This chapter is not a very happy read.

You still remember this is rated M? Okay then.

This one time, I'll have the ANs before the chapter, because they'd take away from the chapter otherwise. If you don't feel like it, just skip them.

AN1, Pairings:

I know you guys are passionate about your favourite pairings, and that's totally cool! You're free to root for them every chapter, you can even complain to me about that total floozie D/A/T/A/H. But there will be chapters exploring every major character in the story, and that does in no way translate to Harry making steaming hot love to everyone I devote a chapter of character progression to. I mean, there'll be Bellatrix chapters and – Jesus! – there'll be chapters about Arcturus... Please don't make this awkward for me.

AN2, Tracey (no spoilers):

Despite mainly starring as Daphne's sidekick during the first year, Tracey IS a member of the main cast of characters. In all honesty, I'm rather amused you honestly expected me to insert a simpleminded comic relief character.

That being said, I can see that her usual goofy attitude is extremely at odds with her behaviour that last chapter, or maybe rather her aggression. I've written quite a few PMs regarding this issue, and I would like to point your attention towards the fact that the last chapter did, as a matter of fact, only display the second genuinely private conversation Tracey has ever shared with Harry (the first one being in ch.9).

Still, even during other times (Tracey's talk with Daphne during Yule; the entirety of ch.14 / Tracey's and Harry's brief conversation near the finale of the first year; middle part ch.21 / Daphne's brief flashes of thoughts regarding her friend on her birthday; near the end ch.27 / or even Tracey's strangely insightful remarks after they get Leo's book; end of ch.36) it becomes rather clear that Tracey is at least as two-faced as Harry. Even Daphne called her out on it (ch.14).

Daphne has so far been a prominent PoV featuring her best friend, and though Harry's perspective on Tracey has always been the most controversial one so far (ch.9 and the recent ch.38), you might be surprised to find that the primary character to feature the most of Tracey has, by far, been Hermione (especially ch.8 and all chapters from 19-25).

Now, thinking about it, you might notice Hermione and Daphne actually have quite a lot in common – or rather, they feature a lot of diametrically opposed character traits.

-Hermione: exhibit a is studious; sometimes comes off as meek; not very good with people; tends to favour approaches of an academic nature and planning in general; extremely uneducated regarding Wizarding Britain (and wishes to learn); and lacks (both mundane and magical) people skills to properly function in pure-blood society (especially at the beginning and mainly because of a lack of knowledge)

-Daphne: exhibit b is a definitely a practical person; rude, outgoing and absurdly emotional; tends to favour direct approaches; well-educated regarding Wizarding Britain (not that she particularly cares); but still rather poorly equipped to function in pure-blood society (mainly because of her conduct and temper)

They're almost like evil twins! (No, they're not.)

Now, what might that have to do with the problem at hand? Well, as I said, both Hermione and Daphne are the characters who interact the most with Tracey, especially during their first year. Just from Leo's comments about Tracey and Harry hiding their true thoughts most of the time (ch. 35) and our previously gathered knowledge about Tracey, however, we can already see that the half-blood Tracey is definitely a lot more Slytherin (and – ironically considering her origin – well-suited to blend well with pure-blood society) than both pure-blood Daphne and Muggle-born Hermione. In light of that, how adequate do you believe either Hermione's or Daphne's perspective are on a player clearly above their level of craftiness? The only thing (except their drastically different connection to Harry) both witches have in common is their disinterest/inability to play the game of thr...politics.

And now full circle!

Is Tracey's behaviour extremely different from most previously given descriptions? Hell, yes!

Remembering that the last episode is from Harry's perspective, is this change in attitude still so very surprising? Hmm...

Does that mean Tracey is actually putting up a show at Hogwarts, which includes misleading Hermione and even Daphne? Yes, and that's exactly the point Harry (last chapter), Leo (35), and even Daphne (14) make.

Honestly, there's a lot more in there, but I only wanted to help all of those who have some trouble coming to terms with this second take on the goofy and approachable ninny.

The third year will, in addition to exploring the Lestranges, actually shed some light on her peculiar behaviour, especially her occasional aggression towards Harry.

A slice of hell

Like mice facing a cat, Harry and Tracey sat transfixed in front of the artificial snow flurry on the screen. Terrifying moments of silence trickled away until another Muggle in a boring, grey suit appeared on screen, stammering about technical difficulties, his frantic eyes darting to something behind the camera every once in a while.

'Er, Harry?' asked Tracey in a voice even more high-pitched than usual.

'Yes?'

'That lightning looked a little bit like...'

'That's what I thought as well.'

'No, they couldn't...Shouldn't they...But the runes!' she stammered insistently. 'We did it, didn't we?! We won!'

Harry didn't answer.

'A-anyway, they shouldn't be able to get down to London that fast, should they?' she said, though Harry wasn't quite sure who she was trying to convince.

'Our library said that Lethifolds latch onto winds when travelling larger distances. They can also literally ride lightning...'

