Ascension: The Promise of Prometheus

by Define Anachronistic

(AU) Harry and his closest friends have resolved to enlist in the Auror Corps to gain the necessary authority to combat their enemies head-on. However, brutal training, a harsh Squad Captain and a plot that could destabilise the Muggle and the Wizarding Worlds need to be dealt with first. But where there is adversity there is also opportunity and that's where Harry thrives.

12. Non Est Asylum

CHAPTER SIX

Non Est Asylum

The team returned to the Citadel just as the clock struck ten. It was the latest they had been there in an official capacity and- aside from the Sentries that stood guard at the gate and watch towers- they didn't come across anyone when they entered the deserted bullpen.

Captain Solace strode directly for the interactive map at the centre of the room. "Find me, Acacia Asylum!" She tapped her wand against the map which blurred and magnified towards a county to the north of London. Harry wondered if the original Marauders had simply taken all their ideas from their time as Cadets.

The map finally stopped magnifying and gave them a bird's eye view of the building in question. "Acacia Asylum, located in Middlesex and closed in 1961 for inhuman treatment of their patients." Terry paused his reading of the tiny Odeon display. "Well, that's awful."

"It belongs to a person: Oliver Sterling." There was something familiar about that name, but Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it. However, most of his attention was diverted to another issue. "Doesn't the government own all the hospitals?" He could recall Vernon complaining about the government's waste of taxpayers' money on healthcare.

Solace shrugged. "I'm not sure about the finer details, but an individual or a company can own a hospital, especially if it's out of commission." She frowned. "Normally it would be for the land and nothing unusual-"

"-but a wizard died there." Harry finished and she nodded solemnly.

"Well, it wasn't for the land," Anthony remarked from where he was still going over the displayed information. He had already transferred it to his Ouroboros. "The last construction on site was in 1967 when the local council put up barricades to stop the local kids from getting in." He grimaced. "Some kid broke his neck and died in there on a silly dare."

"That's weird, isn't it?" Michael asked. "Not the stupid dare thing-Thoth knows we've done worse- but the fact that so much developed land has been left just outside London for almost thirty years?" The other boys stared at him, not quite getting what he was saying. "It'll be worth a lot of money." He simplified.

"He's right." Solace agreed. "And the fact that there is no official record of Muggles having anything to do with the place makes me think that one of ours might have illegally taken it for themselves."

"That can't be right." Harry had finally remembered how he was familiar with the name. "It says here that the owner, Oliver Sterling, purchased it just last December. He's a famous Muggle newscaster," he added when he received his own blank looks. "But it changed hands quite a few times since it was closed, sometimes for a few months but the longest period of ownership was from 1980 to now, 1993."

"So?" Terry asked. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm not sure, but don't you think it's weird that it was sold so many times without any construction or development?" Harry double-checked his Ouroboros for the financial details. "Or even a profit being made?"

"Definitely weird." Michael agreed. "What's the point of buying it if you're not going to get something out of it?"

"Unless whatever their using it for is the profit." Solace mused on that for a minute before changing the subject. "The next shift will be here to relieve us in under two hours. I can wait to investigate it until then." The boys began protesting all at once, but she spoke over them. "Whatever killed Jeremy did so tonight, otherwise his ghost's manifestation would never have caught our attention."

"For all we know they might already be gone." Harry countered. When Solace looked doubtful, he added, "Do you think they would hang around the scene of the crime?"

That made her pause. "You all want to come?"

"As far as I'm concerned, this is part of the same mission." Anthony reasoned. "We're just following a lead from one crime scene to the next."

Solace sighed. "Alright then. But we all have to agree on this because I trained you four to work as a unit." Her expression was dark, haunted even, and she spoke with more gravity than Harry had ever heard from her before. "You must be on your absolute guard. We know for a fact that one person has already died, so you have my permission to use any response that you deem necessary in the defence of yourself, a civilian or your teammates. Lethal force if it comes to it." She faced each of them in turn after saying that, as though expecting them to back down once she made it clear how serious this was. Instead, she was met with four resolute expressions.

Harry spoke for all of them. "We're in."

Nodding, Solace turned away to indicate a location on the map, a spot that was a little way from the Asylum. "Obscure yourselves and meet me at this point."

Solace put on her Supersensory Goggles before obscuring herself from their senses and the boys followed suit. Once Harry had disillusioned himself, quieted his footsteps and vanished his scent, he turned on the spot and disapparated to the location his Ouroboros put into his mind.

He appeared in the middle of a flat plain of grass with a busy four-lane road to his back and a council estate half a mile to his left. Up ahead, roughly a quarter of a mile away, the high stone walls of the asylum. Glancing around with his goggles, it took him a second to spot the heat signatures of his team as they were crouched low in the tall grass.

As he made his way over, he extended his Mana in a controlled burst towards the asylum, checking it for any signs of lingering magic. "There's a Barrier in place on the gate and the walls, but I might be able to get through it," Harry reported when the team was reunited.

Even though he couldn't see her, he knew Solace must be curious as to how he could pull that off, but all she said was, "Be careful. They wouldn't have put up defences if they weren't willing to hurt others to protect whatever's going on in there."

Harry appreciated the show of trust, so he didn't bother hiding the summoning of his Invisibility Cloak from her. He threw the hood over his already disillusioned body and ran off.

While his Cloak had been able to get him through the protections that had been put in place over the Shrieking Shack and other students' dormitories, he was unsure if it could sneak him through whatever protections had been put in place here. However, he knew that he was his team's best bet of getting in without detection, so hurried towards the asylum's outer walls and then around the perimeter, avoiding the main gate.

It was only once had made a full circuit around the asylum that he accepted that the local council had done their job a little too well. The side entrances and back gates were all heavily barricaded, and while he could certainly force his way inside, he couldn't do so without making an obvious disturbance.

When he reached the front gate, Harry slipped his kindjal from his mokeskin pouch and sliced through the lock and chains that kept it closed. Making his way inside, Harry began to search the grounds between the gate and the asylum for the Anchor that was holding the Barrier up, but it wasn't as well concealed as he'd expected. He found it half-hidden in the cramped space between the stone wall and the dilapidated little shed that served as a security guard's post.

Coupled with how easy it was to enter the grounds, Harry began to feel a little nervous about this. Slicing the Anchor as he did the lock, he hurried back to the rest of his squad to report his findings.

"It is strange." Solace agreed when he finished his retelling. "Between that and the heat coming off an asylum that's meant to have been unoccupied for thirty years? It's all strange."

"But we're going in to investigate it anyway, right?" Terry sighed.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to." Solace reminded him. "But this is your last chance. I need you all to focus on completing the job once we're inside."

"I'm coming with," Terry said quickly. "But that doesn't mean I have to be over the moon about it."

Her face was still invisible, but Harry could tell from just her voice that she was smiling. "Follow me." They fell into formation and matched her light jogging pace towards the gate that Harry had left cracked open. They had only just made it halfway through the courtyard before a cacophony began to echo across the open air.

Harry wasn't sure about the others, but his training kicked in and he managed to stop himself from yelling in pain before he tore off his Supersensory Goggles. The sound was meant to incapacitate or distract them from the hundred paramilitary soldiers that were streaming out from the building to surround them. Their dark, armoured bodies were illuminated by the blazing searchlights that turned night as bright as day. But Harry was less concerned with their numbers and more with the rifles they were carrying.

"Heads down!" Solace ordered, which the boys immediately followed. After all their run-ins with the Witch-Hunters over the centuries, Aurors had learned how to defend themselves against their greater numbers. The first step was making bulletproof uniforms a standard issue. With their cloak hoods up and their heads down, the Hunters were more likely to hurt themselves than the Aurors they encircled.

The noise finally stopped, and a voice called out, barely audible over Harry's still ringing ears. "We got a call from a friend of ours to be on the lookout for any Nosy Nellies heading our way!" It sounded familiar to Harry. When he risked a glance up, he saw the face of Oliver Sterling looking right back at him. "We caught sight of the boy first through our thermal imaging, but we wanted to wait until you all fell into our net."

Harry had been annoyed when Solace first told him that she didn't know of any spell that could dampen body heat without threatening the target's life, but that was nothing compared to how he felt now.

Not one of them answered him. They kept their heads low and ears sharp in case the soldiers that surrounded them began to close in. "I know your uniforms are bulletproof. This isn't my first tussle with your kind." Sterling revealed. "But you should know that our partner has supplied us with an alternative method."

Even with his eyes focused on the well-lit ground, Harry saw flashes of light illuminate it further. At the same moment, he felt something punch him in the shoulder. It was only a fraction of a second later- when he felt the tugging sensation behind his navel- that he finally heard the repeating bangs of the first bullets that were shot at them.

Portkeys, Harry realised much too late as he was whisked into a world of swirling colours and sound. They're shooting at us with bullets-turned-Portkeys.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry landed roughly on the hard vinyl flooring, but he quickly sprang to his feet and ran for the nearest cover that the cavernous room had to offer. The room was too dark for him to immediately make out the specifics of his surroundings and he wasn't about to waste time examining it. He vaulted over the four-foot barricade that encircled the centre of the room and hid behind it, hoping that whoever had been waiting for him had missed his arrival.

