A/N: The longest chapter yet, and I daresay I'm rather pleased with it. Enjoy.
XIX. The Master of Death
Rookwood reeled as a magically hardened fist slammed into the side of his head.
"Not so fucking smug now, are ye?"
Another blow hit him in the stomach, and he doubled over.
"Stop it!" barked a new voice.
"I don't want anything he can use against us," Kingsley said to the group of Aurors, before turning to Rookwood, bloody and beaten.
"We got you, you bastard."
Behind his bloodied face, Rookwood merely offered a smirk.
Kingsley made a noise of disgust.
"Process him," he instructed, turning away.
"You might as well get it over and done with now, Minister. A quick Avada Kedavra. Or would you rather Harry Potter did it? Tell me, Minister, where is he? I'm sure your Aurors would like to know."
Kingsley spun on his heel, drawing his wand as he did so, and pointed it directly between the Death Eater's eyes.
"Merlin knows I don't need a reason," he said bitterly.
"So the lion finally bears teeth."
Kingsley's answering Stunner blew Rookwood across the room.
"Take him to the Auror Office. I want four of you on him at all times. And I suggest you Obliviate the last five minutes from his memory."
"Of course sir."
Kingsley nodded and began to leave.
"Minister?
"Yes?" Kingsley paused mid-stride.
"It's good to have you back."
A few minutes later, Kingsley arrived back in his office.
In front of him, the Daily Prophet flashed, and suddenly, a new article covered the front page:
BREAKING: HOLYHEAD ATTACKED BY INFERI; ROOKWOOD CAPTURED; OPERATION WRATH OF MERLIN IS REAL
Late on Thursday night, terror struck the small town of Holyhead as a horde of Inferi, not seen since You-Know-Who still walked this earth, descended on the coast.
Tragedy seemed certain, until a lone wizard defended the beach with Fiendfyre, driving back the undead summoned by the Death Eaters of Augustus Rookwood.
The Prophet can reveal that this wizard was none other than Harry Potter.
Further evidence is now coming to light of a top-secret mission, answering only to the Minister himself, that was dedicated to the covert assassinations of Dark wizards and supporters of Voldemort.
This mission, dubbed Operation Wrath of Merlin, counted Harry Potter amongst its ranks.
The Prophet understands that the Operation had an unlimited, black budget and officially did not exist, leaving no paper trail of its actions. Appropriately, it was headquartered in the Department of Mysteries, but most other Unspeakables within the Department were not aware of the Operation.
Early estimates claim that Wrath of Merlin was responsible for the unsanctioned and unauthorised deaths of close to four hundred people, including at least two hundred marked and unmarked Death Eaters who had evaded capture or had not participated in the Battle of Hogwarts.
Hermione Granger - a close personal friend of Mr Potter - spoke to the Prophet late last night, in which she confirmed her suspicions about the actions of The Boy Who Lived:
"There was never enough evidence until now - and eyewitnesses from earlier incidents were almost always Obliviated, as I understand, but now, there is nowhere left to hide. Harry was part of this Operation from the very beginning."
And then further down the page:
MINISTER SHACKLEBOLT IMPLICATED IN BLACK-OPS MISSION
The Minister for Magic, who insisted time and time again that Operation Wrath of Merlin did not exist, was caught red-faced yesterday when Harry Potter killed fourteen Death Eaters in plain sight during a horrific battle within Holyhead Stadium.
Senior Wizengamot councillors could not be reached for comment at this late - or rather - early hour, but we have no doubt a formal hearing will take place in the next few days.
Kingsley slammed the paper down. No doubt the same article would appear in the morning's post. By that time, the whole paper would be a Special Edition, devoted to the dual task of celebrating the return of the conquering hero, and vilifying the Minister who let him do it.
Kingsley ran a hand over his scalp in frustration.
"Fucking reporters!"
"Sorry about that."
Kingsley jumped out of his chair as Harry stepped out of the shadows, pulling his Invisibility Cloak off his shoulders.