'But even thunderclouds don't move at more than thirty or forty miles per hour!' Tracey babbled with manic defiance.

'Currents in the upper troposphere can easily go far beyond one hundred, though,' elucidated Harry dejectedly.

'But why London!?' cried Tracey, jumping up, her eyes wide with fear. 'If those...no. That can't be the pack from Scotland. Wouldn't they attack Glasgow or Edinburgh even if they were...suddenly...free to move as they pleased...' Despite Harry's earlier doubts about the possibility, Tracey's eyes actually widened even further. 'Salazar, no!'

'Well,' croaked Harry, trying to ignore the feeling of his collar strangling him. 'Everything I've ever read about them warned of their insatiable, voracious nature.'

With a mad cackle of desperation, Tracey collapsed onto the sofa as if all the bones in her body had suddenly vanished. 'London has more than ten times the population of Edinburgh or Glasgow,' she whispered.

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he suddenly sprang up, running over to the cloakroom, grabbing some random black cape.

'Where are you going?' asked Tracey with a note of urgent panic. 'You're not going there, are you?'

For a second, Harry looked over his shoulder. 'Daphne,' he said simply.

Most uncharacteristically, Tracey let loose a stream of malicious cursing. 'I'll come with you.'

'Wait, what?! No! This is dangerous, you can't come with me!'

'Daphne is my best friend,' hissed Tracey, grabbing a cloak of her mum's that made her look even smaller than she really was. 'Are you really going to tell me that I'll have to wait here while you pose at playing prince charming?!'

Harry turned around, drawing his wand. Tracey looked determined, but your average bit of grit wouldn't suffice any longer. 'Have you ever seen a man being torn limb from limb, Tracey?' he inquired casually, his voice smooth. 'Have you ever heard a man plea for release from his suffering; ever heard the wailing of the withering; smelled the stench of death and the dying?'

Tracey took three steps back, looking faintly green. 'N-no... But I'll come with you whatever you say to scare me!'

'Are you prepared to ignore wounded and dying children?'

'W-what?' she asked, now definitely looking sick.

'Tracey, I'm not horsing around. I'm going to Daphne's place, and I'm going to get Ophala, Daphne and Tori out of there – full stop. So, are you prepared to ignore any cry for help, be it magical or Muggle?'

She looked disgusted, sick, but even now he could see the resolute glint in her eyes.

Harry rubbed his eyes in annoyance. 'I'll take you with me on the condition that you'll do as I say, Tracey, whatever I say.'

'Fine!' she snapped back, pulling out her own wand. 'But how do we get there?'

'That can be easily arranged, but first things first. Pull up your hood! I'm not going to be seen with you wandering around the place.' Rummaging in some other cloaks of Mr Davis', Harry soon produced a lighter. With a look of concentration, he brought it over to the coffee table.

'Cranky!' barked Harry to the air, not looking up from the item in his hand when the ancient creature appeared before him half a second later.

'Master Harry called?' asked Cranky without so much as dignifying his surroundings with a glance.

'Has Ophala's family arrived at one of our mansions? Or called?' Harry asked urgently, fingers stroking the lighter.

'Nobody has arrived within the last few hours, Master,' the elf replied evenly.

'I see. Please go back for now and prepare accommodations and...medical necessities. Contact me as soon as you hear from them.'

'At once, Master Harry.' With a low bow, the elf disapparated.

'What are you doing?' asked Tracey curiously, despite the pressing urgency of the situation.

'Be quiet for a second,' replied Harry, trying not to sound impatient as he bent closer over the lighter, eyes squinted. 'I've only done this once, and the distance is a lot bigger this time...'

He closed his eyes and brought his wand towards the little lighter, mumbling under his breath. To her credit, Tracey managed to stay completely silent for the whole four minutes of what must have seemed like inane ramblings. Eventually, he opened his eyes again, scowling in annoyance.

'What?' demanded Tracey.

'A lot of people have raised wards to protect their properties, and Floo is down. They are obviously under the impression there's some kind of...terrorist attack or something. I can't go through them all. We'll have to drop off in Muggle London.'

If Tracey had any questions about how he knew this, she didn't say so. She simply nodded, holding her wand just a little tighter.

'Portus!' He finally tapped the lighter, and it immediately lit up with a cyan hue.

Tracey looked apprehensive. 'Right,' she muttered, looking only mildly surprised at the lighter Harry was now silently levitating. 'All right. Let's do this!'

Harry, the Portkey smoothly revolving above his right hand, held out his left for Tracey to take. 'Let's go.'

Tracey gingerly took his hand, and immediately afterwards, Harry cancelled his spell, and the lighter landed in his palm, just as he subtly tapped his cape with his wand. The moment the metal made contact with his skin, the world turned, compressed, blurred – and with the ensuing jarring whistle, they were gone.