One ambush tonight was more than enough for him, so he opened his Mage Sight in a controlled burst, searching for any other sorcerers in the room. His heart skipped a beat when he felt the Mana of two others: the first seemed to be looking down at him from a great height across the hall, but the second was close enough to touch.

Harry, still crouching behind the barricade, whirled around to attack the closer of the two. However, he stopped himself at the last second when he recognised the familiarity of the person's magic. "Terry?" Harry whispered into the gloom. "Is that you?"

"Harry?" Terry's voice came from a much closer position than he'd been expecting. He'd forgotten that they had all been obscured when the Witch-Hunters ambushed them. "Where are we?"

"Good question." He peeked over the barricade to examine their surroundings. The centre of the room was wide and circular. It only contained a hospital gurney and meticulously arranged medical equipment. But instead of being withered by three decades worth of rust and dust, it was shiny and clean as though it saw regular use. This, coupled with the hundreds of surrounding seats that rose around the room behind the barricade, gave Harry a very bad feeling.

"It's an old surgery theatre," Harry told Terry. "Where the public used to come and watch surgical procedures being done first-hand. We must still be in the asylum."

"Is that good or bad?" Terry asked. The fear he felt was clear in his voice.

"It's good that we're all probably still in the same location," Harry said with forced calm. He didn't add that it was bad that their attackers felt comfortable enough keeping their squad so close together. Worse still, was the idea that they were working with at least one sorcerer who was still prowling the upper level.

"Can we make it to the doors?" Terry was still invisible, but Harry felt his arm move as he gestured to the exit at the top of the stairs.

"We're not alone," Harry finally revealed. "There's another sorcerer in here with-" He stopped talking the instant he sensed the incoming Choking Curse. It had been fired at them from on high. They must think that First Year Cadets would be unable to cast nonverbally, Harry thought. While Harry would have risked getting hit by this only to turn it around by attacking nonverbally when his opponent's guard was down in an official duel- or even if he had been alone- he wasn't willing to take that chance with Terry's life on the line.

Still, that was no reason to reveal that he could cast nonverbally just yet. "Protego Horribilis!" The spell was not just blocked but rebounded on its caster as well. Even though their attacker must have used Mage Sight to attack them so accurately in their disillusioned states, Harry still snatched Terry's arm and moved them around to the other side of the lecture hall.

"Piertotum Locomotor! Engorgio! Fianto Duri!" A dozen chairs ripped themselves out from the floors they'd been bolted to before expanding five times their original size and climbing on top of one another to create a wall of unbreakable protection between them and their attacker. Reaching into his mokeskin pouch, Harry withdrew his kindjal before handing it to his friend. "Use this to open the doors and find the others."

Terry seemed to understand the real reason for this order and made to protest, but Harry had already darted off to cross wands with their unforeseen adversary. Harry would readily admit that Terry was the most naturally talented sorcerer out of all of them, but he was also the worst duellist. He'd never exhibited the intuition necessary to be a great fighter and now was not the time to test his mettle.

Upon Harry's command, one of the animated chairs remained separate from the others. It was now flung at their attacker's location at high velocity. This was merely for two things that Harry needed to do in quick succession: the first was to hide his summoning and shrinking of the surgical equipment- which slid right into the pouch he'd opened for it on his utility belt- and the second was to provide cover while he caught a ride to get to his opponent's level.

Harry leapt onto the hospital gurney. "Ascendio! Locomotor!" The gurney shot thirty feet into the air before zooming directly at the sorcerer still hidden in the darkness with Harry crouched atop it. Leaping off at the last second and rolling onto the viewing balcony that encircled the highest level of the theatre, he watched as the gurney was blown to bits, and the fire from the explosion illuminated his enemy for just a moment.

Their attacker wore flowing black robes, a fluid mercury mask in the shape of a skull and dragonhide armour that was emblazoned with a bright emerald Dark Mark across his torso.

A Death Eater was working with the Witch-Hunters.

What the hell is going on?

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

To say that Terry felt conflicted when Harry darted off would be an understatement.

A part of him was angry that one of his friends felt he needed to be protected, but another felt grateful that he wasn't expected to fight. This internal conflict left him feeling angrier, both at himself for his cowardice and at Harry, even though he knew his friend was only doing this to get them both out alive.

He thought back on last year when he'd put both his friends and the entire school through so much turmoil during the Chamber of Secrets fiasco. To this day he had little idea of what had gone on in the chamber itself. On the few occasions where he'd worked up the nerve to ask for details, both Anthony and Harry clammed up before giving the same general notes of their experiences.

His imagination went right to his friends suffering the worst things possible to save him and he was left awash in guilt.

"That's why you want to enlist?" Captain Solace had asked. "Because you feel indebted to them?"

The two of them had spoken regularly during his Personal Training hours. Unlike his friends who'd already pushed themselves for months or even longer to expand their Mana Reserves and skills, Terry had not, so he was left exhausted each day after an embarrassingly short amount of time.

"I need to catch up to them." Terry panted from where he lay on the grass. "I want to help and support them the same way they've done for me." He didn't add how he thought his friends were all going to die on the paths they had chosen or how he would never forgive himself if he didn't do all that he could to prevent that reality from coming to pass.

"You've been studying healing spells on your own, haven't you?" Solace asked.

Terry frowned slightly, wondering if he was about to get into trouble. "Er… yes?"

Solace hummed. "Number One, you're heads and soldiers above the others when it comes to Poisons and Antidotes."

"Yes." He responded quicker now, wondering if he was about to get a pep talk from their harsh taskmaster of a captain.

"So why don't you leave the flashy spells to the others and focus on your strengths?" Solace had said this slowly, as though she were speaking to a simpleton, but he had been too intrigued to care.

Terry snapped back into the present when he heard an explosion come from overhead. Peeking out over the barricade, he saw the flames from the explosion illuminate their attacker's Death Eater uniform as he fired back on Harry's still invisible form.

Terry redid his own Disillusionment Charm and hurried for the exit at the opposite side of the hall from the fight.

Captain Solace was right. It was long past time for him to utilise his strengths.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It only took a moment for Harry to regret flinging a hospital gurney at his enemy. It only served to give him weapons to send right back at him.

The Death Eater twirled his wand and what little remained of the gurney was transfigured into knives that were flung in Harry's direction. As he was still in a crouch from his landing, Harry was forced to abandon his initial idea of withholding his nonverbal casting ability as the knives left him with no time to breathe much less speak.

Evanesco! The blades vanished into thin air without a word, but if the Death Eater was surprised by this, he didn't show it. Instead, he conjured a swarm of bees to attack Harry from the darkness and only the tangible Mana from their creation forewarned him. As if this wasn't enough, he also used them as a distraction to fire several Rupturing Curses directly at Harry's torso.

In an instant, Harry had gone from the offensive to on the back foot. It took all his skill in evading, sensing and vanishing just to stay uninjured. His opponent was too fast. His body's movements were enhanced to a speed that Harry couldn't match, a level that he'd only seen on display at the Duelling World Cup.

The idea that he was facing a world-class duellist filled him with sudden dread.

Before he knew it, he was trapped in a pincer between two conjured tigers, one that was blocking the exit and the other the stairs. All the while, the Death Eater continued to fire spells at him from his original position and forced Harry backwards towards the wall as he blocked and parried them all. Desperate, Harry waited until he sensed a spell that he thought he could withstand, a Bone-Breaker Curse, before lashing out at the tiger that was blocking the exit.

Sectumsempra! The tiger was sliced in half, vertically right down the middle, but in the brief instance of white-hot pain where the Bone-Breaker Curse splintered his left ribcage, Harry hesitated in making his escape and the Death Eater took full advantage of that. The tiger he'd killed immediately swapped places with the intact tiger that had been guarding the stairs.

A Switching Spell, Harry blearily realised. His training helped him ignore the agony his left side was in as he struggled to hold the tiger at bay while blocking incoming spells from his attacker. Before the Death Eater could realise how close he was to victory, if he hadn't already, Harry decided to attempt something drastic.

Still hidden underneath his Cloak, Harry first redirected one of the incoming Severing Curses at the tiger. Then he crouched and pointed his wand at the ceiling and then the wall behind him. Confringo! Aeris! The Explosion Curse impacted the ceiling above the Death Eater's head, deviating his attention for the first time.

The Air-Bullet Spell was launched with such force that it cracked the wall behind him, launching Harry forwards and over the seats towards the centre of the room, but he started falling in less than a second. Spongify! Gritting his teeth long before impact, Harry still let out a strangled cry of pain when his broken ribs punished him for bouncing off the elastic ground in the centre of the room. He rebounded hard enough to fly over the seats, towards the upper level and the exit Terry had escaped through.

Brackium Emendo! Harry believed it must have been a world record, as he healed his ribs just before reaching the exit, only to break them again a split second later as he slammed into the closed doors with enough force to break them off their hinges. Skidding across the dirty vinyl floor, he only came to a stop once he hit the wall on the other side of the corridor. He lay there for a moment amongst the splinters, feeling sorry for himself.

"Brackium Emendo!" Harry wheezed, blinking back tears. Again, his ribs were healed but phantom pain lingered.

Even though all he wanted to do was lie there, he forced himself to his feet and began running down the long, dark corridor. He could already hear the Death Eater forcefully removing the rubble Harry had buried him under, and he suddenly felt angry and disappointed with himself.

Either carrying your shield, or on it.

