A/N: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release (or not lol, fuck JKR).

Content Warning: Extreme violence and misery. Reader discretion is advised.

Malfoy Manor

Lucius Malfoy did not consider himself to be a particularly nostalgic person. His mind was not wired in a way that left much room for romantic reminiscence about his past, or the ever-elusive prospect of "that which once was". He was not the type of man to spend hours looking at old photographs, remembering people and places that had once been relevant to his younger self.

No, Lucius was very much a forward-thinking individual. His plans were often measured in years and decades, not days or weeks like most people's. It was his defining trait, his ace in the hole. The card up his sleeve, which had allowed him to come out ahead on the road to success, where so many others had faltered.

But today… he found his thoughts stuck in a hellish loop of sentimentality. Fragments of his past kept bubbling up to the forefront of his mind, painting vivid pictures in his head of bygone days and old acquaintances.

One person in particular kept coming back as a featured highlight; Narcissa. Which was odd, because she was his wife, and a person he had seen on an almost daily basis since the dawn of their marriage twenty-something years ago.

The first time Lucius had laid eyes on her, he had been an aspiring young politician with meager achievements and grand ambitions. At this point in his life, he had yet to realize the true value and convenience of ruling from the shadows, and as such, still had his eyes fixed firmly on the role of Minister for Magic.

On that particular evening, he had been attending a ball hosted by the Greengrass family. It had been a night of merriment and opulence, and probably a few too many shots of Firewhisky. Conversation had been fluid and easy to come by, and Lucius had been thoroughly enjoying a political discussion with Avery Senior when, out of the corner of his eye, he had spotted a brief flash of dazzling blonde.

Turning his head, his words had promptly died on his lips as he took in the sight of quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Sitting there with her ocean-blue eyes and regal posture, Lucius was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. His legs had carried him in her direction without second thought, like a thirsting man in the desert towards a distant oasis. Before he knew what was happening, he was standing next to her table, lips curled upwards into an elated smile.

"Forgive me, my Lady," he had said. "But I can't remember meeting you before, and I simply must know your name."

And… that had been the spark. The crossroads at which his life had taken a drastic turn. The origin and crux of his love-life, of his devotion to this woman.

Merlin knows she had not come easy. Wooing her had been a multi-year process, involving numerous dates and winding conversations about all manner of topics. One would think that the mere prospect of marrying into a family as illustrious as the Malfoys would have been enough to convince her. But no. Not Narcissa. She was too proud and resourceful to fall for such bait.

Not that the process itself had been strenuous. He had enjoyed chasing after her, for the simple reason of love itself. Which was a type of motivation he had rarely chanced upon in his life, for his mind was not one that placed much stock in such irrational and fallible reasonings.

Luckily, he had managed to break through to her eventually. After a lovely day spent wandering the streets of Hogsmeade, talking about this and that, they had found themselves on a hill overlooking the town, basked in the light of a thousand stars. There, he had confessed his love to her. His burning desire to kiss her and become hers, in both body and soul. And she had responded.

It was strange to think about, really. How obsessed and love-struck he had been back then. Nowadays, they barely shared more than a dozen words a day. They rarely, if ever, ate together, and had not made love in ages. The ever-advancing passage of time had whittled away at their relationship, until naught but rubble remained.

In fact, when was the last time he had kissed her? Merlin's beard, it must have been… two years ago?

A dark shadow cast itself across his features. What had happened to that youthful version of him, so full of vigor and life? When had he become this… this husk of a man, so focused on power and influence that he would willingly disregard his family in the pursuit of it?

His eyes landed on the letter in his hand. It was from Draco, and contained information pertinent to the Dark Lord. His Master had positively bristled with excitement upon having it read aloud to him.

YOUR SON WILL BE REWARDED FOR THIS, he had said, though the words had been spoken through the medium of his mind, for he yet lacked a physical body. CALL FOR BARTY. I HAVE A JOB FOR HIM.

Lucius had left the room with much prostration, bowing his head repeatedly to the floating spirit of the Dark Lord, made manifest by the steady supply of blood flowing from the three corpses that had been strung up along the walls.

