for their creation was invented, and altered it so that if anyone who didn't bear His mark touched one, it would crumble to pieces. No impersonations would be tolerated.

That also meant, however, that Harry, being unmarked, couldn't wear the Death Eater mask either, not that he would want to. He was better than that.

It was only until he stood at the very centre of the meeting room that he spoke up, the rumbling of his deep, magically altered voice easily carrying to the four corners. As he spoke, a hush fell upon the gathered men, who were no doubt questioning themselves as to how it was possible they had been unaware of his entrance.

"Silence." There was really no need for the command, as silence would have almost certainly fallen, regardless of what he said. "This isn't a cocktail party."

The men needed no further prompting or exchange of meaningless words. Without a sound save for the rustling of robes and the soft tapping of boots on the tiled floor, they arranged themselves in a full circle around their commander. Harry stood motionless as they moved, his green eyes staring straight ahead – not that his eyes could be seen at all with the magic of the mask in place.

Only once the Death Eaters had positioned themselves and became as still as the corpses that they always left in their wake did Harry himself move.

He chose to face Bellatrix Lestrange for several reasons. She was one of, if not the, most senior Death Eaters, and definitely the most devoted to his Father. She was also one of the most powerful, and as an excellent duellist, had the respect, or a healthy amount of fear, from everyone in the room. If Harry had to pick a second in command, he would almost have picked her. Almost because, unlike his Father, he was distinctly wary of the woman's borderline insanity, which could very well prove to be detrimental in the already existing chaos of a battle. That was the first and foremost reason that he chose to impress his words, meant for everyone in the room, on her particularly.

"My Father wants Diagon Alley destroyed. He has decided that you will be the ones to carry out His bidding." Harry said, neither his emotionless tone, nor the stony visage of his mask, giving anything away. "This will not be a raid, but a warning. Following my orders, you will level one of the incompetent Ministry's pathetic symbols of peace. You will not be leaving until the job is done. If the Aurors arrive, some of you will carry on while others will act as your shields."

Harry paused, letting his words sink in. He could almost hear the tension in the room. He felt it in the hairs on the back of his neck, knowing that the attention of the best twenty Death Eaters were currently fixed upon him, and only him. He raised his voice, as though trying to drown out the protests that his next words would bring, despite knowing full well that there wouldn't be any dissent – no one was foolish enough to argue with the son of the Dark Lord.

"There is to be no deviation from your orders. You will follow my orders without question. You were chosen because you were the best of all my Father's followers, and you will prove it by ignoring any and all distractions. There will be no pursuit of inconsequential men, women and children. If they flee from you, leave them be. If they cower in fear, then let them bask in the terror that we bring. If they oppose you, kill them. No torturing, no taunts. Kill them, and move on. Kill as many as possible. Leave no shop untouched, and flatten as many as possible. We will begin on the steps of Gringotts. Any questions?"

There weren't. Harry knew there wouldn't be, because he had been more than clear in his orders, and what little areas of doubt that remained wouldn't be voiced because no one dared to voice them. And if there weren't any questions, then – as he heard the mansion clock strike three in the morning – there was only one thing left to say.

"Go."

Without waiting for a response, Harry twisted on the spot, vanishing silently with a swirl of his robes.

Despite being the son of the most powerful Dark Lord, or perhaps because of it, Harry had never been in Diagon Alley before. Had he been an ordinary Wizard, he wouldn't have been able to Apparate into Diagon Alley at all. However, he wasn't an ordinary Wizard, for the same reason as why he had never visited the busy Magical Shopping Street. That was how he managed to appear on the steps of the monumental marble structure that was Gringotts bank without a hitch.

In seconds, he was surrounded by the chosen twenty, the cracks of their Apparition echoing off the walls of the deserted streets and down the shadowy alleyways. It was in times like this, as opposed as to the duels, that Harry truly appreciated his Father's wisdom in picking the best people for the job. Despite having no group orientation as the Death Eater's appeared, in less than a single second they were ready, in a semicircle facing outwards, their wands up and prepared, all without a sound.

Harry stood behind the phalanx of men and allowed himself a brief moment to enjoy the tranquillity of the night. Somewhere out there, a cat yowled at an unknown adversary. There was the sound of a closing door, or perhaps some sort of sliding window, in one of the alleys – reasonable, since some shopkeepers lived above their livelihoods. If he strained his ears, Harry could just make out the wavering, off-key song of a drunkard. He could hear nothing else. Diagon Alley was silent.