~BLVoD~

Harry landed heavily on the cobbles, and he nearly lost his balance trying to keep Tracey from falling over. The Portkey had been rough, rougher than any Harry had ever ridden, even those all the way into the Outback. Dragging the still wheezing Tracey into the shadow of the base of the ruinous statue, he lifted his wand, his eyes alert and scanning the vicinity.

Thick, biting smoke billowed all over the place, with towers of ash rising like infernal spires above faint glows of red and orange in the distance. Wind howled, assaulting them with greyish snow and the stench of sulphur, and – very occasionally – with the brief, muffled and often terribly warped cries and shouts of some poor sod. Thirty yards was the total extent of anything resembling visibility, except for the extremely prevalent strokes of purple lightning flaring up through the hellish haze – and the fires.

It had been less than fifteen minutes since the interruption of the broadcast, and the place looked like a battlefield of nightmares.

'Where are we?' whispered Tracey, wiping her mouth. Harry was glad that she had the common sense to keep her voice down. 'Weren't we going to London?'

'Hard to recognise, isn't it?' he said bitterly, his eyes resting for a second on the overturned bus that had crashed into a line of standing cars. He thought he could hear whimpering. 'Welcome to Charing Cross,' he said darkly, pointing at the fallen equestrian monument in bronze Tracey was cowering behind.

'No...!' said Tracey in a low voice, her eyes, too, on the wreckage of cars and men.

'We need to get going,' said Harry grimly. With a flick of his wand, he cut two long slices off his dark cape, handing one to Tracey. 'Tie this in front of your mouth and nose. It'll make breathing a bit easier.'

'What now?' asked Tracey in a muffled voice, still fiddling with the fabric.

'First rule: be extremely cautious. And by that I mean you'll hex anyone who approaches us after I call for them to stop. People will be mad with terror. Secondly, we'll try to keep away from any possible shelter to avoid detection and making a scene. That means we'll have to give all shopping centres and public buildings as wide a berth as possible.'

'And subways,' Tracey threw in.

Harry looked at her, surprised. 'And subways,' he concurred. 'From this point forward, don't concern yourself with the Statute of Secrecy. If any Auror should prove mentally deficient enough to try arresting us in this mess, you'll put him out from behind. Understood?'

Tracey gave an obdurate little jerk of her head as a reply.

'Good. And don't call me by name. I'm Enzo, you're...Victoria.'

Tracey groaned. 'Do I really have to trade one Essex girl name for the next?'

'Don't be ridiculous,' said Harry absent-mindedly, on the look-out for any sign of movement in the blizzard. 'You're neither blonde nor do you have quite the- Anyway, let's get going!'

Unaware of Tracey's very pointed glare, Harry grabbed her sleeve, helping her to her feet. 'Come on, this way!'

They had barely made it forty feet when Harry froze. Then, without a warning, he threw himself behind the overturned bus that lay deserted, pulling Tracey down with him. Not far at all and to the west, short bursts of cracks could be heard through the gale. They sounded a bit like firework – except that they weren't.

Without moving an inch and both holding their breath, they waited until the dull bangs and cracks died down, Tracey pressed against his side.

'That's the embassies,' hissed Tracey into his ear. 'Couldn't you have dropped us off further south? This area is usually swarming with police and bigwigs!'

'Couldn't,' whispered Harry, peering into the haze. 'All the wards are running interference, but Charing Cross is an emergency site. Let's cross the river further down. The car ways should be empty by now.'

'You mean the road bridges?' asked Tracey, looking around nervously.

But Harry didn't answer.

'Har-, I mean, Enzo?'

Hesitantly, Tracey took a peek around Harry's other side. A very small arm, smaller even than Tracey's, could be seen protruding from under the coachwork.

'Come on.' Gruffly, Harry dragged Tracey, who was gawking at the arm as if she'd never seen one in her entire life, away from the bus.

Still crouched down, they dashed from cover to cover. The icy wind felt like needles on their skin, soughing through the cracks of the ruinous, crashed cars, the eerie wailing of the dead machines their loyal companion.

They had to take detours, a lot of them; fierce dust devils were hurling street signs, glass and sundry other deadly projectiles across their route, and at other times, Harry didn't want to wander near particularly important places, like the Muggle government.

They finally spotted the first living beings around the Victoria Tower Gardens – a giant murder of crows; hundreds and hundreds of crows, a swarm like nothing Harry had ever seen before. Like an ever-changing ball of black feathers, they hovered over the park, croaking excitedly, a few dozen lunging at something on the ground every other second. Harry had a very good idea what enraptured them so.

'Are those people?' asked Tracey, her small hands gripping his arm.

'Not anymore,' replied Harry neutrally.

'B-but, the Lethifolds would've...they would've...'

'Get a grip!' said Harry, shaking her out of it. 'I believe the pack flew from north to south over the city. Those are...were Muggles. They probably died from cardiac arrests.'

'Cardiac arrest?'

'No Occlumency, remember? That pack is strong enough to overwhelm a squad of Aurors! What do you think will happen to Muggles exposed to their mind attacks?!'