Harry
"Every person in the MLE is looking for you, and you decide to stroll on into my office," Kingsley recovered.
"I like to live dangerously. What now, Kingsley?"
"We're done. Wrath of Merlin is done. No fewer than six different Councillors serving on the Wizengamot are planning on delivering Arthur and myself summons for a special hearing. This was a risk I was prepared to take when the Operation began."
"How did you think it would end?"
"Eventually you'd run out of bodies, Harry," Kingsley said quietly. "And then we would've closed it down. You would rejoin the world - we'd invent some excuse for your absence - and no one would be the wiser. No one would know the terrible truth."
"But the truth is out."
"That it is," said Kingsley, standing and walking over to a side cabinet. He uncorked a bottle of Firewhiskey, and poured a measure into three glasses.
He handed one to me, and sipped at the second himself.
"Is Arthur coming?" I asked, puzzled by the third glass.
The fireplace in Kingsley's office suddenly flared up, and a distinguished looking wizard with a grey beard stepped out of the flames.
"Impeccable timing, as per usual," Kingsley remarked, handing the man the third glass.
"Harry, I want you to meet Magnus O'Brien."
"Good evening, Mr Potter," he greeted, before shooting a reproachful look at Kingsley. "Or should I say morning."
I shook the wizard's proffered hand.
"I served on the Wizengamot with your grandfather. The loss of the Potters was a loss to us all."
"I mean no disrespect, Councillor, but what use are you to me?" I asked curtly.
O'Brien chuckled.
"The young man has teeth," he remarked to Kingsley, before turning back to me. "Good. In the coming days, you will need them."
"Magnus has served on the Wizengamot for over half a century, Harry. He's a Senior Warlock, not a Councillor, and happens to be the most preeminent legal mind in the wizarding world. They say half of our law was written by Dumbledore, but you often don't hear about who wrote the other half."
"You give me too much credit, Kingsley."
"What did you do in the war?" I asked quietly.
"I endured, Mr Potter."
My impression of O'Brien had not improved.
"You may not think much of that answer. But even heroes need lawyers. When you want to get away with something, Mr Potter, you're best to deal with someone who makes it their business to get away with things," Magnus said with a wry smile.
I nodded. Here was a man who was in a position to help me. I recalled X's lesson:
Head over heart. In battle, you cannot allow your passion to rule your reason.
"Apologies."
"No offence taken, Mr Potter," Magnus replied, studying me acutely.
"What do we do, Magnus?" Kingsley asked.
"Tell me about Wrath of Merlin, Harry," Magnus asked me. "I have, of course, known about the Operation since your initial disappearance, but I should like to hear your take on your own experiences."
So I talked of my involvement, of my training with X and Y, the initial missions, and then that fateful night when I took my vengeance on the Death Eaters who had attacked the orphanage. I told him of Paris, and Y's death, and then my imprisonment in the Pit. I spoke of my escape from that hell, and then the assault on Holyhead, and the battle with the Inferi and the Death Eaters.
Magnus appraised me for a full minute after I finished. It was unnerving. Finally, he spoke:
"You're going to turn yourself in."
"What?"
"Turn yourself in to the Auror Office."
"Why?"
"Because it will do two things, Harry. Firstly, it demonstrates that you do not consider yourself above the law, and secondly, the public will love you for it."
"You have done things, that under wizarding law, are simply illegal. As it was not founded with a Wizengamot mandate, Operation Wrath of Merlin itself was illegal."
"Then I'll be imprisoned!"
"Do not be silly, Harry. Short of killing innocent people, do you really think that you, of all people, would be found guilty? I can appreciate that you have no love for the Wizengamot, Harry, but we are not stupid. Can you imagine the public uproar if we put you in Azkaban?
"Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, Mr Longbottom - just three amongst a thousand who would storm the island itself to free you! They do not know where you are or what you've been up to - although from the looks of things, Miss Granger has a fairly good idea. They are still your friends, Harry. The sacrifices you have already made excuse any transgressions you've made in the last year."
"You agree with him?" I asked Kingsley.