The motto of the Auror Corps. It meant that cowardice was unacceptable for an Auror. He was meant to face his enemy head on and whether or not he survived to tell the tale was inconsequential. You will return home either carrying your shield or carried upon it. In the past, he would do all he could to survive; that was all he needed to do until help arrived. But there was no last-minute rescue coming this time.

He was the rescue.

Harry skidded to a stop as he rounded the corner. That thought finally forced him to remember what had happened to Jeremy earlier that evening. He had been captured and killed by the bizarre Witch-Hunter/Death Eater alliance that their squad had stumbled upon, and he likely wasn't the only one. He remembered what Solace had said to him only a couple of hours earlier:

We're just extensions of the Magister's will. He is the one who protects both worlds. Harry, if you're going to put on that red cloak, you need to live your life that way as well.

If there was even one other person being held hostage here, it was Harry's duty to save them. Swearing under his breath, he was just starting to think of a plan that would end up with both the potential hostages and himself walking away with minimal injuries when his communication mirror began to vibrate in his belt.

"Go back the other way!" Terry hissed the moment Harry opened the compact mirror.

"What? Why?" Harry began to scan his surroundings, wondering if he had stumbled into a second trap, but what Terry said next was even worse.

"I need you to lead him-" That was all Harry heard as a deafening explosion- twice as large as the one he had caused- made him jump and lose a grip on the mirror. Harry watched it fall to the ground in slow motion, and despite his attempts to prevent its inevitable fate by catching it with his free hand and feet, it shattered on the ground.

Harry stared at the reflective pieces for a moment in dull horror- even though he could sense the Death Eater finally exit what remained of the surgery theatre- as he couldn't believe the impossible position Terry had just put him in. He could either do the sensible thing and try to lead the Death Eater away from Terry, or he could decide to trust him and whatever plan he had come up with.

I'm starting to miss the days when I didn't have any friends, Harry thought as he ran back around the corner towards the Death Eater.

He was still hidden underneath his Invisibility Cloak though, he wasn't crazy.

Avis! Oppugno! A murder of crows was conjured out of thin air and attacked the Death Eater in a swarm of feathers, beaks and talons. Of course, while this wasn't enough to incapacitate or even slow him down, it was enough to obscure his vision so that he didn't see a chunk of debris float free of the pile and fly over his head.

Knowing that Terry needed him to lead the Death Eater in the other direction for whatever reason, Harry allowed his hood to slip, which brought his body back into full visibility. Even though it was his desired result, when the Death Eater's head snapped up and looked right at him, Harry felt his heart stop beating for a moment.

When the Death Eater shot an Expulsion Curse at the chunk of the wall he was flying on, Harry leapt forward at the last second and the concussive blast was enough to send him flying twenty feet down the corridor. However, while the corridor's ceiling was high, it wasn't high enough to contain the trajectory of his unwilling flight.

Spongify! Spongify! Harry first softened the ceiling to prevent the impact from creating any more injuries, but when he bounced towards the vinyl floor, he was forced to use it again. The result left him pinballing his way up and down the corridor, scrambling to make it around the corner before his attacker could undo the Softening Charms and follow.

Harry felt his stomach drop when he saw Terry wasn't there waiting as he'd expected, but just as he began to despair at his mistranslation of his friend's cut-off instructions, he heard a "Keep moving!" hissed at him from above. Hearing footsteps rapidly approaching from behind, Harry didn't hang about to ask why. He ran forward as quickly as he could down the corridor.

Which turned him into the bait that Terry needed.

The Death Eater had been so focused on Harry's fleeing form that he failed to notice the large plastic mop bucket floating above his head.

"ARGH!" It was the first noise the Death Eater had let out since the attack began. It made Harry whirl around before he could make the next corner, as he was afraid that the noise might have come from Terry. But it hadn't.

There, standing where his opponent had been a second ago, was a giant bipedal reptile in Death Eater robes.

Harry didn't hesitate. "Stupefy!" The red jet of light caught their attacker quite easily in the side as he was too busy struggling with his new tail to worry about incoming attacks. He fell to the ground with a massive thud worthy of his new weight, and Harry hurried back to relieve him of his wand and any other weapons he might be carrying.

"Scale Solution?" Harry asked as the smaller boy untethered himself from the harness he'd likely transfigured from whatever the abandoned asylum had to offer.

"Yeah, I've been trying to find the time to work on a one-step antidote and thought a boring New Year's Eve shift would be the perfect time for it." Terry chuckled as he helped Harry go through the Death Eater's utility belt. "Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be the busiest night of the year."

"That was good work." Harry complimented while they dumped the now bound, silenced and disillusioned Death Eater in the same cupboard Terry had found the mop bucket in.

"Thanks for trusting me." Terry grinned. "I didn't even get to tell you the whole plan."

"I didn't need to hear it. I had complete faith in you," Harry said sincerely.

Terry snorted. "Sure, you did."

Leaving the Death Eater in the locked cupboard, Harry and Terry ran down the corridor to find and aid the rest of their squad.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

As he'd been using Portkeys for as long as he could remember, Anthony was practised enough to land on his feet even after being forcibly transported to wherever the Witch-Hunters had sent him. As he caught a glimpse of the clear night sky, he initially believed that he hadn't been transported at all. That belief was corrected when he glanced around and saw that he was now standing on the roof of the asylum.

Along with two other people.

Their Disillusionment Charms must have failed during the ambush; even in the dark, he could spot Michael's blonde hair some thirty feet away. Unlike Anthony, Michael hadn't grown up with Portkeys, and the unexpected journey had left him on his back. He turned to examine the roof's other occupant, wondering if they were friend or foe, but they quickly made that obvious to him.

"Protego!" Anthony bellowed, too rattled to even consider nonverbal casting when he saw the eerie green spell that was shot right at Michael. Fortunately, his fears of the infamous Killing Curse being used proved wrong as his Shield Charm was able to bring it to a halt. For a terrible moment, he believed that he and Michael had been Portkeyed directly to You-Know-Who, perhaps in some kind of mix-up with the Portkey that had caught Harry, but his relief was short-lived.

The still unidentified attacker had shot a second spell in the shadow of the first. Michael screamed in agony; strips of skin were torn from his left forearm and he was sent flying off the edge of the roof.

"Michael!" Anthony screamed, but he didn't have time to do much else for his friend as the attacker turned his attention to him. It was only when the figure turned to face him- and his features were briefly illuminated by a second green jet of light- did Anthony recognise him.

Elias Torrington. Member of the Knights of Walpurgis. Azkaban escapee. Lieutenant of Antonin Dolohov.

Why is he unmasked? A distant part of Anthony wondered. You-Know-Who only trusts his Acolytes to operate unmasked. Under normal circumstances, the idea of facing an Acolyte alone- even a newly minted one- would have been enough to make him feel faint.

"One down." The potential Acolyte taunted.

Anthony knew what an Auror should do in this situation: they would inquire into the reason behind this attack- the plot that involved a dead teenage wizard and an alliance with the Witch-Hunters- all while using the questioning as a distraction while he called in reinforcements.

But that's the exact opposite of what he did.

"Sectumsempra!" Anthony spat, slashing his wand wildly at the Death Eater. He hated Death Eaters with every fibre of his being, so he likely would've struggled to act rationally when coming face to face with one even under the best of circumstances.

But this wasn't the best of circumstances. His team was scattered to who knows where and one of his best friends had just been thrown off a three-story building. It was a wonder he hadn't started foaming at the mouth.

Elias blocked it with a Shield Charm- nonverbal of course- and retaliated with a spell of his own. Perhaps it was the anger that was clouding his judgement, but instead of dodging like he had been trained, Anthony decided to block with a shield of his own.

Which turned out to be his worst decision of the night.

His shield shattered upon impact against the spell and Anthony was sent skidding back across the gravel on the roof's surface towards the edge. He immediately felt uncomfortably warm despite the freezing December night, and he broke out into a sweat as a fever came over him.

"It's a Blood-Boiling Curse, boy." Elias chuckled, his Texan twang thick in Anthony's ears. "You can fight me or the curse, but you can't do both."

"Yeah? Just watch me." Despite his bravado, Anthony knew that he was right. His anger had been enough of a cloud over his judgement, but this new feverish pain was already eating away at his senses and reflexes rendering him practically defenceless. Everything he'd learned from Joan, Marcus and Captain Solace was forgotten as he struggled to remain standing.

This is nothing compared to the Cruciatus, Anthony reminded himself. If I can survive that, I can survive anything.

He ignored the dark thought that told him that he didn't have Harry to come and save him this time around.

Elias sent another spell his way, a Nightmare Hex, and learning from his previous mistake he defended himself with an Anti-Martial Shield Charm. While that spell was halted, the second nearly struck him dead in the face, but he ducked at the last possible moment.

It went on like that for a while. Anthony was so focused he wouldn't have been able to say if he fought for thirty minutes or thirty seconds. All he knew was the motion of their one-sided duel: Elias continued his attack with increasing power while Anthony blocked or dodged depending on whether he recognised the spell that was heading his way or not.

However, Anthony knew his time was running out. Either Elias would get bored with toying with his food, or he would be completely incapacitated by the curse that was sending fire through his veins. Already the sweat was streaming from his forehead and into his eyes, impairing his vision and almost getting him killed with a few close calls.