Slowly, he withdrew his wand from the holster hidden in the sleeves of his left arm. He was almost reluctant to use it. He wasn't afraid of a good duel. It was unlikely that anyone could come anywhere near his level of skill, anyway. It was more that casting a spell with it seemed to hold so much more weight, so much more meaning than usual. Once he started, it would begin – the chaos, the terror. Screams, explosions and flames. Death, and the exhilaration of not being dead just yet, and knowing that such a fact could change in the next few seconds. It was more that once he begun, Diagon Alley would disappear, and even once it was rebuilt, if it was rebuilt, it still wouldn't be the same. Harry wished that he'd had a chance when he was younger to at least visit the street, experience it for himself. After tonight, he would never get the chance now.

It really was such a shame.

The first curse out of his wand was a simple Blasting Curse. Simple and crude, but undeniably effective. With a crash, it punched through the shop front of a broomstick store, the ornate lettering above the door – marking it as Quality Quidditch Supplies – disappearing in an explosion of metal, wood and glass.

The Death Eaters took his actions as a signal. Before the sound had even faded away completely, twenty more spells cast in different directions had joined his, a rainbow of bright colours lighting up the darkness of the street. They ripped through front doors, shattered shop windows and dug craters into brick walls as easily as a knife through butter.

The residents of Diagon Alley woke from their deep slumber into a world of utter chaos. Twin explosions blossomed from a nearby potions store, causing hungry flames to billow out onto the empty street. They caught onto the banners hanging outside what looked like an ice-cream shop and eagerly consumed them, its hot tongues licking at the roof of the building. Not too far away, there was a resonating groan that shook the air, and an entire building collapsed, releasing a cloud of dust and debris into the air.

That's when the screams began. No doubt, there had been people in that store, who were no injured and trapped by the very walls that had provided them with shelter. From where Harry stood on the steps of Gringotts, he could see the orange-red glow of a new fire beneath the stone. He raised his wand, his eyes narrowing briefly in concentration, and the flames roared in response, bursting into a full inferno. There was a horrible screech that was abruptly cut off, even as other shouts and yells began to fill the air.

The Death Eaters did not hesitate in their casting, nor were they particularly picky about their targets. They were ordered for destruction, and were more than happy to comply. Again and again, flashes erupted from their wands, blowing away walls and encouraging the fires, both the first one from the ice-cream shop and the second from the collapse of the building. Thanks to the shared walls of many of Diagon Alley's stores, not to mention often a shared roof, the collapse soon began to have an effect on the strength of the others stores as well, so that almost ten shops in a row on one side of the street broke away and crashed to the ground.

Soon, those that hadn't yet been trapped in their homes began piling out onto the street. At first, concerned with only the safety of themselves and those around them, they tried to run, but were trapped by a ring of chaos. Some managed to break away and escaped further down the street, but more often than not, they simply milled around like confused sheep, their fear clouding their judgement as surely as if they had been consuming too much alcohol which, Harry thought with disgust, was entirely possible in some of their cases.

True to their orders, the Death Eaters had so far ignored the terrified Witches and Wizards before them, focused only on the task of razing their homes to the ground. No one had yet to move from their position on the steps of Gringotts, preferring to use their high ground to search for ever more distant targets to burn. Soon, however, some brave souls managed to organise some semblance of a resistance. Spells weren't only been sent in one direction now, and Harry gave his men a new order.

"Kill anyone who fights back!" His guttural roar easily heard above the cacophony of explosions, screams and yells. Half the Death Eaters immediately began shooting curses into the crowd, their wands releasing a never ending stream of death. Avada Kedavra wasn't the only spell employed, with blasting curses, concussive hexes and a handful of much darker, more terrible spells.

Harry watched impassively, his own a blur, as Bellatrix, cackling loudly, sent an electric blue curse into an opening left by a middle aged man still in his boxers. The man let out a shriek that would no doubt have been deafening had it not been for the sheer amount of noise already present in the area, as his own blood turned acidic and began melting away his flesh. He tried to run, only to fall heavily to the ground when his feet became too damaged to walk, and he lay there, mouth moving without a sound now, as he disappeared in a puddle of blood and gore, even as, around him, people he may have known were blown away by flashes of green light.