"I do."
"I'll do it."
"There is another matter."
"What?"
"Your wand."
My fingers curled around the Elder core.
"If you think -"
"No," Magnus replied. "I do not wish to ever touch it."
"I don't believe you."
"You were able to resist it before. You are hardly the only one. My point is, before you hand yourself over to the Aurors, you must relinquish it to someone else for safekeeping. Who can you trust to return it to you?"
I thought for a moment, and then gave my answer.
Neville Longbottom was woken from his sleep by a harsh knock at the door.
He sat up, reacquainting himself with his surroundings. He was still not used to staying at the Auror safehouse, but the Ministry officials had been fairly insistent.
"Come in!"
An Auror Trainee, hardly a year older than himself, entered.
"I'm very sorry Mr Longbottom, but the Minster for Magic would like a word immediately."
"Can't it wait?"
"He was quite insistent."
It seemed that everyone at the Ministry was insistent.
Neville got out of bed, and wrapped himself in a nightrobe.
"What time is it?"
"Close to midnight, I think," the Trainee replied, as they made their way to the fireplace.
"This is a secure Floo line, so it will take a bit longer for you to arrive. Take some powder, and then say 'four-eight-eight-five-one-one-two' - it's a classified code that will take you to your location."
Neville stepped into the fireplace, and a few moments later, he reappeared inside the office of the Minister for Magic.
"Kingsley, I-" he began, then stopped.
"Hi Neville," Harry Potter greeted him.
"Harry…it's you, you're-"
"It's good to see you, Neville."
"Where have you been? Is what they're saying true?"
"I'll explain everything in due course. But I need you to do something for me."
"Anything."
Harry held out his wand. Except it wasn't his wand - the one Neville had seen him use countless times in class, or disarm Voldemort with - but rather a different one.
It was the Elder Wand.
"I can't," Neville exclaimed.
"You, of all people can," Harry replied with a small smile. "I trust you to return it to me when I need it again."
The room inside the vast Department of Magical Law Enforcement was circular, and surrounded a large fire pit. A set of wide stairs descended into the flames.
A group of four Aurors, escorting Rookwood, bound and chained between them, approached.
"We're transferring the prisoner to The Holt. They don't want him interrogated at the Ministry," spoke one of the Aurors.
"Understandable. Stand by."
Three different wizards sprinkled a pinch of different coloured Floo powder into the gaping fire pit, all murmuring under their breath.
"Transfers inbound. The Holt is ready to receive."
The fire flared a shining bright blue as the group walked down the shallow steps. With a sudden flash, they disappeared.
But the group did not reappear at their intended location.
"Right on time, gentlemen," greeted a witch.
"What's the meaning of this?" the lead Auror asked, his hand on his wand.
"You're in the Department of Mysteries. We're taking it from here."
"On what authority?"
"The Minister for Magic," answered the witch.
"He has decided that the Department of Mysteries will undertake his interrogation."
"I've heard nothing from Shacklebolt saying-"
"He instructed me to tell you," she interrupted.
"The prisoner is maximum risk. I'm not handing him over to anyone unless the Minister himself tells me."
"Suit yourself," she replied. "Imperio!"
With a series of red flashes, her Unspeakables rendered the other Aurors unconscious.
"You will not tell anyone of this," she instructed.
The Auror nodded.
"You have supervised the transfer of Augustus Rookwood to The Holt."
The Auror gave another mute nod.
"Good. Stupefy."
The Auror collapsed to the ground with his colleagues.
"Modify their memories," the witch ordered. "If one of them remembers anything, you will all pay for the mistake with your lives."
The Unspeakables went to work as their leader tapped her wand to Rookwood's throat.
"Speak."
"What took you so long?" Rookwood said hoarsely.
"You've got ten seconds to convince me not to kill you, Augustus," the witch replied, her wand still pointed at his throat.
A slow smirk crossed his battered features.
"I can still get you Ginny Weasley."
Harry
I lowered my hood outside the imposing entrance to the Auror Office. The three guards standing at attention stared at me in sudden shock.