Finally, the dreaded moment arrived. He was in too much pain to focus on what Elias was saying, but Anthony could just about make out the mocking curve of his lips as he likely said something goading or derogatory when it happened.

Anthony went to cast a Shield Charm, but nothing happened.

He froze, taken off guard by his dwindling reserves. While he'd noticed his defence getting weaker, he hadn't felt the familiar gnawing pain that accompanied Mana-depletion. Why would he? The Blood-Boiling Curse had sent his entire nervous system out of whack.

Anthony tried to move out of the way, but it was too late. The sickly yellow spell caught him right in the throat and Anthony felt large, phantom hands enclose his neck and begin to squeeze.

The Choking Curse.

Already weak from the duel and the curse that he was already suffering under, Anthony was quick to fall to his knees. His hands shot to his throat as if to protect himself from the intangible grip it was under.

"Well, that wasn't as much fun as I would have hoped." Elias sounded winded but disappointed. "My first duel with an Auror in fourteen years and this is what I get? I suppose it's my fault for anticipating a challenge from a child." He shrugged. "Oh, well. I suppose that's a lesson in managing expectations." Elias pointed his wand at the kneeling boy. "Sectumsempra!"

Anthony wished he could shut his eyes, not wanting to see the end come for him, but they remained wide open and bulging as he involuntarily struggled for air. It was a good thing too, or else he would have missed his timely rescue.

A stocky form skidded into place squarely between him and the incoming Severing Curse and all Anthony could do was watch as they took on the Death Eater for him.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

One moment Michael had been in the asylum courtyard, the next he was on the roof and the one after that he was flung from the said roof before he could even climb to his feet.

The spell he'd been hit with was mostly blocked by the enchanted uniform he wore, but it still skinned his left arm. Somehow, even over his scream, he heard Anthony's voice shout his name desperately as he fell back towards the courtyard's flagstones.

The sound of the fear in his friend's voice left Michael awash with self-loathing. Despite all the promises he'd made to himself and all the hard work he'd put in over the last year, he was still incapable of holding his own.

After his family practically dissolved overnight, Michael swore that he would begin to take care of himself and rely less on others. He'd failed of course. He had gotten swept up in the Fallen Sun's plot to assassinate Harry and had been nothing more than a hostage for his friend to come and rescue.

Worse, he'd come face to face with his mother not long after that. Despite all the defiant things he'd imagined saying to her, Michael had just stood frozen in her presence, beyond terrified. Michael wasn't sure what she would have done to him if he'd been alone that day, but he never had to find out. His friends had rescued him once again.

Despite being injured and scared, Harry, Anthony and Terry stood tall against one of the Twelve Acolytes to protect him.

It left him conflicted. On the one hand, his friends had shown him more loyalty at that moment than his family ever had, as they had been ready to die to protect him. On the other, he'd been nothing more than a dead weight to them. Again. Why they would even bother protecting someone as useless as him, he would never know.

"Normally, I would say it's a good thing to be so protective over your comrades." Captain Solace had said. She had asked him to stay behind after their first Emergency Healing session. "But I think you're overcompensating for something."

Michael barely managed to prevent himself from snapping at her, but when she permitted him to speak, he said, "You hit Ha-Number Four," he corrected himself, "with a curse! You broke his ribs! How else was I supposed to react?" He asked loudly. After a moment, he quietly added, "Captain."

Solace didn't exact immediate punishment on him for his impertinence as he'd expected. Instead, her expression softened somewhat. "I had two Cadet Squads when I was your age," she said rather randomly. "I lost the first when a mission went wrong, and it left me overprotective of the second. It's a habit I've never been able to shake."

Michael wondered what this had to do with anything, but he kept his mouth firmly shut. He didn't think he could get away with speaking out of turn for a second time.

Solace explained what she meant. "I know all about the Fallen Sun ambush and the confrontation you and the others had with your mother." Michael stiffened but she ignored that. "Your friends were injured but you were not." He said nothing. "There's also the fact that when she tried to make contact with you, your friends leapt to your defence."

How much detail did the others go into during their interrogations? Michael wondered.

"You're trying to prove you can do the same things they can, aren't you?" Solace asked knowingly. "My first squad all fought bravely and somehow, I- the most worthless of the bunch- was the only one to make it out alive. I did whatever I could from then on to ensure the safety of everyone I went on to work with-"

"It's not like that!" Michael blurted out. "Captain." He added lamely.

Solace paused, surprised. "It's not?"

Michael folded his arms in an attempt to resist wringing his hands. "I don't want to be dead weight anymore." Solace raised an eyebrow, so he elaborated. "I've lost count of all the times Harry saved my life. Each time I was practically useless compared to him. Anthony and Terry proved they're made of the same stuff back on that bridge, but I just keep freezing up."

The Troll. The Forbidden Forest. The Rogues' Pub. The bridge over the canal.

Each time he'd frozen on the spot, only coming to life when Harry snapped him out of it. Captain Solace was right in how he overcompensated though. He tried to make up for his cowardice in situations where it mattered by acting tough in situations where it didn't.

After the Troll incident, he'd gone out of his way to pick fights with students who were even the slightest bit rude to Harry, even though he recognised it did nothing but embarrass the other boy. After almost dying in the Forbidden Forest, he hid his fear behind anger and took it out on Harry.

Whichever way he looked at it, Michael had always known that he was nothing but dead weight to his friends and had tried to cover it up from the very start.

Solace saw right through him. "It's perfectly normal to feel terrified." Michael's head had fallen to examine his boots but shot right back up when she said this. "Anyone who isn't afraid of being hurt or killed is either an idiot or unbalanced." She smiled at him now, and it made her seem so much younger. "You and I are even more alike than I thought."

"Really?" Michael asked wondering how she had arrived at such a conclusion.

"Really." She nodded. "My fear for my own life and the lives of my new team impaired my work enough that my squadmates wanted me discharged, but my captain helped me work through it. He helped me realise that my fear of losing more people could overcome my fear of death."

"What?" Michael gasped.

Solace hummed in a way that told him she was being completely serious. "Tell me, Number Two, what scares you more? Injury? Death? Or watching someone die because you hesitated?"

Michael hadn't known the answer then, but he did now.

Rolling over as he fell from the roof, Michael pointed his wand- his damned larch wood wand- at the rapidly approaching ground. "Spongify! Pavimovere!" A tall column of earth shot out from the ground before he could hit it and as it rose through the air, Michael sprang from its softened surface as though it were a trampoline.

With the speed he'd been falling at, Michael had enough momentum to shoot right back up to the roof even before the still-rising column of earth could make it, and he hit its gravel-strewn surface in a roll. Ignoring the pain from his still injured arm, Michael shot to his feet expecting to see Anthony in dire straits.

Instead, Anthony appeared to be holding his own against the enemy, despite the heavy layer of sweat that gleamed upon his face due to the spellfire. Michael hesitated, his earlier adrenaline dulled as he told himself that he didn't want to compromise Anthony by jumping into the middle of his duel, but he knew that was just an excuse.

He'd grown used to living with regrets over the last couple of years, and it didn't seem all that bad now that he was fighting for his life. However, when Anthony fell to his knees after being hit with a sickly yellow curse, Michael felt a weight come over him.

It's a Choking Curse, but it could have been anything, Michael realised. I'm just standing here, afraid, and Anthony could've died.

Michael ignored everything as he hurried forward, both his hesitation and the fact that their attacker was a maskless Death Eater (An Acolyte? Here? Now?) and placed himself squarely between Anthony and the incoming Severing Curse.

"Protego Horribilis!" Michael felt the spell's impact on his shield like a physical blow, but he held his ground.

"You're still alive?" The Death Eater sounded bewildered, as though Michael had done something bizarre. "I guess I'll just have-" Michael never did find out what he'd been about to say, as he chose that moment to attack.

"Accio! Expulso!" The column of earth had stopped rising when it reached the same level as the roof. It had been floating there the entire time, but now Michael summoned it towards him, through the Death Eater. He must have either sensed it or was tipped off by the lack of spellfire from his wand as he turned to vanish it, but when his back was turned Michael fired an Expulsion Curse right at it.

The Death Eater was either capable of Mage Sight or had impeccable instincts. He quickly turned and redirected Michael's spell off the roof and out of sight. However, he'd learned his lesson and kept his mouth shut, as he immediately began to unleash a bombardment of spells that were meant to kill.

But Michael held his ground.

"Protego! Pavimovere! Depulso! Protego Horribilis!" Michael stood tall throughout it all, driven by an almost instinctual need to protect. No matter what the Death Eater threw at him, he either shielded against it or banished away. But the one thing he didn't do was dodge. If even one of the spells got past him and hit Anthony, then all of this was for nothing.

His world shrank during the onslaught. Both the rest of his team and the overall mission were forgotten. He was only aware of the enemy and the comrade he needed to safeguard.

I'll never hesitate again, Michael vowed. I won't return to being a dead weight. I'll take whatever they throw at me and stay standing; a shield my friends shelter behind.

Michael didn't know it yet, but his extreme fixation on defending him had given Anthony the opening he needed to land his attack.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Michael's sudden reappearance couldn't have come at a better time.

Now that Anthony finally had a second, he managed to counter both the Choking and Blood-Boiling Curses he'd been hit with and heal the damage that they had left behind. By the time he was done, he looked up from his kneeling position to see Michael locked in combat against Elias, while he was still gasping for breath.

