A/N: Enjoy, and please review. Thanks to all those who reviewed last chapter, or have recently favourited the story - it really is an honour.

XVIII. The Shadow War Part Two: The Dark Advance

Harry

I cannot describe the experience of being caged in the Pit.

The terrible, awesome presence of countless Dementors, all feeding off your mind and soul, is not something adequately depicted with words. But as a cliff by the water's edge is lashed over millennia by sea and storm, my mind too was similarly assaulted.

Icy needles tore through my brain. Voldemort's face floated in front of my vision as he raised the Elder Wand to kill me again, and again, and again, and again.

And my ears were filled with my mother's screams.

Again!

I was lying down, my face on the floor, in a large open room deep within the Department of Mysteries.

Y stood over me, his wand drawn. Kingsley and X sat on chairs at the edge of the room, watching.

I gritted my teeth and pushed myself off the floor, sending a curse flying at Y.

He brushed it aside as if it were only a minor annoyance, and shot a tongue of fiery light back. Only with a hastily cast Shield Charm did I block it, but I could feel the searing heat as it rushed past.

My concentration broke with the heat, and the second of hesitation was all that Y needed to slam me into the wall.

Another broken rib.

I crumpled to the floor for the second time in as many minutes.

"We make practice a battle, so that battle is just another practice!"

I swore under my breath at his mantra, then shook the stars out of my eyes, and fired a blasting curse at Y.

He bore the brunt of it with a shield of his own, but it drove him back a few feet.

It gave me the reprieve I needed. I focused, and blasted a series of powerful Stunners at my trainer.

He parried the first, and the second, dodged the third, but the final jet of light slammed into his wand arm. He grunted in pain.

It was the first time I had landed a hit on Y. It had taken a week. It would take another before I would land my second.

"Good! Let's go again!"

Ginny

Dear Ginny,

No doubt you will wonder, so let me tell you myself: the so-called Operation Wrath of Merlin is a lie. Neither Kingsley nor I have any idea where Harry is - but I do believe he is alive. We have to trust in him.

Rookwood is a dangerous threat, and I implore you to be careful - even at Hogwarts. This is how he works, sowing seeds of dissent to undermine us and what we have fought for.

We'll see you home at the end of the month.

All my love,

Dad

I reread the letter for the umpteenth time. I just couldn't decide if my father was telling the truth.

Rookwood's announcement on the radio that 'Operation Wrath of Merlin' was responsible for Harry's alleged death had only encouraged Hermione.

"Now we have a name," she had said.

"Do you think Harry is alive?"

"Yes, of course. I won't believe otherwise without concrete evidence."

Classic Hermione.

"For all we know," she said, studying the wall in the Room of Requirement, where she had been furiously rearranging her research, "Operation Wrath of Merlin could be so secret that Kingsley and your Dad didn't know it existed."

"Kingsley asked to speak to Harry, the day before he disappeared. I remember."

"Coincidence. I understand that it's easy to connect two things together," she said, waving her wand, "But most of the time, the connection just isn't there."

As if to illustrate her point, a golden thread linking two newspaper articles and a scrap of parchment with the word PARIS scrawled on it disappeared.

"Where are you, Harry?" Hermione murmured.

I hadn't stopped wondering the same thing.

Deep below London, a blonde witch with an easy smirk and silver-cuffed robes made her way into Kingsley's office.

"Minister."

"V, what have you got for me?"

"We found the traitor who leaked the blueprints. He was bribed by Julius Creedy."

"But what about the Unbreakable Vow?"

"The traitor wasn't authorised to work on the Project, and never took the Vow. He used the Imperius Curse on one of the engineers. The engineer left the blueprints out in the open, and the traitor collected them. Technically, those actions didn't break the Vow - an oversight on our part."

Kingsley nodded.

"What about this traitor?"

"The Department has dealt with the matter suitably," V replied.

"Do I want to know?"

V's visage turned bitter.

"He wanted riches. So we drowned him in Galleons."

"I've heard enough," Kingsley said with distaste.

"I also bring more fortunate news. Our St Mungo's asset expects X to regain consciousness soon."

"Are you making any progress with reversing the magic of the Light?" "M doesn't think that it's possible. In our latest round of testing, the Light deployed with complete efficiency. It acts like radiation. No wall can hold it, no shield can stop it. There simply is no escape."

The ward had five beds, but only the second was occupied. An Unspeakable stood guard at each end of the ward.

