Author's Note: I will be unable to copy-paste the story, so it is necessary to type it out. Could take a little while, but I have confidence it should be finished Tuesday or Wednesday at the latest.

I do not own Twilight, Harry Potter, or this chapter of the story (those belong to their respective authors) and I never will.

Enjoy Reading!

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The night was murky and deep. Barely any moonlight managed to seep through the thick canopy above; the huge trees surrounding the clearing towering like guardians of the sacred ground below where mist curled along the uneven dirt - guarding the ground where the culmination of over fifty years of preparation would either be snuffed from the plane of existence, or all hope would fall.

Two shadows circled, moving slowly but with a purpose; stalking each other like two predators ready to pounce in an instant if even a shred of weakness was shown. "So, it has finally come to this," a low hiss was issued from one of the shadowed figures, notably taller than the other. "Finally, we are near your end and the beginning of all my eternity."

If the sardonic snort from the smaller shadow bothered the taller one the latter didn't show it in his movements. The voice that retorted a moment later was male; low and smooth - confident even. "Always with the melodramatics, aren't you Tom?" That did get a reaction from the taller; a small falter in his slow prowling and a quiet hiss of annoyance issuing from his mouth. "In your all-knowing confidence and arrogance - believing that you are infallible and impervious - you have brought us here to do battle, as you claim, with honor."

The smaller shadow's prowling, for the slightest moment, passed into a flittering patch of moonlight; illuminating an angular face. Stubble clung to his cheeks, chin, and neck in a dark shadow and two startlingly emerald eyes were illuminated from within for a moment as if embers had been placed behind them. Above those eyes - the glass they hid behind seeming to make them even sharper in their intensity - rested a jagged scar on the young man's brow. The moment passed, and both were shadows once more. "Ah but young Harry," came the serpentine rebuke - amusement audible in the malicious tone, "I thought to do you the honour of not disgracing your vaunted light side with seeing your death. Surely it would break the resolve in their fight. I'm doing you a favour."

For a second emerald eyes narrowed as the smirk on a thin, pale pair of lips was illuminated before disappearing back into the darkness. "Honour Tom? Favour? Your initiation rite into your Death Eaters involves the murder of a muggle family with children. And I need not say more as to what happens to them. You lost all honor long, long ago Tom."

"Your 'favour' was so that you can gloat and reveal things you would have your Death Eaters not know about your past - like you being a half-blood just as I am. How every time they kiss your robes or allow you to torture them you are all-powerful above those that consider themselves elite." The smaller shadow stopped in a beam of moonlight, prompting the taller to do the same, and emerald gaze met a malicious crimson.

The crimson eyes were sunken between serpent-like eyelids that were narrowed in distaste and anger; the man's lips twisted into a downright evil scowl that promised torture and misery and suffering to any that beheld it. His nose was all but non-existent, all that was visible were two narrow slits that flared with fury; his skin inhumanly pale with veins that almost glowed with dark magic pulsing as his control over his impulses waned.

The emerald gaze that beheld this haunting visage slitted. "Face it Tom, all you really are is a scared, bullied little boy that wasn't strong enough to weather the storm and succumbed to mutilating your body, sacrificing your humanity, and becoming an abomination to nature. Oh, and Slytherin's locket," here Tom jerked and his eyes widened as Harry's mouth slowly curved into a smirk, "Helga's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, your diary, your father's ring, and why... I do believe Tom, you're familiar Nagini... that you sent into a battle in which Neville Longbottom is fighting..." here Harry's smirk reached its fullest. "Neville Longbottom, who has a basilisk-venom-imbued sword and knows to keep an eye out for her."

The relative silence that had been maintained in the small clearing was decimated with a roar from the self-proclaimed Dark Lord Voldemort.

What followed was a battle that, had it been witnessed by a historian, would have been memorialised through the ages. Jets of multi-coloured lights flew through the air at such a pace and frequency that it was hard to discern one from the other. Huge craters formed in the ground, kicking up dirt like artillery fire; trees became alight in flame and sawdust erupted from their trunks as massive gouges were cut from them.

Deadly animals came into existence and just as quickly were blown apart; huge walls of stone and ice and fire and earth erected and then fell, and sharpened metal erupted throughout like shrapnel; tearing through anything it met.

