As a reminder, you can find MORE of this on my SubStar (dot adult slash KajaWilder), it's posted up past chapter 110 there... And if you guys haven't seen an update in at least a week, please let me know! I have a busy life, and I get distracted and forget things. This story(as well as ZpoW and PTaL) are supposed to be updated WEEKLY!

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Trigger Warnings: Character Death. Nothing you haven't seen before (even someone who dies in canon). But it might hit hard. There's other death too... but bad guys mostly.

Chap. 85: Sunlight

The snow, though it seemed to be leaving as suddenly as it came, still blew in tiny, mirror-like crystals around Hogsmeade when Auror Tonks closed her dictation scroll and turned off the enchantment on the quill. She had been questioning witnesses to the Death Eater's brutal attack one after another, and the stories, by and large, seemed to match up.

That would be for the Forensic Team at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to decide for sure, of course, but Tonks herself considered the reports fairly reliable. Yes, it was true that people tended to exaggerate or misremember small details. The size of an opponent, the color of a person's jacket, or the numbers on a muggle automobile's license plate. Even, sometimes, the number of aggressors at all, or their gender.

Adrenaline did strange things to people, she knew that. Still, when the forty-six witches and wizards that she personally had interviewed, another forty or more that her team had, and the Aurors who had been involved in the fray, herself included, added their own testimony into the mix and it all seemed to match up?

That was pretty damning.

This would not, she hoped, be like the Quidditch World Cup two years previously. That had been an embarrassment for the entire Ministry, and the DMLE especially. Every one of those Death Eaters had walked free. Four of the seven had been captured, and they walked free.

"Until today," Tonks reminded herself, "They walked free until today."

It turned out that many of the attackers had had their masks blown apart, or removed, or vanished, or disintegrated, or some combination thereof, exposing their faces during the conflict. At least three of them were faces she knew, known blood supremacists and Death Eaters. Four had been present and involved at the World Cup, either in the actual levitation of the poor muggle family that night, or in the crowd that had followed along, jeering and laughing.

At the time, Tonks had still been in training. And, mostly due to her mother's encouragement, had almost dropped out of the course in her final year because of it. Her father, a muggleborn solicitor who understood the need for good men and women to protect the rest of the populace, was the one to convince her to stay in the program.

Today almost convinced Tonks that her mother was right. But there were still several dead Death Eaters now. More captured. And this time, with an ex-Auror as the Minister of Magic, it seemed far less likely that any of them would be getting free again. The deceased certainly wouldn't. So as bloody and horrible as the day had been, Nymphadora Tonks had to take a deep breath and remind herself: It was worth it.

Because the Aurors were there, and because (in no small part) Harry Potter had been known to publicly say he would not allow such a travesty again after the attack on King's Cross- because he, and the other students with him, had actively fought Death Eaters, and even Giants...

The people of Hogsmeade had stood up, and fought too. They had largely not cowered in their homes, waiting for the Death Eaters to come for them, or the Aurors to save their families.

Maybe it had been the two murdered lovers at Christmas. Maybe it was the missing students this year- a record high, for Hogwarts, and there were still a couple of months left in the term.

But either way, it seemed the people of the wizarding world had finally had enough. And Tonks had to be grateful. They, the Aurors, could probably have defeated the existing Death Eaters that were taking part in the raid. They had been prepared for it, after all, thanks to Director Bones' timely tip-off from her mysterious informant.

There were six victims. Three women who had been raped, and one man. Three dead, including one of the women. But they had killed or captured twice that number and then some, and Tonks was reasonably sure none of them would ever have the opportunity to do this sort of damage again.

She thanked her last witness, told the spritely old woman thanks for the assistance and the help, and turned to trudge back through the already-melting snow back toward Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Thank you," the old witch said, "We'd'ave been in hard straights wi'out ye."

"Thanks to you," Tonks chuckled weakly, and rubbed the bank of her currently midnight-blue, short-cropped hair, "I feel like we'd have had a really hard time without you all coming to help."

"Can' do less'n the young'ns, can we?" the old witch cackled, "Not up to'em t'save us. Leastaways, it sholdn' be."

"Damned straight," Tonks agreed wholeheartedly, "Anyway, I best be reporting to the boss. Thanks again, Ma'am."

The woman grinned widely, showing off a distinct lack of teeth, then turned to shuffle her way through the snow herself.

Tonks and the two other Junior Aurors that she'd had accompany her under Kingsley's instructions had pulled the witnesses a score of yards away from the carnage, if only to give them a bit of separation from the mess while the investigators went through it, so she had a bit of a walk.