'S-something like that, perhaps?' whispered Tracey in an even more pronounced tone of horror, pointing to the city-side of the park. There, a lone man was shuffling across the street. It might have seemed like a scene of wonder – but it was all wrong, so terrifyingly wrong. The man was still clutching his briefcase, still wearing his navy blue suit, as he slowly hobbled towards the next door, leaving a deep trail in the snow behind. But his entire second arm was missing, as something seemed to have taken a savage bite out of his shoulder. Without slowing down, he crashed against the wooden entrance, eliciting a brief scream from within the small restaurant. The man in the suit gave a jerk, as if suddenly awake, and with blood curdling ferocity, he started hammering against the door with beastly brutality, completely disregarding his increasingly bloody knuckle.

Harry watched coldly from across the park.

'We need to do something!' hissed Tracey as the man, to the obvious horror of those who had barricaded themselves within, finally struck through the door with his bloody stump.

Harry just stared.

'Please!' begged Tracey, tightening her hold on his arm.

With a sigh, Harry carefully aimed his wand.

His Severing Charm flew two hundred yards across the park, hitting the man in the neck. He – it – gave one final shudder, and then collapsed like a building, joint per joint.

'I-Is he-'

'He was dead already. No mind dwelt within that body. Come on, we're getting closer.'

Grimly, they proceeded further south, flitting from cover to cover, heads down.

Glimpsing around a corner, Harry and Tracey both jumped when they saw the people next to the street, sitting on benches, still leaning against buildings, huddled in groups – all of them almost lovingly wrapped in a thin blanket of grey snow. With bizarre curiosity, Harry nudged a policewoman, but the young lady, despite her breath condensing in the frosty air, just stared straight ahead.

'This is horrible!' whispered Tracey.

Harry couldn't help nodding. But wherever the minds of these people now dwelt, it probably was a better place than London City.

'Ever been to Pompeii?' asked Harry in a hoarse voice as they finally reached Vauxhall Bridge, ignoring the burning in his throat. The entire construction was packed with all manner of Muggle transportation devices – machines still running – drivers and passengers alike still staring ahead at the traffic. Some gaped endlessly into the thunderous sky, and a few rare individuals were actually in the process of leaving their vehicles with a look of fear. But they were all petrified by what they had witnessed, all unmoving, all – Harry had little doubt – irrecoverable.

'Please don't joke about this!'

Similar to black shadows in a world of grey, they scurried across the bridge towards the source of the lightning storm that bombarded the larger buildings like divine retribution. The road was alive with the humming of the machines. The people, however, were frozen in family disputes, frozen watching the sky, frozen complaining about the traffic – but all of them seemed like they could spring up any second, either to pounce on them or to continue their inconsequential lives as if nothing had happened. Harry wasn't quite sure which he would've found more disturbing.

There were dozens of fires on this side of the Thames, and sirens angrily devoured every sound like the glorious trumpets of Judgement Day, be it footsteps, desperate cries for help, or even the occasional flame-cut building tumbling down.

Acrimoniously, Harry tightened the fastening of his cape, holding his freezing hand in front of his eyes to navigate the snowstorm. About one mile further south-west, a peculiar round gap split the sky. But when Tracey pointed this out, maybe in the hope of finally receiving some good news, Harry's face only darkened further.

'What?' asked Tracey, obviously worried by his lack of positive reaction.

'Let's go over there, and then you'll see.'

Head ducked, Harry crept across the street, hiding under the ruins of some still smouldering shop that creaked with every howling flurry rattling the derelict building. A pack of ravens perched on top of a flagpole next to the singed hoarding, the cheery advertisement still displaying its proud promise of a beautiful day.

When Tracey caught up, he pointed at the gap in the clouds. And yet there was no gap. Instead, a treacherously weedy-looking landspout swept across the city, picking up trash, bodies and smaller cars alike, hurling it all a hundred feet into the air.

'Still want to go there?' asked Harry succinctly.

Tracey shook her head. The biggest of the ravens gave a bellowing croak and took flight, grazing Harry's head with its massive wings. Startled, Harry was about to turn around when a hand fell heavily on his shoulder.

'And vhat do we haf here?'

From the corner of his eye, he could see a man in a heavy leather coat shimmering into view, his dishwater blond hair a tangled mess, curly moustache missing a bit of its tip.

'Death and devastation everyvhere, and who do ve find? A Black.'

The man gripped him by the scruff of his neck, lifting him as easily as Harry might a book. His other shovel-like hand closed painfully around his right wrist until, with a yell, Harry relinquished hold of his wand.

'Who's your chum, Black?' the Auror asked, towering over Tracey like a terror bird, Harry still struggling in his grip.

'Vik-Vikt-Argh!' Harry cried out as the man pinned his arms behind his back, his paw easily holding both of Harry's wrists.

'Both hands vhere I can see them, Viktor! Unless you don't mind me breaking your friend's arms too.'