All this power… All this influence… And for what? To be used freely at the discretion of a bodiless monster?

The thought weighed heavy on him as he moved towards his study. Even his home was no longer his. It all belonged to the Dark Lord now – to his Master. Lucius was nothing but a lowly servant, forced into obedience and vassalage.

Even Draco… Even my own son works for him now…

Lucius loved Draco, even if he found it difficult to show. Draco was the culmination of his and Narcissa's love - proof of their union, and undying commitment to one another. He was the best of them, and yet… he resembled his father a little too much.

Lucius did not want Draco to become a Death Eater; truly, he didn't. His boy deserved a better life than that. And yet… Draco had been so eager to please the Dark Lord, so eager to volunteer information about his classmates. He had even suggested that… that the Dark Lord kill the parents of an innocent child, just to hurt Harry Potter.

And the Dark Lord had listened.

Merlin knew Lucius harbored no goodwill or adoration for the so-called Boy-Who-Lived. But hearing his own son speak so gleefully about murder… it did strange things to his heart. He mourned the loss of his son's innocence, even though he himself had played an integral part in its disintegration.

Maybe Lucius was simply growing sentimental in his older age – or maybe, just maybe… he had caught a glimpse of a better life in Voldemort's absence, following his supposed death at the hands of Harry Potter.

Cogs in a machine… he thought to himself as he went to fetch Barty. And the machine is a self-serving, cruel thing.

Godric's Hollow

A sonorous crack sounded throughout Church Lane as Albus Dumbledore apparated to the place of his childhood, his grey robes billowing in the sudden rush of wind that followed. Within moments, he was assaulted by the stench of ruin; charcoal burning mixed with the sickly-sweet odor of blood.

His eyes wandered across telltale signs of battle and destruction. Large gouge-marks had been drilled into several of the buildings surrounding him, leaving blackened spots of crushed rubble and debris. Flames licked at wooden surfaces, taking hold and expanding into blazing infernos that threatened to claim anything or anyone who dared venture too close.

The corpse of a young man lay strewn across the cobblestones up ahead; a gaping hole in the lower section of his chest, pumping out spurts of blood that fed an ever-growing pool of crimson beneath him. It only took a glance to realize he was dead; his blue eyes vacant and dim as they stared in Albus' direction.

A strained grimace settled on the Headmaster's face as he took it all in. It looked like the Death Eaters had wasted no time here; they had moved through the streets with relentless intensity, bringing death and destruction to all. The thought alone set his blood ablaze with furious anger, yet he did not allow it to cloud his reasoning. The danger had not yet passed. He could still save lives. He just had to remain calm.

Even through the maddening fog of war, Albus's early memories of this place burned bright and clear in his mind as he walked up the road, past the corpse with the blank eyes. Every recollection was drenched in the bitter aroma of tragedy.

A vision of the past clawed its way up from the depths of his subconscious, assaulting his senses.

Ariana, his sister. Her tear-stained eyes. Her bloodied lips, and bruise-covered arms. Her desperate calls for mercy, as the boys continued to beat her, ignoring her cries with wicked smiles on their faces.

He shook the unbidden image from his thoughts. This was no time for such indulgences. Pandemonium awaited him. And for that, he had to keep his mind sharp.

A loud boom echoed from up ahead, followed shortly by the screams of more than a dozen people. Albus quickened his steps, walking past a group of terrified villagers who had gathered outside a post-office to seek refuge from the fighting. Their fears were soon made lighter to bear, however, when they realized who had just passed them.

"T-That's Albus Dumbledore!" one of them said.

"Thank Merlin, we're saved!" another one responded.

I pray your faith in me is not misplaced, Albus thought to himself as he rounded a corner, bringing St. Jerome's Church into view up ahead.

"Reducto!"

A blue flash barreled towards him from an outstretched wand, having been cast the moment he stepped out into the street. He had to applaud the assailants' efforts; had Albus not already had his wand waiting in the palm of his hand, the curse would have likely killed him.

"Protego!"