"There's nothing left for us here!" Harry called to his men, many of whom had abandoned the task of destruction and were now duelling with the remnants of the defenders, simply because there was nothing left to destroy, "Move down the street, bring down every single one of these pathetic stores!"

A cry of approval ran forth from the Death Eaters as they hurriedly ended their duels, with the help of their peers. Some of the residents were hit with as many as five spells at the same time and simply ceased to exist, whilst others were blown so high up into the air that the eyes of those nearest were inevitably drawn to the inappropriately graceful flight of the body before they themselves were killed in a similar fashion. In minutes, everyone who had tried to fight against the Death Eaters was dead, or dying in excruciating agony, and Harry signalled for them to move on.

Before he could, a shrill scream ran out over the roar of the flames and the groaning yells of the injured. Harry whirled to see Bellatrix standing over a young red haired man, her wand connected to him by a beam of crackling, sickly yellow light. The man writhed in agony on the ground before her as she screeched in delight, her head thrown back in abandon. Bellatrix removed the spell, more to give herself a brief respite than the man, and pointed her wand at him again. She opened her mouth, her eyes narrowed in malice, but before she could utter the Cruciatus Curse again, she was blasted away, landing in a heap not far from her victim.

Harry swished his wand and the wand of the insane witch fell neatly into his hand.

"I SAID NO TORTURING!" he roared, throwing Bellatrix's wand back to her, fury coursing through his veins. "HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY MY ORDERS? YOU AREN'T HERE TO HAVE FUN YOU FOOL!" With another flick of his wand, Harry drew Bellatrix towards him and threw her over his head, and the heads of the watching Death Eaters, towards the part of Diagon Alley they had yet to touch. She landed heavily with a squeal of pain, but somehow managed to stagger to her feet, heavily favouring her right leg. She didn't stay on her feet for long, however, as she instantly dropped back to the ground and prostrated herself before Harry as the other Death Eaters watched warily.

"I'm sorry My Lord, I'm so sorry!" She repeated over and over again, not daring to look at Harry at all. "I got caught up in the moment, I'm sorry!"

Harry ignored her completely, instead turning his masked visage towards the other Death Eaters, who seemed frozen in place as they watched the fury of the Dark Lord's Son directed towards one of their own.

"What are you waiting for, you idiots?" He snarled, raising his wand. A collective flinch passed through the gathered men as they turned and sprinted down the street to create a new wave of destruction. Once they were gone, Harry turned back to Bellatrix. "I have decided," he informed her emotionlessly, "to delay your punishment until after this mission is completed. Get out of my sight and don't return until there isn't a single building left standing in this Alley!"

"Of course, My Lord," She replied, jumping to her feet immediately and retreated backwards away from Harry. She waited until she was well away, metres from him, before turning and running to join her peers, leaving Harry standing alone in the sea of bodies and debris, giant walls of hungry flames ravaging what had once been the shops of Diagon Alley.

Dumbledore looked worried. The lines across his ancient face seemed more pronounced than ever in the flickering light of the room as he surveyed the gathered men and women before him. Bill Weasley felt a cold tingle travel through his body. After all, when the greatest Wizard in the world stood before you looking worried then you shood be very worried. He glanced at those who were seated around the table.

On his left, stood Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, having chosen not to take a seat at all. His electric blue eye spun wildly without a clear direction, even as his regular eye was fixed unblinkingly on the old Wizard at the head of the table.

On his right, Nymphadora Tonks seemed unusually serious, her hair blond for once, rather than her usual shade of cheerful bubble-gum pink. It was to be expected, seeing as she had apparently been talking to Dumbledore shortly before this meeting was called, so she no doubt had some idea of what was going on. Her businesslike appearance didn't do much in the way of comfort for Bill.

Past her, Sirius Black lounged lazily in his chair, his black hair in complete disarray, having been, like the rest of them, rudely roused from his bed. Since Grimmauld Place was his house, however, he'd had less warning than the rest of them that a meeting was taking place, only knowing when they barged into the building. Despite his dishevelled appearance, however, his tension was clearly visible in the way his eyes darted from one face to the next, his tightly clenched fists resting before him on the kitchen table.

There were many other Witches and Wizards present as well, but those three were the only ones Bill had time to truly consider before Dumbledore called the mission to order.