Hearing a voice, X groaned, and opened his eyes.

"Welcome back. The Healers said you had woken earlier," said Kingsley, taking a seat by his bed.

"What's the time?"

"Just past eleven in the morning."

"What day?"

"It's a Monday. It's been three weeks since you were admitted." "I've been out for that long?" X said incredulously.

"Yes…when the extraction team found you, your heart had stopped. You're in a private ward at St Mungo's. It's been touch and go. The Healers thought you'd died at least three times. It's a wonder you're alive at all."

Kingsley fished out a paper from his robes, unfurled it, and handed it to X, who read the words covering the front page aloud.

"Minister, what is Operation Wrath of Merlin? Fuck."

"That was the headline the day after we found you. Augustus Rookwood and his men broke into the WWN, killed twenty-one people, and broadcast a message to every single wireless in Britain," Kingsley explained. "He said he killed Harry."

X's face, already pale, drained of its remaining colour.

"Do we know for certain?"

"No. We haven't had word, nor have we seen his body. His status is officially missing, presumed injured."

"Presumed injured? Kingsley, they used the Nostradamus Light! Assuming he is alive - he's as good as dead! Potter doesn't have magic!"

He paused then, his face settling into an unreadable expression as he came to a bitter realisation.

"Neither do I."

Kingsley placed a hand on his shoulder.

"V is going to run some tests on you later. They're reverse engineering their spells, trying to undo the magic of their Light."

X looked up at the Minister, a hollow look in his eyes.

"There's nothing there, Kingsley. It's gone, and it sure as hell doesn't feel like it's coming back."

"I'm truly sorry."

"Don't give me that bullshit," X gave him a disgusted look. "What are you telling the Ministry?"

"Operation Wrath of Merlin is a myth, the ramblings of a dangerous lunatic. We still have no idea where Harry is, but we're reassuring the public that we believe he's alive."

"Are they buying it?"

"For the most part. Hasn't stopped them from holding 'Hope for Harry' vigils in the streets."

"They believe in him, Kingsley," X replied. "That I can understand. Because I do too."

Gawain Robards rifled through the sheets of parchment, each a report on Rookwood's activity. Not one was helpful.

He had never expected to be named as the Auror Commander. But after Kingsley had been named as the Minister for Magic by the Wizengamot, the Auror Office had looked to its most senior members.

And now he was expected to hunt down a a man trained in the depths of the Department of Mysteries, a super spy regarded as a strategic mastermind, with a sadistic streak a mile wide. Rookwood was a formidable opponent fighting the kind of guerrilla warfare Robards had little experience in, and short of covering every public target with guards - resources he did not have - there was no way to protect everyone.

He slammed the stack of parchment down on the desk in exasperation.

He was getting nowhere.

"Kara!"

A blonde witch poked her head around the door to his office.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Let Stark know I'm going home."

"Of course, sir."

Gawain appraised the young trainee Auror.

"How did your field test go?"

"Well enough. Second in the unit."

Gawain gave a small smirk. By protocol, trainees were not meant to share their scores with their classmates - a rule largely ignored by the aspiring Aurors for centuries.

"Excellent. That's all, Miss Albright."

"Sir."

He pulled some powder from a pot and sprinkled it into the fireplace that connected his home to a secure Floo line. Tonight, he would forget about Rookwood; forget about the fact that four senior officials had been murdered in the last fortnight; forget that the WWN was just a black scorch mark on Diagon Alley; and forget that the Prophet was writing headlines questioning his ability to get the job done.

He murmured his address and stepped into the fireplace, reappearing moments later in the fireplace of his own home. He dusted the soot off his robes and walked through to the dining room.

His wife lay unconscious, bleeding to death in a pool of blood on the floor. The bodies of two Auror guards were crumpled in the corner, victims of the Killing Curse.

And surrounding him, with a wand pointed at him from every direction, were Rookwood and his men.

"Robards!" Rookwood exclaimed. "I must say, it is a pleasure. Take a seat, please. This is, after all, your home."

Gawain didn't move.

Rookwood gave a barely discernible nod, and Gawain felt a wand being pushed into his neck.

"Crucio."

The pain brought him to his knees and he let out a yell.

"Take. A. Seat. Commander."

Gawain was shoved unceremoniously into a chair and his wand was taken from him.

"You know, we used to fear the Aurors in the early days," Rookwood said. His voice was silky, with barely an edge to it.