Michael looked terrible despite not having moved an inch in his steadfast defence of Anthony. His enchanted uniform was in tatters and blood was beginning to pool at his feet from where a Severing Curse- perhaps a few of them by the looks of it- had managed to nick him. It was obvious why he hadn't dodged any of them, and it left Anthony torn between guilt and rage.

Pathetic, Anthony condemned himself. On your hands and knees while Michael takes your blows for you. Father would be more ashamed of you than he already is.

It was obvious that Michael wasn't feeling any of it. Whether he was trapped in a trance or displaying some kind of hysterical strength, Anthony wasn't sure. All he could see of his friend was his firm defensive stance and straight back.

Anthony clambered to his feet, struggling to hold in the anger that had almost got him killed before Michael's timely arrival. He knew that he was going to have to rein himself in if he wanted to end this and save them both.

"I want to make something clear between us right now so there aren't any mistakes made afterwards." Captain Solace had pulled him aside after their lessons were done on their first day, having told the others that she would be supervising him first for Personal Training. "If you ever try to run after Vincent Lancer on your own again, I'll have you discharged, no matter what Commander Boot has to say about it."

Anthony swallowed, not expecting her to have known about that. When she permitted him to speak, he quickly promised, "I won't do it again, Captain. I know better now."

Solace raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And if Lancer's location was to fall into your lap? You'd do nothing?"

"I'll tell you." Anthony reasoned.

"And if I give that intel over to the Commander for another squad to handle?" Her voice was innocent, but her aim in provoking him was obvious.

It nearly worked too. "If that's what you want," he said stiffly. "I won't do anything."

Solace let out a puff of air that sounded almost like a chuckle. "You're a terrible liar, Number Three." She gestured around them to the small rocky quarry she'd led him to. "Don't worry, I'll teach you how to rein yourself in here."

And so began his lessons in fire conjuration.

Digging deep for what little Mana remained in him, Anthony quickly darted around Michael's defiant stance as Captain Solace's words rang in his ears.

Fire conjuration works best when feeling passionate emotions, and none are better than rage. He remembered everything about that first Personal Training session, right down to the solemn tenor of her voice. But using it properly is like trying to balance a Quaffle on a knife's edge. You must feel enraged enough to burn through everything in your path, but cognizant enough to direct the flames accurately.

When it came to elemental spells, Anthony naturally favoured fire, but he'd never been able to get the balance of emotions and mindfulness right before. His flames were always too weak and easily defended against, or too strong and an immediate danger to everyone present including himself.

But he knew he was in the right mindset now.

Between Michael's injured state, his still missing squadmates and the fact that Elias, a Death Eater, was trying to kill them was more than enough to help him keep the necessary balance. He wanted to protect Michael, but he also wanted to destroy Elias Torrington at the same time.

Elias' frustration was obvious; Michael was standing tall despite having been blown away so easily earlier. His fixation meant that he didn't see Anthony darting out from around his friend with his wand pointing right at his centre mass, bellowing the incantation of the most powerful spell in his arsenal.

"Igniotempus!" For the briefest of instances, the freezing winter air in front of the two Cadets warped and rippled in a heat haze before igniting into a raging firestorm that overtook the roof of the asylum. Anthony wasn't sure if the Death Eater had even been caught by his attack as he couldn't see or hear anything but the roaring flames that had set the asylum ablaze.

Anthony knew he should be concerned with the amount of damage his fire could cause, but he had more pressing matters on his hands. Quickly pulling out two vials from his utility belt, the first a Girding Potion and the latter a Blood-Replenishing Potion, Anthony chugged the former before forcing the latter into Michael's mouth.

"Drink!" Anthony ordered, raising his voice to be heard over the roaring flames. He pushed Michael down to the ground so he could begin healing his wounds. "Vulnera Sanentur! Vulnera Sanentur! Vulnera Sanentur!" His emotions had settled after he had conjured the fire, as though he'd let out all his anger into that one spell, which meant that he was calm enough to close all of Michael's wounds.

"Drink this!" Anthony handed him his second and last Girding Potion; Aurors were only permitted to carry two at any time due to health risks. "You'll need your strength."

Michael took the potion without a word. They both knew that a small army of Witch-Hunters stood between them and their squadmates. "Death Eaters and Witch-Hunters working together," Michael finally said as he climbed to his feet. "What is the world coming to?"

Anthony eyed him as he too got to his feet. Michael had never been this calm after an intense situation before. He seemed different now, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "I hate to admit it, but I didn't quite think this through." He gestured to fire that was quickly destroying the building they were standing atop of.

Michael was thinking the same thing as he pulled out his communication mirror. "Henry James Potter!" He paled when after a few moments the mirror remained just that. Anthony was right there along with him. Harry always answered mirror calls promptly as he was in the habit of carrying his around with him. He was just prepared like that. "Trevor Boot!"

They both sighed in relief when Terry immediately answered his mirror. "You both alright?"

Anthony nodded. "Yeah, but Harry's not answering his mirror-"

"I'm right here." Harry's steady voice came through, but he remained out of sight. "It broke in a fight we had against a Death Eater."

"Wait, wait, wait." Terry was visibly annoyed. "You tried to call Harry before me?"

Anthony rolled his eyes. "You don't answer as reliably as him."

"Anthony, did you set fire to the building?" Harry asked but didn't wait for an answer. "Because that makes this next part more difficult."

Terry spoke before he could ask why. "Witch-Hunters are guarding the basement. Harry can sense Captain Solace and another powerful person down there, but he says there's a bunch of other weaker people as well."

"Hostages." Michael hissed. "Like that Jeremy guy."

"Make your way down to the basement," Harry instructed. "If you happen to join us, I won't complain, but it'll be better if you go around the east side so we can attack the Hunters from both ends-"

"-because it'll decrease the odds of them circling around and shooting us in the back." Anthony agreed. "It's as good a plan as any. See you in a minute." The mirror turned back to normal.

"What are we waiting for?" Michael asked jauntily. Before Anthony could point out that the stairs were now on fire as well, the other boy leapt from the roof.

Ignoring his good sense, Anthony followed after him.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Alexandra realised what happened the moment she felt the impact of the enchanted bullets. As the Portkey forcibly transported her away from her Cadets, she was momentarily overcome with that old familiar fear of outliving another squad.

Forcing herself to ignore the dark memories that threatened to overwhelm her, Alexandra landed on her feet, immediately on guard for whatever trap the Witch-Hunters had sent them to. She felt her stomach drop when she realised that she had arrived on her own, which meant her Cadets were likely in the hands of those who meant them harm.

Focus, she told herself. You're of no use to them dead. She examined her surroundings more carefully, though what she found did little to settle her strayed nerves.

She had been sent to a dark, dank basement. Considering that the stone and mortar were identical to Acacia Asylum's exterior, she guessed she hadn't travelled all that far. Outdated hospital equipment was scattered here and there and the small windows near the ceiling were boarded up, but everything else in the basement had no business being here.

The basement had been divided in two by the massive, glass cages that lined the walls, leaving only a thin metal walkway in the middle. To her left were at least two dozen men, women and children. The hospital gowns they wore were identical to the one Jeremy had on when he died. She could tell that they were Muggles, as they revealed no indication that they could see her. They were in distress, sobbing or sitting in wide-eyed silence, but they still offered quiet comfort to each other despite their surroundings.

Beneath her fear and anger, she admired them for their strength.

In comparison to this display of humanity, the denizens of the right cage were eerily indifferent, both to their companions and to their circumstances. Just like the Muggles to her left, they were just as diverse in age, gender and ethnicity, but they all shared the same emptiness. Some were standing, others sitting and a few were lying on their backs, clearly dead.

Alexandra's grip tightened on her wand. She recognised the signs of a recently Kissed sorcerer. But why hadn't they turned into Dementors?

"It's the lack of emotion that gave it away, isn't it?" A disturbingly familiar voice asked. She immediately turned to face it, reprimanding herself for becoming so distracted. "But no, they were not the victims of a Dementor. Trust me on that." He stepped around the left cage where the exit was half hidden, and she got her first good look at him in almost fifteen years.

When Alexandra first saw his face, she thought she'd fallen into an old nightmare, but then he stepped under the weak fluorescent light. While the burly frame and long face were still the same, the waxy yellow skin and grey hair let her know that Azkaban had left its mark upon him.

He's no longer the fighter he once was, Alexandra told herself. Just as I am no longer thirteen.

However, while Alexandra implicitly understood that things were not as they once were, no one seemed to have informed Dolohov. "You came here alone?" He asked, eyebrows raised. "Against me? I'm insulted." He was as arrogant now as he'd been fifteen years ago when she and her first squad had stumbled upon a meeting of his.

This is good. Alexandra reasoned as she finally calmed down. If he thinks I came here alone then he isn't communicating with his allies in real time.

Whatever spy they had in the hotel warned them of their arrival, but they either hadn't gone into detail or didn't have enough time to do so. She could only hope her Cadets were able to take full advantage of that crack in their defence.

"What is this?" She asked, gesturing to the people trapped in the cages.