"I wish to turn myself in."
The last words had barely left my mouth when three simultaneous Body-Bind spells hit me, and I fell to the floor. Magical irons appeared around my wrists and ankles, glowing an angry red.
I felt dizzy. My magic was being suppressed.
"Check his robes."
One of the Aurors quickly searched my pockets.
"No wand."
"Get him standing."
The Body-Bind was removed, and I was pulled to my feet.
"Mr Potter, per magical warrant you are under arrest for the alleged murder of twelve persons at Holyhead Stadium, and under suspicion for several other incidents. Charges will be formally laid by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You will stand before the Wizengamot for judgement and sentence. You have the right to legal representation and you have the right to request a lawyer at any time, however communications you make whilst in custody will be monitored. You may, by your own volition, submit to the use of Veritaserum. So commands the Law. Do you understand?"
"I do."
"Process him."
Ginny
Wrapped in a warm blanket at an MLE safehouse, I sipped at a mug of hot chocolate.
"How are you feeling, Miss Weasley?" asked the Auror Trainee who had been appointed as my guard.
"Better, now," I said gratefully.
"Good."
"Where are the others?"
Several of my team-mates had been transferred to the safehouse with me, but I hadn't seen any since my arrival.
"They've left for alternate accommodation. They're not considered in the highest priority. You, on the other hand, are."
I didn't like it, but it wasn't like I had a say in the matter. Dad would keep me here until he could be sure I was safe.
I yawned, and glanced at my wristwatch. It had passed midnight.
"Head upstairs and take the second room on the left. It's got the best mattress."
"Sure."
"Oh, Miss Weasley - feel free to say no, but I was just wondering if I could get your autograph?"
I gave him a smile.
"No problem."
He handed me a quill and a napkin, and I scrawled a quick signature.
"I hope Coach starts you next weekend."
"Me too," I replied with another grin.
I headed up the stairs, and collapsed into the soft bed with a groan.
Harry
I was led into a cell, still clad in irons. The thick chains were secured on either wall.
One of the Gaolers placed a golden collar around my neck.
"I wouldn't, if I was you."
"You're a threat."
"I'm also Harry Potter. Can you imagine just how good my lawyers are going to be? Can you imagine what people will say when they hear that Harry Potter was collared like a dog whilst in the custody of the Aurors? Do you think it will create a public uproar? I think it will. And then the Auror Office will have no choice but to look to a scapegoat. Someone must be held accountable. Tell me, do you like your job?"
The Gaoler made a noise of frustration, took the collar off, then stalked away. The cell door clicked shut with a only a slight sound, but it would take much more than a simple Alohomora to open it.
In the cell next to me sat a young woman, surely not much older than myself. She huddled in the corner in a grey blanket, but upon seeing my face, her eyes had grown wide.
"You're Harry Potter."
"Yes," I replied. "What's your name?"
"My name is Anna. Anna Smith."
V had told me that a witch called Anna Smith had helped X before he had died. What were the chances of there being two?
"Why are you here?" I asked, suddenly curious.
"I attacked a man. I hurt him badly, really badly. I'm a Junior Healer, you see. I know how to hurt people."
"Can you remember anything about the man you attacked? What did he look like?"
"I don't know."
I recalled another lesson.
Constant vigilance.
"Can you look at me?"
She turned and I looked directly into her eyes.
"Relax. This won't hurt."
Legilimens!
At once, my Legilimency became a struggle, as the magic of the shackles worked against my power. I gritted my teeth against the pain. I had survived far, far worse.
In her mind, I found her memory. I watched as she struck at a shadowy figure with forbidden black magic. I went deeper, and saw her working at St Mungo's. Reading a book to a young patient. Comforting another after a surgery.
Evidence told me that the girl was guilty. Instinct told me otherwise.
Something was very wrong here.
The pain began to overwhelm me, and I jolted from her mind, gasping with the exertion. The same MLE Gaoler who had collared me dashed back into the room.