'Sir, are...are you an Auror? My name isn't really Viktor, that's just something Black made me say in case we got caught!' said Tracey, offering her wand to the man, her head lowered apologetically.

'Are you insane?!' yelled Harry.

'Oho? Maybe I should take you to the colonel as vell!' The man reached down to snatch the presented wand. 'Vhat's your name, boy?'

'It's not Viktor...' muttered Tracey with an insecure grin as the giant's parched hand closed around her wand. '...because I'm a girl, you twat!' With devilish precision and all her might, Tracey viciously kicked the momentarily distracted man between his legs. A sickening crunch, a yelping gurgle, and the man sank to his knees. Harry, cradling both of his arms, back-pedalled over the snow-covered pavement, away to not get squashed by two hundred pounds of falling muscle. With a loud thud that seemed to further anger the few still remaining ravens, the man fell over and threw up.

'Bastard,' muttered Tracey darkly, snatching her wand and stunning the Auror. 'See?' she said with a cocky grin, one foot on the unconscious giant. 'You should be glad you brought me!'

'Don't be daft!' shouted Harry angrily. 'Aurors always work i-'

A bolt of red hit Tracey from behind, felling her like a hollow willow.

Swearing madly, Harry threw himself behind the fallen Auror. He tried to close his hand around his wand that had luckily rolled right in front of his feet, but a burning knife of pure agony raced up his arm as he moved his fingers, and he nearly dropped it again, yelping in pain.

A curse raced over his head, crashing into the ruin behind him with an ominous groan, sending bricks flying everywhere.

I don't have time for this! I need to get Tracey, Ophala and the rest and get the hell out of here!

Another hex slammed into the building behind him, and this time the shrapnel caught him around the left side of his head, throwing Harry to the ground with another muffled yell.

Gingerly, Harry brought the hand that felt a bit less like a mess of splinters to his left ear. Harry's stomach turned as his fingers didn't find anything and came away with sticky, warm fluids, and he had to look away, fighting down the vomit.

Grasping, Harry's vision began to blur as the third spell missed the unconscious Tracey by an inch, exploding somewhere in the snow behind the shop like fireworks on New Year's Eve.

'NO!'

With a battle cry of rage, Harry took his broken right wrist into his left hand, averted his eyes...and squeezed.

The pain was unimaginable, but Harry bit his lip until he could taste the blood. Spitting out, he levelled the wand in his shaking left hand at his wrist. Bandages spun up his lower hand, coiling around his wrist. Harry accidentally bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming out, retching a bit more as copious amounts of blood entered his windpipe.

The world swam before his eyes, and – for a few seconds – Harry gaped stupidly at the colourful lights that flew over his cover. Another loud bang brought him back to the present, and he levelled his wand with his rudimentarily restored hand at his throat.

Focusing his will as best he could, he thought, 'Anapneo!'

The effect was immediate, and Harry drew two deep breaths before he shifted his wand until, with a complicated bit of finger work, it aimed at both of his wrists. 'Emendo!'

A brief, disgusting crack forced Harry to take another forceful gulp, but when he gave his wrist a reluctant and very gentle shake, everything seemed to hold – for now.

It took Harry a second to reorient himself, but that was a second the steadily approaching Auror did not seem willing to give up. He jumped over his colleague, lunging at Harry with a fierce snarl. Harry, startled by the events he still couldn't quite follow, had jumped up out of fright, which was exactly why the fierce hook only hit his chest. The force of the strike slammed him into the building behind him, and his left leg got caught by the yard sign, twisting completely the wrong way. Before his attacker could follow up with any spell that would seal his defeat, Harry weakly raised his wand, still dazed, and concentrated fiercely on the only spell left on his mind, 'Invoco Noctem!'

From one second to the next, the whole area was doused in thick darkness. Harry, finally gathering his wit and gritting his teeth, crawled a few yards to his left. A Blasting Curse hit the spot he'd been cowering at not a second later.

The Auror had – amazingly – managed to take cover behind a still running luxury car despite the total darkness, reciting at least three incantations every second, desperately trying to dispel Harry's charm. Harry, wordlessly silencing himself with a flick of his wand, dragged his body to the man and sent him to the floor with one last nonverbal Stunning Spell.

Wheezing, Harry lay on the floor for a few minutes, desperate not to pass out. When the world finally stopped spinning like mad, he pulled himself up, pushing his body against the car. One leg more or less completely useless by now, he limped towards Tracey, disregarding the expanding darkness that by now shrouded at least half the city block. To his immense relief, Tracey seemed to have miraculously escaped any shrapnel or stray spell.

'Rennervate!'

Her eyebrows merely quivered for a few moments, but then, her golden eyes flew open. Harry was impressed when she didn't cry out or attempt to move in the darkness.

'It's alright,' he mumbled, tapping her shoulder with his throbbing right hand.

'Harry?' she whispered, sitting up, arms outstretched. 'Why is it so dark? I-I can't see anything!'