"You noticed their condition, haven't you?" He gestured to the cage of the indifferent. "But I reiterate: no Dementor was involved in this." He smiled as though expecting her to put the pieces together, but she remained stubbornly quiet. While she could guess that it had something to do with their souls, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

Like most criminals, Dolohov was itching to tell someone about his endeavours as long as he thought it couldn't blow back on him. He was planning on killing her here, so why not let her in on what he was up to before the deed was done? Alexandra would exploit this to hear the plan in its entirety, right from the monster's mouth.

Dolohov let out a frustrated little sigh when she failed to answer him. "Their souls, Auror. I've extracted their souls." He paused then as though he expected to be met with outrage, but Alexandra forced herself to not react, and he continued after a brief pause. "Our souls are our source of magic in its entirety. It is where our intentions are formed, our emotions are born and where our Mana is created. So, what do you think will happen if you extract it in its purest essence and insert it into another?"

Alexandra couldn't stop herself as she glanced at the anguished Muggles. "Tell me you didn't," she said lowly. "Not even you could be so depraved."

Dolohov chuckled as he finally got the reaction he'd been looking for. "I was doing it in reverse before my imprisonment." He confided happily. "The Dark Lord wished for more Mana to be readily available, for both himself and his most trusted disciples, but I saw a more noble destiny for Muggles than to be used as sustenance for my former master's will."

Alexandra's eyebrows furrowed at the term "former master". As far as she was aware, no one ever left You-Know-Who's service after entering it. "Why have the Witch-Hunters allied themselves to you?"

Dolohov looked confused. "Didn't I just explain that? I'm on the precipice of creating a method that could make sorcerers out of Muggles! Why wouldn't they ally themselves with me?"

"You can't be that daft." Alexandra was surprised that she had to point it out. "As soon as you give them what they want, they'll dispose of you."

"One doesn't become powerful overnight!" Dolohov chuckled. "I'm their best source for magical tutelage! Yes," he nodded when he caught a glimpse of the comprehension that flickered across her face. "I will create and train a personal army. If you Aurors or the Dark Lord dispose of them before they become a threat, then I will simply turn around and create more." His smile turned dark. "I don't know if you've noticed, but there's an overabundance of Muggles for me to take for my own. Unlike the majority of our kind, I will ensure that they put the gift of magic to good use."

Alexandra had heard enough. With a burst of speed that pushed her body to its limits, she fired the most powerful Thunderbolt Spell she could in what little time she had. Without the necessary time to gather charge, it wasn't as powerful as she would have liked, but it was enough to send Dolohov through the wall.

Without hesitation, she cast an Unbreakable Charm on each cage before raising her wand above her head and bringing it crashing down. "SEISIMOS!"

And the very earth came alive at her command.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry quickly understood the Witch-Hunters' need for larger numbers. Without the element of surprise on their side, they were rather ineffective against a well-trained pair of wizards.

While Terry protected them from the never-ending hail gunfire with his Shield Charm, Harry picked them off one by one with Confundus Charms and transfigurations. While he wasn't cruel enough to have them turn their guns on each other, Harry amused himself by creating confusion amongst their ranks. Every so often, one of them would drop their weapons and launch themselves at their comrades screaming, "He's a witch!"

Sometimes, you needed to make your own fun.

Things only got worse for the Hunters when Michael and Anthony began attacking them from the other side. Now that they were trapped in their pincer movement, the boys took the opportunity to vent their frustrations over their ambush. Their attacks became a lot less about reaching their goal and a lot more about humiliating the ones who'd attacked them in the first place.

Heads were transfigured into insects, bowel movements were forced, and pus-filled boils appeared in uncomfortable places. By the time they arrived at the stairs leading to the basement, only two Hunters remained.

Harry raised an eyebrow as they shakily levelled their rifles at his chest. "Really?"

After a brief standoff, the Hunter to the left dropped his gun and raised his hands in surrender. His partner was utterly gobsmacked. "Really?" The first looked as though he was about to explain himself before Anthony took action.

"Mobilicorpus!" The first Hunter was lifted into the air and thrown at his partner who was knocked clean off the top step and fell down the staircase. Anthony was not done, as he levitated the Hunter after his partner and proceeded to beat them both into unconsciousness by slamming them into each other over and over again.

"Is this necessary?" Terry asked, without sounding at all concerned with the men's pained cries.

"Hark who's talking." Michael snorted. "Didn't you make a man knock himself out with his own rifle?"

"Yeah, but he was shooting at me." Terry waved at Anthony who was checking the pair for signs of consciousness before slamming them into each other again after seeing movement. "This is just excessive."

"He has a point." Harry sighed. "Anthony, stop messing around. We need to help-" He stopped talking as the ground beneath them trembled and seemed to roll outward from the basement door like a wave of water.

Earthquake Spell, Harry instinctively recognised even though he'd only seen Nicolas use it once before. Formae! Fianto Duri! Formae! Spongify!

He got the spells off in the nick of time. A massive ball of earth enclosed the four before the ceiling could fall onto their heads and was quickly charmed unbreakable. Then he conjured a second, smaller ball of earth within the first and softened it so they were safe within its hold.

"Harry, what-?!" He didn't hear what Anthony said next. Even within their dark little hold, the boys were sent tumbling around like clothes in a dryer- bouncing off both the elastic earth and each other- and the sound from being so close to the earthquake's epicentre was deafening.

When they finally came to a stop, Harry lit his wand. "Michael, if I direct you to where Captain Solace is, do you think you can tunnel us out of here?"

Michael was pale, but whether that was from fear or the white wandlight, Harry was unsure. After a brief moment, his face hardened, and he nodded. "Good. I need you two stabilising the tunnel around us," he told Terry and Anthony. "The Tunnelling Spell is only meant for one person so it might collapse around us as we follow."

It was slow going, but they all had their jobs and they managed to make it through it to the surface in a matter of minutes and without a single injury. As they examined their surroundings, Harry couldn't believe that they had managed to walk away from having a building dropped on top of them with only a few bruises to show for it.

They were in the middle of a veritable mountain of brick, glass, metal and wood, which was all that remained of Acacia Asylum. In the wake of the thundering crash of the building's collapse, they were left in eerie silence as the noise of the destruction slowly faded away.

Pausing only to make sure that they avoided any sharp debris, the boys collapsed on the ground for a well-earned break. Harry had lost track of time when they'd been digging themselves out, as this entire mission had felt a lot longer than it probably was, but midnight might have come and gone already.

What a way to ring in the new year, Harry thought bitterly as he caught his breath. Utilising Mage Sight to zero in on Solace's location was enough to exhaust him after the night they'd had.

That thought made him sit up sharply and he began to scan the area for the missing member of their squad. "Guys, where's Captain Solace?"

His friends were as exhausted as he was, perhaps even more so, but they still snapped to attention when they realised they weren't out of the woods just yet. "You said that she was in the basement, right?" Anthony asked. When Harry nodded, his breathing quickened. "If she's the one that set off that earthquake, do you think…?" He trailed off, not wanting to say it.

"It was a sacrificial move?" Michael finished. His hand traced one of the many cuts along his uniform before clenching into a fist.

The four looked nervously at each other, but Harry assumed control of the situation before they could lose themselves to speculation. "Terry, get away from the Anti-Apparition Barrier and call in the cavalry. The Commander needs to know what happened here tonight. Get him here as soon as possible."

Terry got to his feet. "What are you lot going to do?"

"Search for Captain Solace." Harry avoided the word "save" as he didn't want to make any promises about what condition she might be in.

When Terry ran off towards the distant gate, the other three began to shift through the rubble. "Harry, why don't you just use Mage Sight to find her?" Anthony asked.

Harry grimaced. "I don't know why, but her Mana feels like it's everywhere. It's near the surface, but-" he cut himself off when the ground began to rumble once more.

"Oh, not again." Michael groaned as they all widened their stances to keep from falling over. However, the second quake was much weaker and much more localised than the first. It took a second for them to understand. It wasn't caused by another earthquake, it was caused by someone digging themselves out from under the remains of the asylum.

There, thirty feet from where they were standing, a tendril of bright emerald energy burst from the rubble and blew the debris burying them in every direction. Harry raised his wand to protect himself and his friends from the flying wreckage, but they were encased in the emerald cloak of energy before he could do so.

As he watched the rubble impact the translucent coat of Mana, Harry recognised who it belonged to. "Captain Solace," he said aloud for Anthony and Michael's benefit. "She protected us."

"We can see that." Anthony jerked his chin towards the epicentre of the emerald power that was still emanating outward. As they watched, Captain Solace emerged unscathed from beneath the rubble, rising to her feet as she caught her breath. Without any movement from her, two other tendrils of Mana were still emerging from her body and connected her to something beneath the rubble. It took Harry a second to realise that she was pulling something out.

"No way," Michael muttered. His awe was shared by the other two as a pair of massive glass enclosures were lifted out of the asylum's wreckage without a single crack upon them. The dozens of people within were terrified but completely unharmed by the experience, and Captain Solace was gasping for breath, but she was no worse for wear.

All those times we got close to beating her during combat training must have been fake, Harry finally realised. She could have taken us down whenever she wanted.

For some reason, this realisation only made him admire her even more.

Suddenly, the ground began to rumble again. Solace withdrew her Mana Cloak from both the cages and her Cadets, quickly recalling back into herself in time to conjure a Shield Charm big enough to protect them all against the onslaught of rubble-turned-lava that was launched in their direction. The physical threat was prevented by her defence, but the sheer heat was dangerous enough to stir Harry into action before their clothes (or worse, their wands) could spontaneously combust.