"Moody…fuck, now there was a leader. He slaughtered us like dogs. More than once I was convinced that he'd walk into my office in the Department of Mysteries undecided on whether he'd bother dragging me to Courtroom One or just kill me where I sat."

Rookwood sipped at his drink.

"But you Gawain, we don't fear you."

"Hell, we fear Potter. We fear Potter because for the last year he's been hunting us down. Wrath of Merlin is real, Robards. They're running it right under your nose. Believe me, I know how the Department of Mysteries works. It's all secrets, and the less the MLE knows, the better."

Rookwood fixed him with an intense stare.

"He killed thirty-four Death Eaters. That Manor house outside Birmingham. All Potter. He's no longer a boy. He's a weapon that threatened our very existence."

He leaned back and gestured with his palms.

"So what does a beast do when threatened? He cowers away, or he turns and fights….we decided to fight."

"He's alive, still. The reason why I haven't killed him myself is because I'm not entirely sure he'd stay dead. Nor do I want a Killing Curse rebounding in my face. So we sent him to hell. Of course, that was after we took away his magic with another one of Kingsley's toys that no one has bothered to tell you about."

"Say, isn't the Auror Commander meant to be in charge of national security? Seems you missed the memo."

Rookwood sighed.

"You're a good man, Robards. A good soldier. But you'll never be a great man. You'll never inspire, never truly lead. Not like Potter, not like Shacklebolt…not even like me. It's pathetic."

Rookwood picked Gawain's wand up from off the table, inspecting it with his hands.

"Not bad."

Suddenly, with a violent motion, he snapped it with a smirk.

"Why so quiet, Commander?"

Gawain Robards looked at the Death Eater in front of him with dead eyes. When he spoke, his words carried the weight of a man with nothing left to lose.

"Go fuck yourself."

"Defiant to the last, then," Rookwood mused, then shifted to instruct Creedy. "Break him."

Kingsley Shacklebolt woke with a groan to the sound of an alarm bell ringing.

He checked the wristwatch lying on his bedside table.

2:04.

"Minister."

It was then that he realised that his bedroom was full of Aurors.

"What the fuck is-"

"Minister, the Auror Commander is dead," spoke one of the Aurors, a voice Kingsley recognised as belonging to a senior Auror, Albion Stark. "We're here to transfer you to the Ministry."

"How long ago?" Kingsley asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"We were alerted by his neighbour - a retired Hitwizard - about half an hour ago. Said he thought something was off, and he was right."

"They killed his wife and son too, then tortured him. We don't know if he broke before they killed him, but we've changed all the security codewords and magical signatures to be safe."

"Do we have his body?"

Stark's face grew bleaker.

"Minister, they stuck his head on a stake in his front lawn. Here."

The Auror handed Kingsley a photo that depicted the gruesome scene.

"Fuck."

"The media doesn't know, but they will."

"Is the scene being cleared?"

"As we speak."

"Good. Last thing we need is this on the front page."

Stark nodded, and handed him one end of an umbrella.

"Ready?"

"Yes," Kingsley replied, grabbing ahold of the Portkey.

"Stand by. Prepare to receive," announced Stark, seemingly to someone located at the Ministry.

Kingsley felt the familiar jolt, and moments later, the group reappeared in the Atrium.

"Close the classified Floo lines," Kingsley ordered. "All essential personnel are to stay at the Ministry until Rookwood is apprehended."

"You don't think we're playing into his hands by having everyone here?" Stark asked.

"If Rookwood wants to take the Ministry, he'll have to take on me," Kingsley said grimly.

Harry

"I want to learn how to cast Fiendfyre."

X and Y shared a glance.

"The trick is not in the casting, but controlling it, Harry. A single drop of Fiendfyre can burn an entire city to the ground," said X.

"Voldemort could do it. He used it against Dumbledore in my fifth year. If he could control it, so can I."

"Fiendfyre is relentless, Harry. It does not forgive," Y warned.

"Neither do I."

"Fine."

Y made a broad stroke with his wand, and summoned a tongue of flame. It danced in midair, twisting with pent-up rage.

"Use your wand, command the fire."

I extended my wand and the tongue of flame latched onto the tip. Immediately, it flared up.

"Control it! Fiendfyre has no restraints, no rules. It understands nothing but to burn. It is pure chaos. Your will is it's only master."

I exerted control over the flame, and it diminished.

"Good. If you want to shape it, form the image in your mind, and loosen your control slightly. It will do the rest. The real effort is controlling it when you give it a new form," Y instructed.