This battle, of proportions not seen since the times of Merlin and Morgana, raged for what felt like an eternity, but could scarcely have been more than ten minutes before two single things happened at the same time.

A blood-red ball of magic collided with Voldemort's left shoulder and flashed before emitting a dull, wet thud, and a jet of red hit Harry square in the chest. Voldemort roared in pain; his left arm and shoulder blowing apart as if detonated from within, while Harry's world was engulfed in blinding agony that dwarfed all thought. Unfortunately for the young man, the fury that Voldemort felt at having been bested so thoroughly in combat only fuelled the torture curse to new heights.

Harry was left writhing for several minutes, and yet he would not give Voldemort the satisfaction of a scream; only grunts escaped his lips. The Dark Lord finally tired of not getting a reaction and dropped the curse before summoning Harry's wand and catching it to rest beside his own in his only remaining hand. Throwing it dismissively over his shoulder he stemmed the bleeding from the stump that had recently held his arm to his torso. He then stalked toward the young man that had struggled to his knees, still twitching from the aftershocks of the torture curse, to watch his approach with fearless eyes, which just made Voldemort's anger surge higher.

Coming to a stop just two meters short of the kneeling young man who was struggling to keep his back straight, just in case the little bastard had any more tricks up his sleeve, he sneered. "And so ends the hope of the light - defeated, alone, his cries of agony unheard and unheeded."

Harry gave a weak chuckle, spitting a glob of blood at Voldemort which conveniently hit the man's shoe. "And yet I died with honour in my heart, my loved ones on my mind, my family in my soul, and my eighteen-year-old body only bested in a duel that lasted longer than any in the last thousand years... against a self-proclaimed Dark Lord that has eighty years of experience, dark power-raising rituals, and a demonically-enhanced body. You've gotten lazy." he finished with a smirk, and it didn't even die on his lips as a green curse impacted his chest and he was flung across the clearing before landing in a lifeless heap.

Deep amber eyes snapped open and a gasp erupted from pale rose lips in an involuntary reflex, and four heads snapped around to stare at her; their eyes eerily like her very own. A pale skinned man with combed back honey-blond hair leaned forward concernedly, eyes conveying worry. "Alice, what did you see?"

Still trying to process the gravity and experience of what she had just witnessed all she could manage at first was a quiet and halting, "Something wrong... so wrong... so important." That was the crux of her confusion and bewilderment - it had felt wrong. All the while she watched that young man Harry engage in combat that had filled her with awe, she had felt a growing sense of dread and, in the pit of her stomach, a ball of ice slowly form.

A head of messy blonde hair encroached on her unseeing eyes, and a moment later she found herself staring into familiar amber eyes. Normally she would welcome the sight of them and the face they rested upon, but at the moment she didn't need the distraction. She cut off whatever her long-time friend was going to say with a raised hand, and the flicker of a shadow raced across Jasper's face but he acquiesced all the same and retreated back to his chair from leaning across the table.

Alice's mind raced. Her visions usually happened in an instant of comprehension, and then she would decide how she felt about it and what to do. But not this vision. It had been unusual in several ways she had never experienced; both in its clarity, immersion, and length, but above all else when the jet of green light impacted on the unwavering young man's chest everything that she was, and the very vision itself had screamed that this was not meant to happen. When the body had been thrown back and remained unmoving - her vampiric sight not even seeing the slightest movement of breathing before the vision went dark - that feeling had intensified until it was almost overpowering.

Never in her hundred and three years of life, and unlife, had she ever experienced a vision and a surety of what she needed to do at that very moment, for, in the silent room as she tried to access her sight, she found only murkiness with not even a single image flickering into her mind. Just as she had never had a vision like that, never had she been unable to divine anything either.

"Carlisle, I need the jet. Now."

Before the elder of their small clan could even provide an answer, Jasper had leapt to his feet, a frown creasing his brow. "Why?" he demanded, and she sent him a small glare; her delicate features creasing in disapproval and her pixie-cut's fringe whipping across her brow.

"I don't have time to get into it, Jasper-"

"Well then I am coming with you." He said firmly, and Alice's frown deepened, mild irritation turning into an outright glare.

"Jasper, while you and I have been best friends and companions for decades, you do not get to order me around. You are a newborn to our way of feeding, and I will be helping a mortal that has cuts and gashes all over his body from a battle I could not even begin to describe to you. As good as you are becoming being around mortals, Jasper, the smell of blood still sends you into a frenzy."