"There has been," he announced, sounding tired, "an attack in Diagon Alley. There are about twenty Death Eaters present, and it looks as though they are trying to level the region. Apart from all our usual fighters, if anyone else would like to come help, then it would be much appreciated, but we don't have any time to lose." The man made to leave, but someone called out a question that forced him to turn and address the speaker.

"Albus, who did we have stationed there right now?"

"We have yet to receive any communications with our patroller there. Tonight, it was Arthur Weasley."

There was a shocked gasp, and Bill watched as his mother, who had just stood to volunteer, sunk back into her seat, her eyes wide and unseeing, even as Bill felt his own face whiten in fear.

Outside the kitchen, gathered on the stairs and in fact several floors above it, five shocked teens hastily tugged on the flesh coloured tubes that they attached to their ears for the purpose of listening into the details of the meeting. The Extendable Ears disappeared from view just before everyone poured out of the kitchen and made their way to the front door. Multiple cracks could be heard even inside the house as Witches and Wizards Apparated away.

Ginny Weasley turned her ashen face towards her fellow eavesdroppers – her three brothers, Fred, George and Ron, and one of her best friends, Hermione Granger. Ron and Hermione both looked as shaken as she did, but Fred and George weren't even glancing at her. Instead, they looked at each other, nodded, and got to their feet. With a wave of their wands, they easily transfigured their bedclothes to a set of plain back robes and headed for the door.

"Don't wait up, Gin Gin, Ronniekins, Ms. Granger!" Fred called over his shoulder as he raced down the stairs.

"Yeah," Affirmed George as he followed his twin, "We don't know how long we'll be!"

"Where do you think they're going?" Ron asked blankly, his freckles standing out clearly on his pale face. Had the situation been less serious, Ginny would have snorted at his cluelessness, but any amount of humour at the moment seemed beyond her.

"Isn't it obvious, Ron?" She snapped, rolling her eyes. "They've gone to help!"

"Oh they wouldn't!" Hermione protested, shaking her head. "Just because they can use magic now doesn't mean they'd rush into the middle of a battle!"

"You say that like they're going for fun!" Ginny said, with a scandalized expression as she too rushed for the stairs, "They want to help Hermione, innocent people could be dying!"

"Oh but-"

"Hang on," Ron protested, cutting off Hermione before she could reply, "Where're you going then?"

"You're a smart boy, Ronald, work it out!"

"You don't think..." started Ron, staring at Hermione.

"I think she is..." replied the bushy haired girl, her face worried.

"Bugger. Well she isn't going alone."

"What?" Asked Hermione, startled, "Wait, hey, Ron!"

Ginny caught up with Fred just before he stepped into the Floo. George, it seemed, was already gone. Fred's eyes widened perceptibly as he saw his little sister running towards him. He had already shouted out the name of his destination, the Leaky Cauldron, and before he could stop her, she crashed into them, sending them both flying backwards into the fire. There was a hiss of sparks, then in a flash of green flames, they were gone.

By the time Ron and Hermione reached the fire, it was too late. No matter how much Floo Powder they used, the fire wouldn't start, fizzling out within seconds each time. Of course, neither of them managed to work out why, because even Hermione hadn't read about such an effect yet. Neither of them knew that, miles away, on the other side, the Leaky Cauldron had just exploded.

A/N: Thank you for reading Chapter Two! How was it? Gory enough for you all?

Lord Ravenclaw II, there you go, Diagon Alley :P. The action isn't over yet, though, the fight hasn't even started yet!

Marinka, no, Ginny wasn't possessed by the Diary in her second year as, in a point that has yet to be made clear as far as I know, since Voldemort never fell, there was no need for Lucius Malfoy to use the horcrux! And as for Harry and Ginny's first meeting, well...you see :D Don't think she'll be too pleased with the number of dead bodies everywhere though...

Magery, you think this is going to be awesome? So do I :D! I can't wait to get well into the story, this chapter marks the beginning of it! Hope you enjoy this Dark Harry as much as I know I'll enjoy writing it!

That goes for all my readers as well! Hope you guys are enjoying the story so far, and looking forward to the next chapter! This chapter is actually a bit late, so sorry about that, but better late than never, right?

Until the next chapter (where we find out what happened to the Twins and Ginny!),

PowerOfOne