'Don't worry...' Tilting his wand back and forth, he allowed the charm to lift in their immediate vicinity.

'Salazar's blood!' cried Tracey, looking at him with fear in her eyes. 'Your mouth... Harry, your ear...!'

''s not the time,' he mumbled, coughing a bit as he tried to stand. Tracey immediately jumped up and put his left arm around her shoulder. 'The Aurors,' he grunted.

Carefully, he levitated the unconscious pair of Aurors into the shadows of the car. 'The big one recognised me,' he said, nodding in the direction of the still growing bubble of darkness. 'He was with Antonius back at Hogwarts.'

'Y-you're not going to kill them, are you? You can't, they're Aurors!'

Harry looked down at them with a hateful glance, remembering how close the second one, who was now finally revealed to be a bald man in his early forties, had come to maiming the witch next to him. Noiselessly, the big raven from before landed on top of the sports car, tilting its head this and that way in erratic, almost curious movements.

'No,' he said, coming to a decision and lifting his wand.

Both Tracey and the raven looked up at him.

Narrowing his eyes, he breathed, 'Obliviate!'

The surrounding area briefly lit up in intense silvery light, but Tracey looked relieved. 'Nice! I didn't know you had that to fall back on! I thought it took years to get it right.'

'It does,' conceded Harry with an enigmatic smile. 'I can't target specific memories.'

Tracey and the raven both tilted their heads quizzically. Warily, Harry gave the raven a second glance.

'But you said you ca-' began Tracey.

'I can, however, remove their last few minutes, hours or even days, depending on how much I overload the spell,' he said with a cold sneer, tapping his left leg almost offhandedly with his wand to salve the pain a bit, his eyes again on the two Aurors.

His expression was beginning to unsettle Tracey. 'How much power did you use?' she asked, shivering a bit and not just from the cold.

Finally, Harry turned around, the Aurors obviously no concern of his any longer. 'All of it.'

With jerky, powerful movements, the fat raven took flight again just as a shadow fell over Harry and Tracey, his talons scratching Harry's shoulder painfully. Harry aimed his wand at the rabid animal, but the moment he looked up, the raven immediately ceased to be of any concern.

Dully, Harry stared at the three stories of falling concrete and stone. There was no spell on Harry's depleted mind, no clear thought – only the sight of the silently falling tons of masonry about to crush both him and Tracey was burnt into his eyes.

'Tracey?'

'Hmm?'

'I'm sorry.'

And with an almighty, rumbling crash, the débris hit the street, tons and tons of rock smashing into the asphalt with life-denying finality.

Even after the terrible roar finally stopped, it took minutes for the dust to settle. Numb from disbelief, Harry looked up. Tracey gaped at him, her mouth still open from her last scream of horror. Clenching his fist to stop the trembling, he had a look at the floor. The space around both of their feet, which just so happened to include the Aurors, was the only space in about fifty yards free from rubble. The Muggle vehicle not one foot away wasn't even visible anymore under the landslide of rubbish.

'Do you believe in higher powers?' he whispered hoarsely.

Tracey gave a shaky, hysterical laugh. 'T-That wasn't you?!'

Slowly, Harry shook his head. Tracey, her big eyes moving frantically, only muttered, 'Merlin's beard!'

After a few calming breaths, Tracey eventually climbed the avalanche, helping the completely exhausted and still very much limping Harry along the way.

'Can't you do anything? You look horrible!'

'Can't,' he sighed, almost falling down when he had another coughing fit and spat out blood. 'I already did my best to stay mobile, but my knee is smashed, an-' He stopped, fighting for breath with a terrible whistling sound. 'And something's wrong with my lung,' he added in a low voice.

'I...I'm sorry about forgetting, you know, Auror protocols,' whispered Tracey apologetically.

'It's not your fault,' he returned briskly. 'I got caught like an idiot. You did well.'

She smiled at him awkwardly, clearly unconvinced, but they continued their journey nevertheless, if decidedly slower than before.

'It's not much farther, Harry, come on!' said Tracey, trying to cheer him up, wincing as he buckled down and spat out some more blood.

Contrary to Tracey's tangible hope, they soon came across an obstacle that completely shattered their illusion of an easy finish for their desperate rescue mission gone awry.

'It's their hunting ground,' mumbled Harry, slumping down at the next corner, close to a still smoking wreck, carefully spying around the corner.

'What are we supposed to do?!' asked Tracey. 'It's in the way!'

Not three hundred yards further down the street, there was a curtain of snow, hail and ice, enclosing parts of the city like a dome, terrible purple strikes of lightning flashing through the air so often they had to avert their eyes. The daunting magical phenomenon made Harry's skin crawl. It felt...wrong.

Possibly even worse than the impassable veil of tempest that made Siberia seem like a pleasurable option for vacation, dozens of armoured Muggle vehicles stood further down the road, men in uniforms scurrying about, conversing with a dozen men in long leather coats.

