Unrelated to Chapter 1 - This was to be part of "The Dangers of Hunting the Dark" but I have somewhat abandoned that story for now. If you want to see more of it, leave a review.

Disclaimer: The recognizably named places, names of recognizable characters and other such material is owned by their respective copyright holders. All storyline segments, situations, original characters, places and other original content is owned exclusively by the author.

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E?WE?

Timeframe: Present Day

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Hermione Weasley looked at the man who was her first friend, her first crush. Even after he killed Voldemort, he was recognizable, though clearly tortured by his choices. Now, she only recognized the face, though the scars caused here heart to beat quickly in fear as they moved and writhed across it. She no longer recognized the soul...the spirit of the man she once knew. When she'd finally found him in the smoky, hole-in-the-wall bar in Cairo, she wasn't sure what she would find.

As she entered, she felt the eyes of the men staring at her as if she was a piece of meat. She walked up to the bar and was about to speak with the barkeep when a large, malodorous man walked up behind her and gripped her shoulder.

"Wha' do we ha' here? A wee bi' o' strumpet," he said, sniffing at her neck and loudly laughing.

Hermione thought he smelled of urine, stale sweat and rancid meat. She was about to unload her wand into his gut when another voice stayed her hand.

"Enough!" a voice rasped. Although it sounded as if it were only a whisper, the words were felt to echo off the walls, floor and ceiling. Silence washed over the room. "She is here as my guest, Timmon. Unless you wish to test your skills against me," the voice said again.

Although there was no directionality to the sound, Hermione sensed it had come from a cloaked figure sitting at a table in a corner in the back of the bar

Timmon shuddered and released Hermione's shoulder and bowed. "Beggin your pardon, Miss. I hope I din't hur' ya," he said apologetically.

Hermione nodded. "No harm, no foul," she said then walked to the table in the corner.

Now that she saw him, her first instinct was to run and cower.

"H...H...H...Harry," she said quietly.

He looked up at her, the hood of the cloak falling back so she could see his face. The scars on his face seemed to ripple and move in the torch light but his green irises now ringed in an unnaturally glowing red caught the scream in her throat.

"I know your face," he rasped.

Fear gripped her. "Surely this cannot be..." her thought began but was interrupted by him talking.

"Hermione,"he said, then laughed an evil, little laugh. "You came looking for me, just as Luna said you would. How is our little seer?" he asked, his voice tinged with hatred and mirth.

"Dead," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"Pity," he said emotionlessly. "And your husband," he said snidely, "how is he?"

"Also dead," she said, tears forming in her eyes. She looked to the ceiling to try to quench the tears and provide a focus. The sight of the goblins and a small number of house elves hung from the rafters nearly did her in. She quickly looked back at him.

"Well maybe your news isn't all bad then," he rasped brightly. He gestured up at the ceiling's decorations, "their kind are not accepted here. When they come in the second time, which they always seem to do, the barmen try to accommodate their desire to stay. They no longer bother the elves, thanks to you," then his voice seemed to soften, "and our dear friend."

He then looked directly into her eyes and pinned her there with his gaze, searching within her for something. "Why have you come looking for me? Why now? What is it you seek? Your thoughts are hidden from me. I am impressed," he rasped. He stood, walked around the table and pulled out the chair she had been standing next to. He gestured towards it. She looked at him in distrust. "Sit," he said softly, the harshness leaving his voice, "please?" She sat and he helped slide her chair in. He walked around and sat back in his chair, raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

The barkeep nearly ran over. Hermione heard his panicked footfalls so was not startled when he arrived at the table. Her gaze, however, never left Harry.

"Yes, Sir?" the barkeep asked, the fear clear in his voice.

"The usual for me and my guest will be having?" Harry said.

"Butterbeer please," Hermione said.

"I'm sorry Miss, we don't have..." the barkeep began saying.

Harry tapped his finger on the table. "I'm sure you can accommodate the Lady's request," he said.

"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir," the barkeep said then hurried back over the the bar.

"Still the teetotaler, I see," Harry said in amusement.

She was about to speak when he raised his hand for her silence.

The barkeep returned with a bottle and a shot glass for Harry and a bottle of Butterbeer so cold that frost had formed on the outside of the bottle. He left without saying a word.

"You're turn," Harry said.

"Harry, my husband was murdered. Luna was murdered. The Death Eaters are on the rise again. They claim they have somehow resurrected Voldemort again!" she whispered fervently.

"That is not possible. His soul was not banished. It was destroyed. Consumed. Utterly gone," Harry said, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Then they haven't resurrected him?" she asked, a look of hope on her face.

"Oh, they've resurrected something, alright. I have felt the tremors in the dark. Riddle was just a bad wizard. He aspired to be evil. His mind would have shattered if he were faced with the evil he would want to become," he said.

She looked at him questioningly.

He sat forward and flipped the shot glass right side up then filled it from the bottle. His voice became pensive.

"Evil never dies. Darkness never retreats. In the cracks and the crevices of our world there are monsters undreamed of by the rank and file of humanity. I've been there. I've seen them. They exist in the spaces between things, in the folds of existence where we can't find them. Sometimes they cross over, sometimes they manifest, and all hell breaks loose. Only this is not Purgatory, nor Paradise. This is like nothing anyone has ever understood. This is pure evil, pure destruction. This is the Apocalypse."

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