"I understand," I replied.

I formed the image of a Hungarian Horntail in my mind, and the small tongue of flame blazed anew into the shape of the flaming beast with an ear-splitting roar. I let the beast encircle the room a couple of times, before enforcing my control over the flame once again.

It diminished, and then disappeared, leaving only a thin trail of acrid smoke.

"Congratulations Harry. Your progress this last month has been quite remarkable," X said approvingly.

"There is only one thing left to learn. The Dark Arts."

"Dark magic wasn't part of the deal," I replied adamantly.

X grunted. "Fine. I think it's time for a lesson in pragmatic strategy. If you believe that you can fight this war without a mastery of dark magic, then prove it. Defend yourself."

His attack came with a fury I had never encountered, not even from Y.

Lightning crashed through each shield I cast, and each spell I fired was brushed aside by black magic.

Three jets of sinister light shot towards me. I ducked, parried, and shielded, the last brushing over my forearm. I winced as a thin line of blood appeared.

And then I collapsed, screaming in pain as the curse began to dissolve the very flesh from my arm. The acrid stench of rotting meat filled my senses as I writhed about in agonising pain, before everything went black.

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked around the group of assembled Ministry officials.

With sadness etched across his face, he began.

"Good morning. Today, I bring you together to share solemn news. The Auror Commander is dead, murdered at the hands of Rookwood's men along with his wife and son. They were found at their home only hours ago. His daughter remains at Hogwarts."

A murmur of shock ran around the room.

"We are organising safe locations for your families. Clearly, the classified Floo lines can no longer be relied upon."

"All essential personnel - which is the majority of you here - will remain accommodated at the Ministry until this crisis is over. We have a nation to run."

"Minister, what are we to do?"

Kingsley looked at the wizard who had questioned him with a hawklike stare that betrayed none of the uncertainty that swelled in his chest, nor the fear that more meetings like this one would follow.

"Endure."

After the officials had filed out of the room, Kingsley slammed his fist against the table.

"Fuck!"

"Kingsley, you need to calm-" Arthur implored.

"They put his head on a stake in his own bloody front lawn! We are losing this war!" Kingsley yelled.

Arthur stood in front of him, his expression unchanging.

"Got that off your chest?"

Kingsley sighed.

"Yes. Sorry, Arthur."

The Weasley patriarch waved it off. "This is an impossible situation, Kingsley."

"The question is, what do we do now?"

"We've got every available person in MLE looking for Rookwood, but they can't find him or his group. The Department of Mysteries is desperately trying to plug their leak, the only place they're looking right now is the mirror."

"Minister - I'm addressing you as Minister because what I'm about to suggest, I want to do so in the capacity of the office I hold," Arthur explained.

"Go on."

"Use the Light," Arthur spoke simply. "Use it and end him, regardless of the collateral. He will reappear, and when he does, use it. Without Wrath of Merlin, it may be the only way."

Harry

I made my way back into the training hall where X and Y waited for me. My arm, still wrapped in thick bandages, still ached with sharp spasms of pain.

"Do you understand now?" X asked. Neither he nor Y displayed any kind of sympathy.

"Yes."

"Good. Are you ready to learn?"

"Show me."

X conjured a crackling bolt of dark energy from his wand, twirling it around his wand.

"Dark magic can be fuelled by rage, just as a Patronus can be fuelled by a happy memory."

"It doesn't have to be anger at a person, it can be anger at an ideal, anger at a sentiment, anger in the will to kill, the desire to cause harm."

"Magic that does this, magic that is dangerous - much is classified as Dark magic, but true dark magic is that which uses darkness itself."

"In every person, there is light and dark, good and bad. Mastery of dark magic requires you to embrace that darkness. Tip the balance, Harry, but only as far as you can pull it back. Succumb to it, and you will become no more than those who we are going to kill."

"Let your anger win, Harry. Let your hate for these people who have taken so much from you, taken your friends, your family, those you love - let it power your magic."

"Now cast, like this."

He gestured with his wand.

I mimicked the gesture, and lightning briefly crackled around my wand.

"Good. Try again. Focus. Summon the anger."

I let out a cry of rage, and a furious blast of black lightning burst from my wand.

It was exhilarating. I understood, for the first time, the lure of dark magic.

I felt invincible.

X and Y exchanged another look, appraising me.

"He is ready."

A/N: We're not out of the woods just yet! Thanks for reading and don't forget to let me know what you think.