Even from a distance, Harry rather thought the tallest of them had strikingly familiar long, auburn hair.

'We can't go through there, we need to go around,' hissed Tracey.

'No time,' mumbled Harry, his eyes drilling into the giant.

'That's madness! Those are special Aurors, the both of us couldn't even take one of them in a fair fight – nevermind a dozen!'

'I know.'

'And...and you can't go through that storm in your state, Harry!' she pleaded. 'We'll freeze to death in there!'

'I know.'

'And the lightni-'

'Shut up, Tracey,' mumbled Harry drowsily, fumbling in his robes for a few seconds, until his fingers closed around a very specific unbreakable bit of glass he'd taken to carry around since uncovering the truth about the nightmares in the forest.

'Tracey, I'm,' he bent over, coughing violently, 'I-I wish to apologise in advance; you'll have to trust me that no harm will come to you.'

'What?!'

Slowly, Harry produced a tiny phial with a black substance rarer even than carbonado.

'What is that, Harry?' asked Tracey, eyeing the little phial as if it were a doomsday weapon.

'Lethifold blood.'

'And?' she asked under her breath, looking more apprehensive by the second.

'Did you know there's only ever one pack of Lethifolds in any given area? They're cannibals.'

'...No!'

'And that's why I'm going to toss this further up the street,' he continued, unimpressed. 'The pack will descend upon that area in a frenzy, and they'll clear the way for us too.'

'No, you can't! There are people up north, Harry!'

'There are people down south, too,' he replied calmly, gripping the phial.

'A-and the Aurors, the military. You can't!' she pleaded. 'Please!'

'Most of the people left alive up north should be barricaded in their homes. And the Aurors,' he said, eyeing the men in the dark leather coats. 'Well, I'm sure most of them will make it out somehow.'

'And the Muggles?' insisted Tracey shrilly.

Harry didn't answer, placing the phial in his left palm, holding it high above his head, and aiming his wand. 'Tracey?'

'No, Harry, please don't do this!'

'Close your eyes!'

And without giving her a chance to protest again, Harry blasted the phial high into the air, his spell to cancel the unbreakable charm finding its target half a second later. In a spectacular arc, it soared through the sky like a star, the glass sparkling, reflecting the lightning storm until only the very occasional glint was all that could be seen.

Harry waited, all his muscles tense, listening with all his might. The silence was torment...

A sudden and tremendous thunder burst all the windows in the street, and Harry threw himself over Tracey, flicking his wand with silent prayers. The wind was deafening – a frightful howl filled with indiscernible screams and loaded with snow and the chill of death. It washed over them like the tide, clawing, ripping at their minds from within their skulls, tearing at their very sanity.

:::This presence was tasted before...little Thoughtling? Has it come to play?:::

:::Little Thoughtling!:::

Involuntarily, Harry looked up for the briefest of moments out of sheer terror. Something unnaturally thin and dark was flickering just beyond his vision – but it was out there, too fast for him to focus on. From one second to the next, the terrible screeching in his mind increased tenfold. Harry cried out in pain, dropping his head like a beaten child.

:::Hide, little Thoughtling. Hide, vanish in the winds!:::

:::Yes, vanish!:::

:::Vanish!:::

Tracey was screaming, twisting madly in his grip, and all Harry could do was to somehow keep up his charm and restrain the flailing witch as best as he could – hoping against hope...

And miraculously, as if following his prayers, the malicious gale gradually settled a bit.

Only forty seconds later, Harry reluctantly blasted his own shield charm to prevent the heap of snow on his protective spell from burying them alive. Snow banks as high as eight feet loomed large.

Looking north, he saw the familiar dome of hail and lightning encasing the central most part of London. Further down the street, the area was deserted, a large Muggle vehicle with some kind of long, protruding barrel stood abandoned, the only thing still visible in the snow, the only reminder of the former checkpoint.

Grimly, Harry looked down at the still trembling form of Tracey.

'Tracey,' he called softly.

But the witch continued to whimper and shiver in the snow.

'TRA-' Harry broke down again, succumbing to another coughing fit, his lungs burning. Thinking better of it, he shook the witch, not too ruggedly. 'Tracey, wake up!'

Tracey's eyes snapped open, still bulging in terror, and she shrieked at the top of her voice.

'Tracey!' he called again, still shaking her. 'Look at me!'

Her scream stopped abruptly, her wide eyes on Harry. Then, she sagged with debility as if all strength had left her body.

'Come on, it's over,' he said in a soft voice, noting that her body was still convulsing slightly.

'That was awful, Harry,' she whimpered, tears in her eyes.

'I bet you're glad you had to study Occlumency now, aren't you?' he said with a humourless grin.

Tracey nodded shakily, her left hand clutching Harry's robes. 'I feel weak...'

Harry rubbed his eyes. He hadn't expected Tracey to suffer quite as much, but then again, even after the barbaric training in Occlumency he had endured this past year and all the carefully planned instructions before, he'd almost lost consciousness. That he had somehow managed to keep the charm going and prevent Tracey from seriously hurting herself was nothing but a bloody wonder.