Jasper's entire countenance darkened when he heard that it was a mortal man she was so determined to go to, but Carlisle interrupted the argument before it continue. "Jasper, Alice is right if what she said is true." He told the young vampire with a firm tone he had perfected as a doctor over centuries. He turned his gaze to Alice and stared at her sharply. "Are you sure about this, Alice? Do you truly need to do this alone?"

For a moment she hesitated and her eyes flickered across the faces of Esme, Edward, and her clan leader. Was it truly wise to face this unknown alone? Her head told her it was foolish - to face whatever that lightshow had been and a man that reeked and oozed pure evil alone was a fool's errand... and yet in her heart she knew it was a journey she had to take alone. It was her gift that had shown her this; her gift that had all but screamed that this travesty simply must be stopped... and if there was one thing Alice always did it was act from the heart.

Against Jasper's increasingly vocal and bitter protests, Alice was speeding towards the Victoria International Airport with her foot to the floor at two in the morning; the only reason she made it safely in just half an hour she thanked her vampiric reflexes and night-sight for.

Driving straight into the terminal, with only a quick flash of her passport to the gate guard, she drove straight up to the hurriedly prepared Gulfstream, threw the keys to the waiting valet, and immediately boarded. The steps were immediately raised back into the aircraft and Alice sat down on a chair, declining a drink from the smiling blonde lady acting as the air-crew as politely as she could while her anxiety grew every single solitary second longer it took for the pilots to conduct their pre-flight checks. She had never regretted so much not taking piloting lessons at some point in her life, because she knew that with her vampiric speed she could have the minutes it took down to single digits.

Finally, they smoothly taxied onto the runway and she unclenched her hands from the arm-rest, hoping that the flight-attendant didn't notice how the metal had bent under the enormous pressure of her fingers. The next seven hours felt like they dragged by with aching slowness, even more so when, after the flight attendant had turned the lights off so that Alice could 'sleep' she found that her foresight was still not showing her anything but a murky darkness. Finally getting fed up of doing nothing she picked up the satellite phone and started making preparations for her arrival.

The moment she stepped of the plane she was whisked through customs, quite easy considering her only luggage was a small backpack containing the essentials, picked up a rental car that had kindly been delivered by the closest Aston Martin dealer for a four-figure tip, and sped off into the early evening light - thanking the powers that be that it was a very drizzly and overcast day.

As she sped along the relatively deserted roads she let her gift guide her, just as it had to Scotland. While it wasn't showing her anything, it was as if it was nudging her in the right direction - almost like a soft caress against her mind. At over 200mph Alice hadn't anticipated getting to where she would need to proceed on foot would take long, and her predictions proved correct when just half an hour later she stopped the car on a silent country road next to huge, looming trees that formed a dense forest. Throwing her backpack over her shoulder and not even bothering to lock the car she leapt into the quickly darkening overgrowth.

Bounding up onto the first row of branches she hopped from one to the next as a blur, and yet her footfalls were as silent as the quiet wind brushing the leaves around her together. Spotting her prey, she dove; her 25ft drop halting as her legs came either side of an unaware doe's neck before twisting sharply to the right; a loud, bony crack echoing out as the animal collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

While her heart told her not to dally on feeding, for once she told herself that facing such an evil with unknown but awe-inspiringly destructive powers without having fed for five days would be incredibly foolish. A mere minute later she was flitting between the trees once more; her amber eyes even darker than usual with her hunger having been sated. Her legs were a blur; petite, athletic thighs and calves that would look more at home on a ballerina propelling herself forwards at speeds that she was well aware could almost match that of the car she had just been driving. Leaping upwards and then launching herself high above the moonlit canopy her sharp eyes scoured the treetops as she spun in a full circle at her apex... and just as gravity took hold, she saw it.

The second the toes of her left foot touched down on the first branch they met, curling inwards to gain traction, her entire being was launched towards where the faintest flickers of light had pierced upwards from beneath the canopy. In seconds the scene from her vision that she had so vividly been replaying over and over in her head appeared before her; becoming larger and larger at each millisecond that passed.

And her eyes widened in utter horror when she saw the green light impact the young man's chest.