Tendrils of light coalesced into the shape of a shield in front of him, absorbing the incoming projectile with ease. An outraged cry came from the attacker; he had not expected Albus to be able to block his spell. Albus did not wait around for him to recover, however; he chained the wand movement from the Protego into another, firing off a wordless Stupefy with pinpoint accuracy, striking the dark-robed man square in the chest. His slender body went rigid at the impact, before flying backwards to crash helplessly against the tarmac.

Aim to incapacitate, not kill, Albus thought, his eyes already scanning his surroundings for any other potential threats. We need to interrogate them afterwards.

"Diffindo!"

Another spell came zooming at him, from further down the street. He raised his wand in preparation, and narrowed his eyes. Their spells were slow, compared to Grindelwald's. He did not even have to block this one, he merely batted it aside with the tip of his wand as it came within arms' reach.

I suppose that's another thing I owe him, Albus grimaced. He gave me plenty of dueling experience.

A Stupefy came flying from his wand, crashing into the hastily-cast Protego of the Death Eater. For a moment, it looked as if the shield might hold. Then, Albus's spell took on a darker color, before bursting through the light-barrier and impacting the man on the other side.

They are no match for the power of the Elder Wand.

"Confringo!"

This time, the attack came not from a single assailant, but rather, half a dozen of them. They had been waiting on the rooftops of some nearby buildings, and jumped to action when they heard Albus battling their companions. Six bolts of flame burst forth from sparkling wand-tips, threatening to bury him in a hail of fire.

Albus pointed his wand at the approaching orbs, and willed them to obey. The orange-tinted bolts stopped mid-air, where they writhed and squirmed, fighting against his influence. Ultimately, though, their fervor could not match his.

The Death Eaters all screamed as their own spells came ricocheting back at them, lighting some of them on fire and sending the rest hurtling to the ground in a mad dash.

… I wasn't supposed to kill, Albus frowned, resuming his march towards the church. I could have just immobilized them.

To his right, a local villager was engaged in battle with a Death Eater. The two were taking turns flinging spells at each other and blocking, neither one managing to score a decisive hit. Albus broke the stalemate by striking down the Death Eater with a Stupefy.

"T-Thank you, kind sir," the villager breathed, his middle-aged face and brown hair sprinkled with bits of rubble and blood. "I-I don't know how much longer I would have been able to hold out."

"Get to safety," Albus replied. "I will handle things here."

"Y-Yes, sir."

What is the objective? he wondered to himself as he watched the villager retreat. What do the Death Eaters hope to accomplish by doing this?

"Behind you!" a gruff-sounding voice bellowed. Albus's body reacted on instinct alone; it ducked down with surprising speed, barely moving in time to avoid a flickering green curse, which came trailing over his head moments later.

The Killing Curse, Albus thought, a scornful anger flaring to life in his chest. The Elder Wand hummed with excitement; it could feel its owners' renewed fury, and knew what awaited.

An incantation was shouted out, and an angry spell followed. It was the Bone-Breaking Curse, and it had been cast by the man with the gruff-sounding voice. The blood-tinted bolt struck true, and Albus could hear the Death Eater's ribs snap as he was sent flying.

"Thank you," Albus said, turning to regard the newcomer. His eyes soon widened as he realized who it was.

"I don't want your gratitude," Sirius snarled, a resentful gaze meeting his. "You fucking traitor."

"Sirius!" Albus gasped. "But… how? How are you here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Sirius replied, with no small amount of venom in his voice. "I bet you would have preferred me in Azkaban."

"Of course n-… Argh, there is no time for this," Albus sighed. "For now, know that I am thankful you are here. I dare say I would have died just then had it not been for your intervention."

"Again, I don't want your fucking gratitude," Sirius spat. "Just point me in the direction of the Death Eaters and I'll be on my way."

"The church," Albus nodded. "It is where I myself am headed."

"Oh, lucky me," Sirius grumbled, turning to move away from him. Albus promptly followed.

The two of them continued on in silence, their wands raised, their eyes peeled. Every now and again, a Death Eater or two would pop out of their hiding places, only to be swiftly dispatched with some well-placed spells. The difference in strategy was readily apparent; where Dumbledore aimed to incapacitate, Sirius sought to kill.