"Calor Vade!" Harry could almost feel the struggle as his Flame-Freezing Charm fought to prevent their environment from catching flame. It was a struggle he only won when Anthony and Michael added their charms to his own.

Finally, the caster revealed himself as he floated to the surface after the torrent of lava that had almost incinerated them. Harry recognised Antonin Dolohov from the wanted posters that had been everywhere after the Azkaban breakout, but he was more unsettled by the solid block of Goblin Silver he was flying upon.

It was ludicrously large for such an expensive metal, roughly the size of a double-decker bus, with a dark tunnel in its centre large enough for an adult male to fit into if he was lying down. What caught his attention wasn't how expensive it was, but the Runic Complex that was etched onto its surface. The induvial runes numbered in the tens of thousands, but even from this distance Harry could tell that it was for something perverse.

Anthony had always been better a Runes than he was, and he managed to decipher the Artifice's purpose before Harry could. "Souls," he murmured. "It extracts souls." Michael hissed and Harry took a better look at the cages. His earlier assessment had been only half right before, as only one cageful of hostages was terrified while the other seemed oddly peaceful about their current dilemma.

Dolohov spoke directly to Solace, as he was either unaware or unconcerned with the boys' presence. "I want you to know that you would have never landed a blow upon me if I were not distracted." He brushed the front of his robes even though they were unmarked. "I still had time to insulate myself even after protecting my masterpiece."

Solace's attention diverted away from Dolohov and towards the Artifice he was standing upon. "That's the Artifice that extracts souls from sorcerers to bestow functional Mana to Muggles?" She asked loudly.

Dolohov's brow furrowed. "Why would you ask what you already know?"

Solace smirked. "I'm just bringing my Cadets up to speed."

Dolohov's eyes widened and he bellowed, "Protego Totalum!" His powerful Shield Charm managed to encase his Artifice just before three individual Exploding Curses could make contact with it. While it remained undamaged, Dolohov was forced to leap from its surface as he was both repelled by his defence and the concussive force of the ensuing explosion.

The Cadets kept up the attack, firing a second and then a third wave of Explosion Curses, but Protego Totalum wasn't called The Total Defence without good reason. It withstood the onslaught of their attack without cracking, and while Harry would normally go after the caster in situations like these- as the sorcerer was always the weak point of any spell or enchantment- he knew that he didn't stand a chance against an Acolyte.

Fortunately for them, Solace did.

The boys watched as their captain took advantage of Dolohov's leap. She attacked him while he was still in mid-air, her Severing Curse likely to tear him in two as it was aimed for his midriff, but a small figure darted forward and took the curse for him.

"No!" Solace gasped as the little boy fell to the ground, bleeding heavily.

"Yes." Dolohov smiled once he'd landed safely and raised his arms like a gymnast. "I did say that I had almost perfected the method, didn't I?" Skittering out from the dark were almost two dozen young boys and girls, all wearing the same loose grey pyjamas as their fallen ally. "For reasons I am not yet sure of, the process only reliably works on young children. But don't worry," his smile was cruel now, "the results are still unstable. No subject survives longer than three weeks, so you only cut the lad's life short by that much."

For a moment, Solace looked as though she was about to fly off the handle. But then she took a deep breath and straightened her back. "Not one more." Her voice was quiet, but every word was clear.

Dolohov still seemed confused though. "What?"

"You won't harm anyone else, ever again." Captain Solace vowed. "You die tonight." With that, she attacked the Acolyte with a ferocity her Cadets had never seen from her before.

Harry was determined to not make a liar out of her. "Depulso Maxima!" The children had been about to throw themselves into the middle of the deadly duel, but they were caught by his wide-ranging Banishing Charm and were flung back into the darkness.

Harry took the brief window to give out orders. "Michael, heal and restrain that kid," he indicated the child that was quickly dying in a pool of his blood. Michael darted off. "Anthony, break through that shield and destroy that Artifice."

"It's Goblin Silver," Anthony warned. "It repels or absorbs the properties of anything that can damage it."

"Goblins must've used fire to melt it down in the first place, right?" Harry asked rhetorically as he moved to meet the already returning children. "You just have to make your fire hot enough."

He darted around Solace and Dolohov's duel. The former was attacking with electric-coated weapons and the latter was fighting back with Artifices that were enchanted on the fly. Harry was amazed at the sheer speed of their spells and bodies. If he or the other Cadets tried to jump in the middle of that fight to assist Solace, they would only end up being a hindrance to her.

The only way he could help was by making sure nothing distracted her.

Harry braced himself when the children got within fighting distance of him, but when they diverted around him to protect Dolohov, he realised he was going to have to be forceful with them if he wanted to keep them away from Solace.

"Brachiabindo!" The children were caught in an invisible web of cords. When Harry leapt upon a particularly large chunk of fractured stone and enchanted it to fly away, they were pulled behind him like a netful of fish behind a fisherman's trawler.

Landing far enough away that the heat from Anthony's intense firestorm was overtaken by the winter air, Harry examined the children he'd caught. They were tiny little things, the oldest no more than eight, but their twisted expressions and wretched growling made them seem inhuman. He watched as they scrambled over each other in an attempt to escape the invisible net he'd put them in, drooling from around their bared teeth as they did so. Before he could even decide what to do with them, he was struck in the back by a steel bar protruding from a block of broken concrete.

It was his uniform that saved him; the enchanted garb prevented him from being run through. When he turned around to see where it had come from, he was met with a dozen other projectiles being thrown his way. "Ventus!" He yelled, and a powerful gust of wind blew away the rubble that had been launched at him.

Confused when he sensed no one else in the vicinity, Harry turned back around only to find the pile of captured children now on fire. "Delumen!" The fire was quickly extinguished, and the children seemed relatively unharmed, but Harry was wary of them now. He hadn't been sure what to believe when Solace had announced Dolohov's plan, but he was unable to deny the truth now that he'd seen it with his own eyes.

These kids just used accidental magic.

They weren't calming down, so Harry incapacitated them before they could launch another round of attacks. Muffliato! Depressi Tonituro! With his ears safely muffled, Harry summoned a roaring thunderclap and directed it at the pile of tangled children who were immediately stunned by the deafening noise.

The moment they were done clawing away at each other, Harry lifted the Muffling Charm. He stunned each of them, one at a time, before jogging back to the rest of his squad.

Anthony was standing at a safe distance from the Artifice, but still close enough for Harry to be overwhelmed by the heat of his raging fire as he arrived next to him. He'd been joined by Michael, who was using carefully applied air conjuration spells to fan the fire to an even greater temperature.

But while the Shield Charm encasing it had long since been broken, the Artifice itself appeared unaffected by the heat.

"Still no luck?" Harry asked, even though he could see the results of their efforts with his own eyes.

"What do you think?" Anthony snapped, sweat dripping from his brow.

"I managed to save the kid." Michael pointed out and Anthony growled at him. Harry glanced back to where the boy had been lying before. He was stunned and restrained, but fully healed.

"Your job was a little easier than mine." Anthony spat out.

"I'm just saying, we all had our assignments and you're the only one who didn't manage to complete his on time-" Michael started.

"Michael," Harry said firmly. "Drop it." He understood that the other boy was only trying to lighten the tense mood but now was not the time. Judging by his slumped shoulders, he understood that. Harry turned his attention to the duel still happening in the distance, as the two powerful sorcerers fought to kill each other.

Captain Solace had drawn Dolohov away from both his Artifice and the hostages, while also pushing him further away from the exits where he could apparate to safety. Perhaps Dolohov was afraid of damaging his Artifice or his brainwashed victims, or maybe he'd simply gotten rusty after over a decade in Azkaban, but it was clear that Solace had the edge over him.

As Harry watched, Dolohov waved his wand at her to no apparent result, but Solace seemed to know what the threat was. She flicked her wand, enlarging the minuscule daggers he'd sent flying at her into visibility before encasing them in scarlet flames and flinging them right back at him.

Even though Harry didn't recognise the spell, Dolohov certainly did. He took care to avoid it rather than vanish it, which proved to be a mistake as it set the heap of rubble behind him alight with blood-red fire.

Now that he was left with nowhere to run, Solace pressed forward by stabbing her wand towards the earth, and a geyser of molten lava shot out and curved towards Dolohov. With his back to the red fire and his front threatened with lava, Harry thought the duel was all but done. He didn't have any idea how Dolohov could escape this. If he vanished the lava and shot forward to escape the encroaching red fire, he would be blindly running into whatever else Solace had up her sleeve.

However, Dolohov had more options in his arsenal than Harry did.

Just as Solace had done before, scarlet Mana burst from his body in a dozen solid tendrils, half of which shielded him from the lava while the other swept away the crimson flames. The cursed fire quickly crept up the tendril towards Dolohov's body, but the tendril unattached itself from him and allowed the fire to harmlessly burn itself out as it fell to the ground.

Solace wasn't as surprised as Harry was, but she was kept distracted by Dolohov's counterattack. Raising his wand to the sky, he brought it back down to earth, roaring, "METEORUM!"

"Great Sage!" Michael gasped, and he wasn't the only one.