Of course, the tall, dark-skinned Auror was on the far side, but at least warming and drying charms in her boots kept that from being a problem. The weather was improving nicely too, now that the snow had stopped.

As she walked, snippets of what the witnesses said played over and over again in her mind, their words now inscribed on her (supposedly) indestructible recording scroll, "I heard what Harry Potter done down't London on Yule. Against Giants! Fekkin' Death Eater scum, too, and a dragon? I don' care what he's got some harlot-demon. That kid's aright in my book. Saved so many!"

That refrain, and those like it, had been a frequent litany. She knew Harry, of course, and knew the kind of teenage boy he was. Knew, and had actively flirted with him over the summer both of the previous two years she'd known him. It was just so much fun! Now that he was approaching his majority, though, she could see why so many people fancied him.

Not the myth of who he was supposed to be, but who Harry actually was. Even Tonks herself could admit, to herself, a bit of a crush on the young wizard, who was both wiser and more mature than his years suggested... and devilishly handsome, in a roguish way.

Sure, he had a Succubus. The whole Order knew that, and now most of the wizarding world knew too, because it had been in the Daily Prophet and The Quibbler both for several days after the battle at King's Cross. People wanted to know, of course, why such a hero would summon and bind such a 'dark' creature, even while an article right next to it praised the young man for his heroism, especially after the Wizarding World had turned against him so strongly the previous year.

Honestly, Tonks was surprised they'd even allowed that into the paper, but she supposed anything Scrimgeour could do to paint the previous administration in a bad light, he would. Fucking Politics.

To Tonks, a Metamorph herself, she could easily see the appeal that a shapeshifting, otherworldly creature that thrived on sex, passion, and emotions of all sorts would have for a young man. But she also had met Lilith herself, and thought her to be an intelligent, observant (and also fairly wise) woman herself. She had clearly taught Harry a lot, and deliberately, about how to be both a good man, and a good leader.

So she didn't care if Harry had a Succubus, it was clearly a mutually beneficial arrangement from the start, for him to inspire such loyalty in her.

But then, Madame Bones had publicly informed people, in an editorial piece she'd penned herself for the next day, that her brother, who had also been an Auror, had summoned a Succubus himself, and she had been, for a while, a prized member of her brother's family.

That had opened a lot of eyes, and Harry, she was sure, was quite grateful to her boss for taking a lot of the heat off him. It wasn't like Bones had needed to do so, it hadn't served her at all. She'd just done it, Tonks was sure, to help Harry himself.
And in doing so, Bones had probably secured Harry's loyalty in turn. Which, she supposed, could only be a good thing as Amelia Bones was widely considered to be one of 'the good ones' in the Ministry.

"Dead Wankers, or whatever they call 'emselves, in Hogsmeade? No way! Can't 'ave it, won't 'ave it," another man had said, "An' attackin' t'school an' all? No way! Had t'fight 'em, we did. No choice, or t'kids would'a been in more danger'n any reasonable folk should b'comfortable w'it."

Aside from the thick Highland accents many of the Hogsmeade citizens spoke with, Tonks, who had been raised to value life and especially young life as the only child of parents who had difficulty conceiving even her, found the sentiment quite apt.

There really was no choice. Everyone, everyone, needed to fight for their future, and the future of their children, or tyranny would run rampant. It was why she had become an Auror in the first place, to do her part.

The idea of certain dark wizards 'wanking' the 'bones' of Death, well... that was a more private thought that Tonks savored as she reached about the half-way point of her trek. An amusing image, if nothing else, to be a buffer against the darker thoughts that would otherwise run free in her mind.

"I'd sooner let my sheep kill me than some soddin' Death Eater," a young herder had laughed, while one of the Healers St. Mungo's had sent to patch up the wounded wrapped a poultice around his jaw, itself looking to have been beaten in by either a curse or repeated, strong fists, "Fuckers done tried it, mind, but I'm still here, ain't I? They aren't, an' that's what matters. Won't be hurtin' no more folk, I reckon. Leave us good folk in piece t'live our own damned lives."

That, too, was a sentiment Tonks agreed with wholeheartedly.

With any luck, she would be put back on tagging and identifying the last bits of remains that, thankfully, the rest of the team had largely finished. The night was coming on, but at least, for now, a last dazzle of sunlight seemed to warm the day, taking with it even more of the snow.

Summer was definitely coming, at least, after a long, dark winter.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly, "No, we can't go help! Believe me, Colin, I want to as much as anyone- that's my boyfriend- both of them- out there! But we can't! We were specifically ordered by McGonagall to stay here. And it's my job as Prefect- all of our jobs- to keep the rest of you safe, so you can't go out either!"