"What are you playing at, Potter?"
"This girl is innocent."
"What?"
"I have the right to legal representation, which I can request at any time. I wish to summon Magnus O'Brien."
"Can't promise I'll be able to reach him at this late hour."
A petty man with a small mind. I hid my anger.
"Please. If not O'Brien, then I need to speak to the Aurors on duty."
"I've had enough of your shit, Potter-"
"This might be the most important thing you ever do. Please!"
He walked out and I gave a yell of frustration.
It had been half an hour since the Gaoler had left. My patience had left a long time ago. Then, I heard the sound of neat footsteps approaching.
A red-robed wizard stood outside the entrance to my cell, a faintly curious expression crossing his features.
"I hear you want to speak to an Auror. You have sixty seconds."
"Where is Augustus Rookwood?" I asked quickly. "Why should I tell you?"
"Look, I appreciate you have no reason to trust me. You know what I've been doing for the last year. But in this, it's us or them. We are on the same side. Where is he?"
"Okay. He's at The Holt."
"When was he transferred there?"
"A couple of hours ago."
"How long would it take for you to confirm that he's there?"
"A few minutes. I can talk to the the guards through the Floo line."
"Can you do that? Check that he is there?"
"Why?"
"I don't think he ever arrived."
The Auror's expression grew sceptical.
"If this is some stupid joke, Potter…"
"It's not. I swear to you, I would not ask this if I didn't truly have cause to believe otherwise."
Ten minutes later, the Auror returned, a grim expression plastered on his face. Two other Aurors accompanied him.
"Potter, meet Tiberius Hawke and Siobhán O'Reilly."
"Can they be trusted?"
"Without a doubt."
"How did you know he wasn't at The Holt?" O'Reilly asked.
A wave of relief rushed over me.
"I was right."
"The Aurors who escorted him there insist otherwise," Hawke remarked. "Any ideas?"
"They would if someone had modified their memories," I said, then pointed at Anna. "Just like her."
"You're saying someone accosted four armed Aurors, and modified each memory? Who could do that?" Hawke asked.
"I don't know for certain, but I'm willing to bet they're employed by the Department of Mysteries."
I held my hands out, still bound in chains.
"Release me."
"What?"
"I don't have time for this."
I steeled myself for the rush of pain that was to come. With a burst of magical energy, my shackles snapped apart.
The Aurors had their wands trained at me before I could blink.
"Put them down," I said in disgust. "If I wanted to escape, I already would have."
They grudgingly lowered their wands.
"Now, do you want to get these bastards or do you want to fuck around?"
We reconvened in one of the briefing rooms in the Auror Office. More Aurors, including some I recognised, like Albion Stark and Proudfoot, arrived.
"We need to inform the Minister's Office," O'Reilly said.
"No," I disagreed.
"Why not?"
"I don't know how high this goes. But someone in the Ministry is working for Rookwood. If they have access to the Minister, then he is in danger. For the moment, his ignorance protects him," I reasoned.
O'Reilly thought for a moment, and then nodded.
"Fine, we do it your way."
I gave her a surprised look.
"I don't trust you. I don't trust the Department of Mysteries. But somehow you knew Rookwood wasn't at The Holt. That gets you some credit, Potter," she replied.
"What's the first move?"
"We've got to find Rockwood. And the spy. But we can't go through the Mysteries Intelligence Division. Chances are it's compromised," I answered.
"Regular MLE channels it is."
"Slow and unreliable at the best of times," I said.
"Cut us some slack Potter. We're hardly operating at peak efficiency here," said Stark, eyeing me suspiciously.
I ran a hand through my hair in frustration.
"Look-"
A pealing chime interrupted me.
Proudfoot pulled a small two-way mirror from his robes, and spoke into it. A moment later, a voice spoke from it:
"Oxford Street has been compromised. We've lost two Trainees."
"Fuck!" exclaimed Proudfoot.
"We took some of the Harpies players there earlier," O'Reilly said.
Not for the first time that night, a chill ran down my spine.
"Who?" I asked.