The sky had been empty of everything but stars one second and the next it was filled with red-hot meteors, their flames roaring as they crashed down to earth.

Harry, fearing death from above like any reasonable mammal, reacted instinctively. "Defodio! Spongify! Formae!" The rubble beneath their feet was gouged out of existence and they fell onto a softened pile of debris far below the surface, but that wasn't enough for him. A dome of earth sprang out from the ground and encased them from all flaming projectiles.

Even barricaded behind this protection, Harry and his friends felt the repeated tremors of the meteors impacting the earth outside. He was afraid that his meagre protections wouldn't be nearly enough to save them.

They remained hidden in that dark earthen dome for a minute as the earth around them shook. It was only when there were thirty seconds without another impact did they feel safe enough to emerge from their cocoon.

"She's alive," Harry reassured his friends the moment he sensed Solace's Mana, although he had no idea how she'd protected herself from such an onslaught. However, when they climbed out of their little hidey-hole, he realised he might have spoken too soon.

The battleground had already looked like a warzone from the building's destruction, but with the meteors pockmarking the ground and setting fire to what little remained of the asylum, it now looked as though the earth itself had been scorched.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

"No," Harry whispered. "No, no, no!"

Solace's emerald Mana Cloak had reappeared and was now wrapped around both glass enclosures, protecting them from the meteors and their fallout. Another tendril stretched out of sight into the darkness. Harry didn't need to use Mage Sight to know that she'd also protected the netful of children he'd restrained earlier.

However, it was obvious that Dolohov had used this as a distraction for an attempted escape. The two were now much nearer to his Artifice, which was still glowing red from Anthony's firestorm. He had tried to reach his Artifice while Solace was otherwise occupied, and she must've realised this as she now stood between him and his goal.

The two were now grappling with one another. Even though the burly Dolohov should have bested the diminutive Solace in a test of sheer strength, the two appeared locked in a wrestler's hold as they each moved their feet trying to unbalance the other.

That was until they turned enough for the Cadets to observe them from the side.

The uniform around Solace's midriff was torn open and she was gushing blood from a gaping, visceral wound.

Harry was frozen in horror. He could see parts of the captain that were never meant to make contact with open air, and he knew the sight had left the others in a similar state of shock. However, as Solace jerked Dolohov back around and almost tipped him over, he realised she was still fighting.

Move, Harry thought desperately, trying to shake his body out of its shock. Move you coward! Back her up!

He started forward- stumbling before running- knowing that he would have to be closer to land an accurate attack as the two kept shifting positions as they grappled. The worst thing he could do right now was stun Solace instead of the Death Eater she was fighting.

Dolohov must have sensed him coming as a razor-sharp tendril of red energy shot out of his body directly towards Harry's neck, but Solace still had the presence of mind to be aware of her Cadets' positions. A tendril of her own wrapped around Dolohov's and pulled it back in the nick of time, as it had been inches away from slicing Harry's throat.

Harry was thrown back as the two released what had to be the last of their power. As they grappled physically on the ground, their emerald and scarlet energies took form around and above the tangible bodies they were born from in a battle that was identical to the one happening beneath them.

For a few moments, Harry watched open-mouthed as the two Mana Cloaks took on deliberate shapes, shifting into clear avatars: an emerald bear emanated from Solace and a scarlet octopus from Dolohov. The two giant animals were locked in the same fierce struggle as the sorcerers on the ground.

But then it ended. The glowing energies dissipated as the two released the last of their magic, or so he thought. Solace's eyes remained fixed on Dolohov's in steely determination despite the blood that was dribbling from her lips. "You won't harm anyone else, ever again." She repeated the vow. "You die tonight." It sounded more like a promise to herself than it did a threat to him, but she immediately followed it by relaxing in Dolohov's hold.

For one terrible second, Harry believed that she had simply fallen unconscious. But then he recalled a particularly painful hand-to-hand combat session during basic training, and he knew what she was about to do even before he watched her do it.

Solace rag dolled in Dolohov's grip, dropping backwards, and when his physical effort was no longer met with equal force, he went flying forward. Solace had dropped down to the ground and when Dolohov was sent careening over her, she stabbed her wand right into his gut, screaming out one last desperate spell:

"BEULLA IGNIS!"

A wicked blade made of crimson fire shot out from her wand, through Dolohov's torso and out his back in an explosive burst. Harry saw the Death Eater's mouth open in a silent scream as a hole was blown right through the centre of his body.

"She did it." Harry breathed. "She won!"

In the distance, he could hear the sound of running boot-clad feet as Terry finally arrived with reinforcements, but they were no longer necessary. The threat was neutralised. Captain Solace had dealt with it all by herself.

"Over here!" Michael shouted as Anthony fired a red firework into the sky. "We've got a casualty over here!"

Harry had been frustrated with himself a minute ago for failing to do the one thing Solace had asked of him, but now he felt only relief. There would be time to apologise to her later, but for now, he needed to stabilise her before the real medics arrived.

But as he hurried forward, Harry failed to keep his guard up.

He was struck across the face by a scarlet tendril, which was enough to throw him to the ground in his careless state. He was only spared an immediate death because Dolohov was more interested in saving himself than he was in killing The Boy-Who-Lived.

He should have known that the Acolyte wasn't down for the count as the crimson fire had failed to spread across his body. Instead, he had encased it in layers of Mana, digging deep into reserves that shouldn't have existed to protect what parts of his body hadn't already been damaged by the flames.

Harry didn't know where he got the strength from, especially as there was a clear hole the size of a Galleon blown right through his body, but he stumbled to his feet and ran for his Artifice before the Aurors could even make it around the nearest pile of rubble and debris.

Swatting aside Anthony and Michael's Stunning Spells as though they were nothing more than irritating flies, Dolohov slapped his hand against the Artifice's still scalding surface. The last thing they heard from him before the apparent Portkey activated was his anguished scream as he unintentionally burned his palm.

Still dazed from the blow, Harry crawled over to where Solace still lay, her breathing now slowed and gargled by the blood in her throat. "Anapneo!" He lowered his wand as her breathing became easier and set about healing her torn centre, but he already knew he couldn't do it alone. He could smell the sharp sting of stomach acid and could see several of her organs were ruptured. "I need help over here!" He wasn't even sure who he was directing that towards, but Michael and Anthony hurried forward anyway and joined his efforts.

After a few moments in which they struggled to both heal her organs and stem the bleeding, the Aurors finally arrived. They were a dozen strong with Commander Boot at their head and Terry at his side. The two hurried forward to help while the others swept the perimeter for any lingering threat.

Harry allowed himself to slump backwards when the Commander took over the healing process while Terry assisted- hoping they would have better luck- and this brought him closer to Captain Solace's head. He heard her mumbling something he couldn't make out.

"Save your strength, Captain," Harry told her gently. "We're going to get you to the Healers so they can work their magic on you." But Solace didn't seem to hear him, and her eyes grew distant as she stared into the middle distance, whispering something unintelligible. Harry drew closer and finally caught what she was saying.

"…Felica," she muttered. "Tell Felicia I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave her behind like this."

Blinking back tears of frustration that were born from his impotence, Harry nodded firmly at her. "I'll let her know," he vowed hoarsely, even though he had no idea who Felicia was. "I swear I will."

Solace heard him that time and what little tension was left in her body now relaxed. "This is… who… I am," she said with her last breath. "…I lived… being… who I am."

As the new year dawned, the light in her eyes dimmed, and Captain Alexandra Solace knew no more.

Author's Notes:

The chapter title comes from the first episode of Constantine. I thought it fit well here.

The Mana Cloak/Mana Avatar thing was inspired by the Kane Chronicles. In this AU, particularly powerful duellists- the top percentage of world-class duellists- can summon Avatars that take the shape of their Patronus and encase them in armour. The size depends on the amount of power they put into it.

I've been hinting at this power for a while now, with Sages like Dumbledore, Akingbade and Flamel emitting energy when they lose control of themselves. Harry even saw Voldemort use his own Avatar to destroy his family home after killing his extended family during his vision last book.

This is the first display of just how destructive really powerful wizards can be, but Solace was nowhere near her full potential (she was twenty-eight and had room to grow) and Dolohov was known as the weakest of the Acolytes, so a clash between Sages- especially the most powerful Sages- will be much more devastating.

Elias- the guy Anthony burnt to ash- was not an Acolyte. He wasn't wearing a mask because he decided to support Dolohov rather than Voldemort. The masked Death Eater Harry and Terry fought and inadvertently left to die his son, Elijah.

I tried to make the power ranking clear in this chapter, but to clarify: young and healthy Solace is a little more powerful than post-Azkaban Dolohov (don't forget he was one of the twelve personally trained by Voldemort).

Elijah was a lieutenant in the Knights of Walpurgis- a step below Acolyte- which was why Harry had so much trouble with him; he would have lost on his own, maybe escaped if he was lucky, but was able to beat him with surprise via Terry.

Elias was once a lieutenant but is now old and weathered by Azkaban. Even so, Anthony and Michael only beat him due to surprise and because he was toying with them. It was his first real-world fight since escaping Azkaban, so they got lucky.

I'm not sure if anyone else really finds power scaling interesting/fun, but it keeps the fights from becoming nonsensical from my perspective.

Also, the crimson flame that Solace conjured was Fiendfyre.

Please review.