There was no mercy to be found in his steely, grey eyes as he cut down his opponents, the shadows of Azkaban lurking ever-present in the predatory curl of his lips. Seeing him like that sent a chill down Albus' spine, though he couldn't bring himself to comment on it. It was partially his fault Sirius was like this now, after all.

Before long, the couple arrived at their destination - the battle-scarred St. Jerome's Church. A collection of charred corpses littered the ground outside, blackened flesh clinging to scorched bone. All nearby greenery had been burned away – only the church remained, its cobblestone walls dented and cracked.

Over on the far side, Albus could make out Professor Flitwick locked in combat with two Death Eaters, his tiny form darting this way and that as he worked tirelessly to dodge his opponents' spells.

"Think he needs help?" Sirius asked, a tense expression marring his features.

"No, I do not. Professor Flitwick is an excellent duelist. He will be fine on his own," Albus replied. "I would rather you check the other side of the church – there may be civilians in need of medical assistance there, or… well, more Death Eaters."

"Ahh… And just like that, I'm back to taking orders from you," Sirius grimaced. "Just like the good old days, huh?"

"I'm not ordering you to do anything, Sirius," Albus breathed. "I'm simply asking, one friend to another."

"Okay, first of all, we are not friends," Sirius growled. "That train left the station a long time ago; roughly around the time when you stood by and did nothing as I was sent off to die in Azkaban."

"Sirius… please."

"… Hmm. Fine. I'll check for survivors. But don't expect me to come running back when I'm done. As soon as I know everybody is safe, I'm getting outta here."

"That is fine," Albus nodded, inwardly letting out a sigh of relief. He had not wanted things to escalate between him and Sirius here, in the middle of an active battlefield. That conversation could most certainly wait. "Best of luck to you."

"Yeah, right," Sirius scoffed, before taking off with his wand at the ready.

I'll have to find him again once this is all over, Albus thought, watching him leave. But for now, there are more pressing concerns.

He moved toward the oaken doors that would take him into the church. Even from this distance, he could feel the aura of death and despair that seeped out from within.

He strengthened his resolve, and stepped inside.

Within moments, he was submerged in the manifestation of Hell on Earth. The metallic tang of blood hung thick in the air, stinging his eyes and coating his tongue. The sight that accompanied it was horrid beyond belief. Mangled corpses lay scattered about in the rubble, their torsos viciously torn open, exposing their chest cavities. Puddles of blood were peppered across the floor, mixed with something that looked like a combination of vomit and bile. Limbs were twisted and bent in revolting shapes - skin marred by gashes and tears.

And there, standing amidst the carnage, was a large, vicious-looking man with matted grey hair. A thin layer of grey fur jutted from his skin, colored a deep crimson from the blood of his victims. Pointed teeth and long, yellowish nails tore through a woman's corpse, mutilating her beyond recognition as he feasted on her flesh.

"Fenrir Greyback," Albus said, his voice laden with poorly-concealed disgust.

"Ahh…" the savage creature breathed as he turned away from his meal, still crouched, his wolf-like eyes glinting with a feral wildness. "Albus Dumbledore. What a surprise, seeing you here."

"I think not," Albus responded, raising his wand in preparation for battle.

"Do you wish to kill me?" Fenrir grinned, making visible the chunks of flesh stuck between his sharp teeth.

"There can be no salvation for someone as wicked as you," Albus said. "Only death, so that you may be kept from ever harming anyone again."

"I don't usually feast like this, you know," Fenrir continued, ignoring Albus' raised wand like it wasn't even there. "It's counter-productive. How am I supposed to grow my pack of wolves if I eat all of the potential recruits?"

"Lycanthrope is an atrocious curse, yet you would gladly infect us all with it," Albus breathed. "There is no atonement for your crimes."

"It's better to infect them young," Fenrir said, rising to stand at his full height. He easily towered over Albus, with his measly six feet. "Raise them away from their parents. Teach them the way of things, before their minds can be poisoned by the Ministry and their ilk."