"But Hermione," the fifth-year cried out, "Our friends in the other Houses! I know there were a bunch of Ravenclaws in the Library, and they'd have to go through the same place Ron said he was headed for, the girl's loo on the second floor!"

"I know," Hermione shouted right back, "You think I don't know my way around the school by now? Ron may have gotten it in his head he can help, somehow, and I'm sure I could too, somehow, but someone has to keep you all safe! Do you think Harry would want everyone else in danger?"

"Then what are we studyin' for?" one of the fourth-years, who had just joined the D.A. this year, shouted back, "Are we learnin' for nothin', or are we learnin' to fight?"

"We are running the D.A. to help you defend yourselves," Hermione growled back loudly, "not to help you get slaughtered, or to run into an unknown situation and get yourselves hurt or killed!"

"Like we did last year?" Lavender asked quietly, from behind Hermione on the right.

"That was different," Hermione replied coolly, "Harry was in danger, and we-"

"Harry is in danger now," Lavender reminded her, the blonde's blue eyes brilliant as she looked into Hermione's, "and we aren't rushing off. But-" she cut off Hermione's no-doubt scathing retort, "she's right. We can't go, we can't help. Not right now. The best thing we can do is follow McGonagall's orders."

"But-!" Colin tried again.

"No buts," Parvati shouted him down, nearly screeching as she stepped up behind Hermione too, and both witches put a hand on her shoulders, "There are no buts here!" Then, in a calmer voice, though her bronze jaw was clenched with barely-restrained emotions, "Harry trusts us to do what's needed to stay alive. Hermione is right, most of us are doing alright in Defense now, thanks to the D.A., but I, for one, am not comfortable rushing into a possible Death Eater attack without some preparation. At the very least."

"We should gather information, then," Lavender added, "Anyone who knows anything, something concrete, not just rumors, raise your hand."

Four hands shot up. Hermione, with both of her roommate's hands on her shoulders providing a calming, reassuring presence, stayed silent. Without knowing it, without speaking about it, Lavender, her boyfriend's Slave, had stepped into the role of supporting her, and helped her regain some semblance of calm. Just like she would for Harry. Parvati was a bit of a surprise, as aside from watching her and her twin give Lavender a rather erotic massage just hours- was it only hours? It seemed like a month or more- ago, they were barely even friends. But her hand flickered- no, it positively glowed with the same soft, green light she and her sister emitted during the massage as she, too, supported Hermione.

Then they started fielding questions, and Hermione's racing mind gradually slowed from a frantic, over-emotional wreck to something more akin to her usual streamlined, but still very rapid thought process.

Nott, it had to be Nott. Malfoy had been gone too long, and both Harry and Lilith had assured them that the Vanishing Cabinet was not a viable route into the school. Further, that any Death Eaters who tried were in for a possibly lethal surprise. But Nott had not been found since he went missing along with Vicky Frobisher, "No," Hermione exhaled, "It can't be... but it is. It's definitely Nott."

How could she not have seen it?

No, she had seen it, what she had just not known was what she was seeing. Right there, on the very steps of the castle where Vicky's body had been smeared over the Yule break. Nott's magical signature, which still lingered in faint traces there. He had been the one, but she had not put it together. She had now known, really, until that exact moment that she could see the magical auras of people in her own memories. Of things in her memories.

Like a certain Tiara, which echoed with the same magic that was contained in Harry's scar.

"That's what they're after," Hermione whispered once more as the planning to send a scouting expedition- or to report to the teachers through the portraits, which seemed safer to Hermione, was planned, "That Tiara is one of Voldemort's Horcruxes."

"Professor!" Harry shouted, as next to him, the aged body of Albus Dumbledore collapsed, the magical prosthetic leg clattering to the ground beside him.

Sirius was there a moment later, and Ron's carapace-covered body slid to his knees at Harry's side right after, with Ginny levitating Lilith at a quick jog right behind. The Succubus was still unconscious, but Harry felt their Bond grow ever so slightly stronger with proximity. Almost unconsciously, even with his wand and a free hand performing the only checks he knew to do for first aid even though Sirius was sure to know more and was doing the same thing, his foot slid toward her body when Ginny set her down and took her own place at Dumbledore's head, cradling it, "He's so cold," the girl whispered.

"Harry," Dumbledore groaned, his body shifting just slightly, before his gnarled, white and freezing hand jerked out and grabbed hold of Harry's with surprising, but trembling strength, "Harry..."

"Yes, Sir? I'm here." His heart was hammering worse now than it was during the actual fight. It couldn't be, not like this, not... not after he'd won.