"Gwenog Jones. The new one from Australia," replied O'Reilly, before her eyes widened in realisation. "And Ginny Weasley."
"Weasley. Is she gone?" Proudfoot asked into the mirror.
"Affirmative. Miss Weasley is not there. She's been taken."
I stood, struggling to contain my anger.
"You put a safehouse on the busiest street in the world?"
I slammed my fist down on the table, and a long crack appeared in the surface.
"How soon can we get to the safehouse?"
"Less than five minutes."
"Get a Portkey. Or a Floo. Whatever," I instructed.
The Aurors began to mobilise.
"Oh, one more thing," I said.
"Get me Neville Longbottom."
We arrived at the Oxford Street safehouse - true to Proudfoot's word - in under five minutes.
I entered to see a group of MLE officials attending to two bodies - the Auror Trainees.
They looked so young.
I made my way upstairs and scanned the room that Ginny had stayed in for the few hours before she had been captured.
There were no signs of a struggle.
"She was likely Stunned in her sleep."
O'Reilly stuck her head around the door.
"Potter, have you seen this?"
I followed her around the corner to see a message written on the wall in blood.
I OPEN AT THE CLOSE
I froze, shocked.
Only a handful of people in the world knew about the Snitch and its significance.
Then, I realised.
She wanted the Resurrection Stone.
"I know where they are," I announced.
The Aurors looked at me in shock as I made my way out.
"Where are they?" asked Hawke, hot on my heels as I took the stairs two at a time.
"Scotland."
Harry
Only a couple of lights shone from the castle when I arrived at Hogwarts with the Aurors and Neville in tow.
I quickly outlined my plan to the group.
"Good luck, Harry," said Neville, clasping my shoulder.
"And to you too. Remember the signal," I replied.
He nodded.
"Potter," O'Reilly called out.
I turned, and she tapped two fingers to her forehead - the Auror's salute. I returned the gesture and she nodded.
No words were needed.
So again, I walked into the Forbidden Forest, following the path that was scarred into my memory. I would remember every step for as long as I lived.
My mind reeled as I went over the events of the last few hours in my mind. For the first time I realised how exhausted I actually was. From the battle with the Inferi, to the Death Eaters in the Stadium, the fight had sapped my strength. And now once again I was walking into a war.
I needed a desk job.
The clearing was approaching. I could sense the sudden absence of life in this small patch of earth, totally devoid of the light. A sinister fog blanketed the clearing.
"He's 'ere!" one of the Death Eaters exclaimed.
Immediately, wands were pointed at me from every direction.
"Do not harm him. Take his wand," instructed a guttural voice.
Hands tore at my robes, searching for any weapons.
"He ain't got one," another reported.
"Smart…or very, very stupid," the guttural voice came through again.
The dark fog was fading away, and a person standing on a mound of raised earth appeared.
"Bring him forwards."
I was roughly shoved in front of their leader, who removed their hood.
And then my worst fears were confirmed.
"You!"
"Me," V replied, with a look of pure sadistic satisfaction covering her features.
"How did you know about the Snitch?" I asked, shocked.
"I was a double agent from the very beginning, Potter."
She spoke with the same guttural tone I had heard earlier.
"How do you think Augustus managed to get his hands on the Nostradamus Light? I couldn't give him the completed work - the Unbreakable Vow would have killed me, but I was able to give him enough to create a replica. How did my Death Eaters get through dar-jach when they attacked the WWN in Diagon Alley? I left a loophole in it, ready to exploit."
"I did not foresee you escaping the Pit. When you did, surely, I thought, you would not prevail against the Inferi. Yet again I was proven wrong."
"You are truly unique. Truly the Dark Lord's equal. But it cannot help you now. You have lost this war, and for that, you will pay the price."
V waved her hand, and the last of the fog swept away to reveal a figure lying prone on the cold ground.
It was Ginny.
A baleful red orb hovered above her comatose body. Bathed in the red light, she somehow still looked deathly pale.