A wordless Diffindo flew from the Elder Wand, slicing through the air to strike Fenrir in the chest. The large wolf-man deftly dodged the spell, leaning right as it whirled past him.

"There is just one small problem, though…" Fenrir continued, his lips twisting into a hideous smile. "Child-flesh is so delicious."

"Die, creature!" Albus shouted, an angry tendril of electricity streaming from the tip of his wand like a whip. A snarl came in response, before Fenrir dashed forward, his massive bulk turning into a blur as he moved. The lightning-whip missed him by a hair's breadth, cracking against the cobblestones with a resounding snap.

Albus swung his arm to the side, dragging the whip with him, but Fenrir was faster. He ducked underneath it this time, before using the sudden shift in momentum to catapult himself towards Albus. His blood-stained nails cleaved empty air as Albus apparated three steps forward and spun around.

"You'll have to be faster than that," Albus said, before summoning forth a wellspring of fire that he launched at the wolf-man in a cone-shaped form. Fenrir swiftly hurled himself to the left in order to avoid it, but didn't quite manage to get out in time. The left side of his arm caught fire.

"Oh, trust me, old man. I can be much faster," he said as he grit his teeth against the vicious pain, patting out the flames with his free hand.

"Then by all means – utilize your strength," Albus replied. "It will not be enough to save you."

"Hmm…" Fenrir grumbled, narrowing his eyes. "No. I sense that my job here is done. You'll live to see another day."

The spell that came from Albus' wand next was of a distinctly darker nature than anything else he had cast that afternoon. It would have likely ruined Fenrir's internal organs completely, had he not ducked out of the way in time.

"Finally getting serious, I see," Fenrir laughed. "Too bad I must leave you now. We'll resume this some other time, I think. Thank you for entertaining me, Headmaster."

And just like that, he was gone. A loud crack followed his sudden apparition.

Merlin damn them all! Albus sneered. An outraged hum of energy came from the Elder Wand – it did not like having its fight interrupted.

"Albus!"

The unmistakable voice of Professor Flitwick tore through the silence that had descended upon the room.

"Yes, Professor Flitwick?" Albus sighed, returning the Elder Wand to his robes. Anger and indignation still burned in his veins, but he willed it to cease as he turned to face the Charms teacher. Fenrir was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it for now.

"There's… The Death Eaters, they've… Oh Merlin, it's horrible!" the part-goblin wizard cried as he came to a halt some steps away.

"What is it, Professor Flitwick?"

"T-This attack… I think it might have been a distraction, Albus!"

"A distraction?" Albus frowned. "Explain."

"I've… I've just received word from Minerva," Professor Flitwick stammered. "Godric's Hollow… it wasn't the only place the Death Eaters attacked!"

Albus felt his blood turn to ice in his veins.

"… Where else did they strike?" he asked, his mouth feeling dry and arid.

The answer he received made his heart break in his chest.

A/N: Told you this chapter was going to be dark.

I apologize once again for my lengthy hiatus. Every time I say "two weeks", it always ends up being a month lol. I hope Dumbledore's badassery was enough to make up for any potential disappointment. Yet another chapter without a Harry/Hermione appearance...

The next chapter is also going to be very depressing, as you can probably tell from that cliffhanger, so be prepared for that. Things are going to get worse before they get better.

Also, to the guy who said that the idea of Veela being incapable of monogamous relationships due to their sexual nature was lazy and awful - no, it isn't. It's realistic. Take a moment to consider their abilities (read, the Allure) and then tell me with a straight face that they would not be more sexually inclined than any other creature in the Wizarding World. Besides, I never said they were "incapable" of monogamy. Fleur very clearly stated in chapter 33 that she did not sleep with Roger Davies because she did not wish to share such an intimate thing with him. I'm sure there are plenty of Veela like her out there, who can easily stick to one partner. Apolline just happens to be more promiscuous. Also, open relationships are a real-life thing that exists. Don't be so quick to dismiss other people's preferences just because they do not match your own. That's called bigotry, and it's not a good look.

Anyway, to the rest of you - I hope you enjoyed the read. Be sure to leave a review with your thoughts, and I'll see you again in the next chapter. Twisted out.