It took a lot of effort for him to drag her to her feet again. Harry had benumbed his own leg, shoulder and wrists, but that didn't help much with the burning pain in his lungs or the breathing. Tracey, too, swayed dangerously when they finally started walking again, both too tired to crouch, both one arm around the other in the faint hope of not toppling over.

The checkpoint was completely devoid of life, though neither Harry or Tracey looked too closely under their feet as they hobbled over the crimson snow, two solitary figures in a world of white, grey and red.

Tracey gave a short hysterical laugh as she saw the bite marks on the tank. 'This is horrible,' she muttered again. 'I-I can't believe you summoned them intentionally!'

Harry said nothing.

'The...marks seem kind of different from what you and Leo described though,' she said. A moment later, she apparently realised what she'd said, and she covered her own mouth, disgusted with herself.

'Who knows – maybe they're just letting off steam?' he speculated numbly.

Tracey gave him a long, hard stare through droopy eyes. 'Has anyone ever told you your humour is really awful?'

They travelled straight south, occasionally blasting gigantic drifts of snow out of their way, wary of burnt-out buildings, their tired eyes nervously scanning the area. But they were alone, the only two humans still foolish enough to prowl the roads. And that was no wonder; the distant pulse of the unrelenting magical thunderstorm still shook the earth almost a mile further south. At least there weren't so many corpses on the streets anymore. Apparently, the strange Muggle sirens kept the people in their shelters.

In the end, they reached an alley with a small boutique back to back with a devastated flower shop. Harry pursed his lips, looking at the space between the shops. The pavement looked charred, but no building in the immediate vicinity seemed to have been hit by the ferocious lightning strikes. He took that as a good sign.

Nodding at one another, they trudged towards the solid wall, not even looking up as it gave way and opened up to a small, homely building that stood encircled by a soigné orchard meadow.

As they approached the house, Harry aimed the wand in his right that was still slung over Tracey's shoulder and muttered, 'Obscuro!'

Tracey stumbled immediately, nearly causing both of them to kiss the cobbles. 'What the hell, H...Enzo?!'

'She's not to know, Viktor!' said Harry, dunning.

They'd barely taken a dozen paces on the plot when the front door burst open, and both Daphne and Tori appeared, wands raised. The moment they spotted Harry, they came running, crying tears of relief.

'Harry, Harry!'

'Harry, oh my god, Harry! What happened to you?! I'm so glad you're safe,' cried Daphne, hugging his painfully protesting chest. 'Mum did some charm an hour ago, and she's been bleeding ever since! W-we don't know what to do!'

'Show me to her!' he said, coughing.

'Who's this?' asked Tori bravely, pointing at Tracey and trying not to stare at Harry's face with revulsion.

'Oh, he's Viktor,' said Harry with a small smirk. 'He's a mate of mine.'

Daphne immediately put her arms around Harry and helped him into the house, Tori helping the silent but presumably glaring Tracey, whose hood now appeared all but empty, a shadow hiding her entire face.

Ophala looked weak, her long, elegant limbs pallid, dark circles around her eyes. The girls had obviously sustained her with Blood Replenishers, but a short look towards the floor and the peculiar wound on her wrist told Harry all he needed to know.

He produced the lighter from within his pocket, trailing his wand over the metal to modify the Portkey with a new destination.

'Grab each other's hands!' he instructed the girls.

Nervously, they did as they were told, Tori and Daphne holding their fainted mother up.

'Harry, what about y-' asked Tori, confused.

'Daphne, catch!'

Automatically, Daphne caught the lighter in her left hand. With a whistle and a flash of light, they all disappeared with mixed looks of shock and bewilderment.

Harry gave a violent cough, kneeling down, tracing his wand along the floorboards. The air seemed to shimmer a bit. Making a face, Harry repeated the pattern of his movements for five more minutes until a red circle with dozens of wiggling symbols appeared from thin air, exactly where Daphne's and Tori's mother had collapsed.

With a grim nod, Harry flicked his wand, and the ward immediately lit up in violet flames.

It seems Regulus taught you a few tricks, Ophala...

After one last sweeping motion across the floor to hide all traces of their arrival, Harry took his cape in his hands and, with a sigh of relief, activated the second Portkey he had created back at Tracey's, the cape yanking him and – quite possibly – a seriously disgruntled Tracey back towards her home...

~BLVoD~

Two hours later, only the crows and ravens bore witness to the one hundred men in leather coats and one magnificently bearded gentleman in yellow robes as they collectively raised their wands, and rays of light shot up into the dark, overcast sky of London. The clouds tore open, and a terrible rumbling echoed all over the city as the storm suddenly drifted westwards, away from the city.

In the next few hours, the winds died down, and the sun once more shone down upon the world of man.

But about a quarter million Muggles, witches and wizards alike would never again open their eyes to see the warming rays of light.