"The Nostradamus Light is going to kill her. Very slowly, and very surely, she is going to die as the magic is leeched from her. You can't imagine the pain she is experiencing. You are not so blinded by your rage that you cannot feel. Much of you reminds me of X and Y, but you are still your own man. You still love her, Harry."
"So knowing that you cannot save the one you love - despite all the power in the world - that is what will hurt you the most," she said, her eyes gleaming. "This was Dumbledore's burden to bear his entire life. It is not a burden you will bear for long, but you too, will die knowing she is dead."
I had a score of wands pointed at me. No Phoenix. No Sword.
"But I am willing to offer you a chance, Harry."
"The Resurrection Stone, in return for the life of the one you love."
"You think you can bring Voldemort back," I said bitterly.
"I know the Stone lies somewhere within the Forbidden Forest. I know that you could find it."
"The Stone won't work that way. Of all the Hallows, it's the most flawed," I replied.
V nodded, almost approvingly. "You're not wrong. But there is other magic - the darkest arts once lost to the ages - that will return the Dark Lord's power to me!"
"We are here because his energy still resides in this clearing. He stood, as I do now, at this very spot. I watched as he killed you. I watched as Narcissa lied to him. She will pay for that betrayal - the Dementor's Kiss, I think," she mused. "Here, the Dark Lord was at his strongest. Here, you died. In that moment, he was unstoppable."
I lifted my head, and spoke a single word:
"No."
She let out a short, barking laugh.
"This clearing is mine, not his. What you don't understand, what you will never understand, is that this clearing was my victory," I continued.
V narrowed her eyes, and then gave me a smirk.
"Alright, Potter, say I indulge your delusion. Tell me how."
"Because I chose to come back. I didn't have to, but I did," I replied. "For every move you made, this was one you didn't foresee. By choosing to reckon with me, here, you've lost."
"I don't believe you, Potter. What proof do you have?" she asked.
"The magic in this clearing - the dreaded stench of death…you feel it just as I do, just as any person who has killed would -"
"What's your point?" she interjected
"It's not Voldemort's magic. It's mine."
"You're lying."
"On the first anniversary of the final battle, I came here. It reeked of him, his mark. The disgusting taint of his energy lingered here. I removed it."
"This is the Dark Lord's magic!" she spat, suddenly enraged.
"There's a reason it feels that way. I was the eighth Horcrux. I was the one he never intended to create. When he killed me here, it was not me that died, but that eighth part of him."
"Impossible!"
"Yet here I stand. This place will do nothing for you."
I gave a bitter laugh.
"For all your efforts, for all your scheming, for all the lives you threw away, just for this moment…you didn't account for one crucial thing."
"Death bows to no Master…but me."
I had come to the Forbidden Forest, once again, to face the evil that Voldemort had spawned.
But this time, I had not come without company.
"NOW!" I yelled.
Sure, they weren't X and Y, but I had to hand it to them: the Aurors could bring in the firepower.
The two closest Death Eaters were struck by multiple green jets of light before they could even react.
And then, as cover fire rained down around him, Neville Longbottom sprinted through the clearing, and threw the Elder Wand to me.
I wrapped my hand around the wand and its power joined with my own.
With two quick strikes, I blasted an oncoming Death Eater into pieces. A livid bolt of magical energy cut down two more.
The Aurors were entering the clearing now, engaging in pitched battle with the Death Eaters.
And then there he was.
Rookwood.
Suddenly, nothing else mattered.
Bolts of dark energy erupted around us as we duelled, both desperately trying to gain the upper hand. For every curse cast, there was an answer. I countered. He parried.
I unleashed a wave of livid fire, and he shielded himself against it with a blue aura.
He unleashed a series of complicated wand strokes, launching a stream of curses. I parried, blocking several, but two caught my shoulder, leaving a deep jagged cut.
I gritted my teeth, blocking out the sharp pain, and sent a blasting spell that had him stumbling.
He was mine.
I shot a jet of purple light that collided into his chest. He doubled over, desperately trying to shelf my next curse.
It didn't work.