But Harry knew.

Knew from the bottom of his heart that this was it. Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore, was about to die. And there was nothing any of them could really do.

As if to underscore that, Fawkes appeared directly on the Headmaster's chest, already weeping copious amounts of tears onto Dumbledore's beard and half-bared arm.

It had no effect that he could see, and that was all the proof Harry needed for the last bit of hope in him to die.

"I'm here," he repeated, then twice more, "What- what happened, Sir? How can I help?"

"No... help. Used too much... magic. Too many Portkeys. Into- into the sun. Killed... a student. I... failed."

"You didn't fail, Sir," Ron murmured hoarsely, "You saved hundreds more."

"Th... Thank you, Mr.- Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore forced out, a wane smile flickering over the ashen face, "Harry... Office... desk. Left... top dr- drawer. J- Journal. Ho... Horcrux...es..."

"I understand, Professor. I'll get them. I promise. I'll get him- I'll end it."

"We all will," Ginny whispered.

"I know," Dumbledore smiled, somehow, though his eyes were already glassy.

Sirius' wand fell still, and without looking, Harry could tell he was crying now, too.

"Harry... I believe.. in y... oooh..."

Harry's heart broke. He could only imagine the reaction if the Daily Prophet ever heard Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore's last words.

In another flash of flame, Fawkes was gone. In his place, a single tail-feather, scarlet, orange, and blue at the tip, drifted slowly down onto the old wizard's beard.

All Harry could do was join Sirius, join Ginny, and Ron in silent tears.

Albus Dumbledore was gone.

Severus Snape screamed in rage and agony as he looked at the stump of his left arm. The fire had been so fierce that it had cauterized the limb just above the elbow. So intense that, even for a brief moment, it had ignited and nearly vaporized a full quarter of his old friend and patron, Lucius Malfoy's, manor home. Much of the rest was still burning.

At least he could still see. A great number of the Death Eaters in the upper floors, the ground floor and up, really, had gone blind, possibly permanently, and all in an instant.

Whatever had happened, it was going to be a crippling blow against Voldemort and his movement.

Which really meant that only one person could be behind it. It could have been Harry Potter and his extra-planar whore, he supposed... but probably not.

No, this was the work of Dumbledore. He was the only person Snape could think of with the sheer magical power to do... whatever that was. It was as if the very fires of hell, but far worse than any Fiendfyre even Voldemort could conjure, had appeared in one of the rooms of Malfoy Manor, and then been snuffed out just as quickly.

Which meant either his savior and tormentor had finally decided to take the war seriously, or... or something had gone very, very wrong.

Either way, he had work to do. Since being removed from the school, he had been at Voldemort's side near-constantly, and one of the very few Death Eaters who had refused the more... obscene rewards offered of late.

Frankly, Severus Snape could have used the relief, but he had only ever wanted to be with just one person. The fact that he had been forced by that creature into shagging Dolores Umbridge of all people... No, he had no interest in sex. Not anymore.

Probably not ever.

For now, that was alright. He would be needed at Voldemort's side, to help rebuild his forces, heal the wounded survivors. Perhaps, if possible, restore sight to those whose eyes had been burned away or severely damaged. He counted himself lucky that he, like the Dark Lord, had been deep under the manor and thus shielded from the worst of the catastrophic attack.

Once that was done, then maybe, maybe he would think about planning a bit of revenge on the Potter brat. He already had some idea how to do it. He just had to find the time, and uncover the spells needed.

And he had plenty of both. His own Horcrux, after all, was still safely secured in a location no one else had ever found or would think to look. It was not hidden in any place like Voldemort had hidden his own. And how foolish, to even have more than one! Snape did not want to live forever. He wanted to die, in fact, every single day.

The only reason he lived, and he knew many Gryffindors would crow with laughter to learn the truth of this, was for spite. Spite at Voldemort, for killing his one true love. Spite at Dumbledore, for using him for so long. Spite at Harry Potter, for being his bastard father's child. Spite at Sirius Black, at every student he had ever taught. Spite at the world.

No, he was not ready to die. Could not afford to die, not yet. When he was good and ready, he would probably destroy his own Horcrux, after his enemies were dead and gone. What use, then, would he have for living anyway? A bit of Fiendfyre, cast around the Horcrux and then allowing it to run rampant, perhaps in the Gryffindor Dormitories, while he himself stood within, until his body died and the magic feeding the flames died with him.

Yes, that sounded like a decent and suitably macabre way to go, when it was time.

But he wasn't ready, not yet. Voldemort had to go. Dumbledore had to go. Potter, too. And maybe, just maybe, every idiot student still at the Castle.