I shattered the bones in his wand arm, and he screamed. With two more flicks, I destroyed his kneecaps. They shatter with sharp cracks.
With another strike, I cut him open from shoulder to waist, before unleashing a curling blue flame that set alight inside his chest. He writhed in agony on the dead earth.
"This is for Fred."
A brilliant white bolt of light exploded from my wand, and blew a gaping hole through his head as the flames engulfed him.
Augustus Rookwood was no more.
With the Elder Wand, I was once again the Master of Death.
Suddenly, an explosion rocked the clearing, and sent me tumbling to the ground.
Black magic convulsed around me as I returned to my feet to face V.
She had the same ferocity as X and Y, and not an ounce of restraint.
A livid tongue of dark energy shot out at me, and I countered with a torrent of golden light that blasted from the Elder Wand like a shotgun.
Like my duel with Rookwood, for every curse of mine, she had an answer. She launched a flurry of purple hexes at me, and I dodged to avoid them. Two more curses followed. I shielded against the first, but the second curse slashed across my leg, creating a vicious wound. I yelled in pain, and threw up a shield to block V's next hex.
A stream of blood was gushing from the wound, and then a stabbing pain blossomed in my thigh as the dark magic began to dissolve the flesh around the wound. I fell to my knees with another cry of agony.
Black spots appeared before my eyes. If the pain continued, I was going to pass out.
I clenched my teeth together, and ignited the tip of my wand with Fiendfyre. Steadying my hand, I plunged it into my leg, cauterising the wound instantly.
The stench of seared flesh filled my senses, and I retched violently.
V watched with sadistic amusement.
"I don't suppose you'd like to try that again, Potter?"
"Get fucked, bitch."
Like a machine gun, bolts of light fired from my wand in rapid succession, and V was driven back against my new onslaught.
With a yell, she riposted with black lightning. I cast inky black lightning to meet her own. Shards of dark energy, each fatal, passed mere inches from both our faces.
V launched a rushing torrent of Fiendfyre at me. I gestured with my left hand, and brought the lethal tongue of flame under control, reducing it to a mere spark, before relaunching it back at her.
She too, dispelled the flames, angry that I had countered even this.
"You can't win, Potter! Every moment you delay, she comes closer to death!"
Her words jolted my rage.
"ENOUGH!"
My body shook with magical energy and my effort to contain it. I launched a barrage of blazing light that drove V backwards. For the first time, I had the advantage. With the Elder Wand, I drew a circle of blindingly bright magical energy.
Brilliant white light exploded from the glowing circle and blasted through her like a force of nature, brushing aside her shield as if if didn't exist.
When the haze cleared, she was struggling to stand.
"That was for X. This is for Y."
I shot a bolt of vicious red lightning that engulfed her, and she fell to the ground again, writhing about as the dark magic charged through her body.
With two quick stabs of my wand, I broke her wand hand and burst her right elbow. She gave a hoarse cry of pain, and coughed blood.
"Potter…"
Her breathing came in laboured gasps, but there was a triumphant gleam in her crazed eyes.
"Just as he split his soul seven ways, to create his intended seven Horcuxes, he entrusted seven of his most loyal to protect his legacy. Severus Snape betrayed us, and another three died in the Battle of Hogwarts. Leaving me…and two more," she whispered.
"The last two...they will hide away for years. You may never find them, but from them you cannot hide."
"You don't think I can stop you?" I asked grimly. "Tell me who they are!"
I poured magical energy into her wounds. I could not interrogate the dead.
"You cannot save me for your torture, Potter," she replied, even as my magic worked to expel the darkness killing her.
A thin trickle of blood ran from her nostrils, and she bared her teeth in a final gesture of defiance.
"It is my will to die."
Her left arm shakily rose from her side, as if by its own volition, and her hand formed a claw surrounded by a black aura.
I realised too late.
The claw-like hand plunged through her chest and pierced her heart as she gave a final, grotesque scream.
A/N: And you thought last chapter was top gear…
Please let me know what you think!