A/N Reminder to check lotrproject dot com to see the maps of Middle-earth and Beleriand if you want to know where the story is at.

A/N Merry Christmas everybody! :)

The Ruins of Beleriand

The Stars of Varda. The Winds of Manwë. Yavanna's earth. The rolling Sea of Ulmo. All came to pass as Alatar and Pallando sailed The Straight Road that Ælfwine of England had once sailed. 'The peak of Mount Taras still stands mighty tall beneath the waves,' said Alatar to Pallando as they looked down over the edge of ship's deck. The top of the once snow-peaked mountain was covered in gently waving seaweed. The mountain marked the very Western point of what was once West Beleriand. Taken by the great wave caused by the War of Wrath that marked the ending of the First Age, and which swallowed the land, with its forests, cities, and history of grandeur, all the way to the Blue Mountains, never to be seen again.

'I am relieved to see we have returned,' said Pallando. A sense of peace washed over his face as the ship glided over the peaks of the mountain range. 'Soon we shall set foot upon the Eastern shore.'

'And after you have set the first step,' Alatar asked, 'where shall the step following lead to?'

'Should we not make way to our leader?' Pallando answered in surprise. 'Make it known that the Blue Wizards have returned to Middle-earth? Receive council from our wisest on the awakening of Sauron's movements in Mordor?'

Alatar had feared as such. Once they would reach the shore, their feet were bound to follow another path. 'I must prioritise finding my students,' he said. 'For they have Kémya with them, and I find my chances of finding them greater in Rivendell than I do in Isengard. For Curumo may be wise, but he also sits upon his chair in Orthanc deep in thought, and the world passes around him like a ripple in water. But Lord Elrond sees far, and hears much of the disturbances that rustle the leaves.'

'Then it shall be so that we must go our separate ways,' said pallando. 'For we always find our way back to each other in the end.' His hand, that Alatar had barely noticed had been resting on top of his own hand, pulled away. 'I shall return to the cabin and rest for a while. Time seems to pass at a higher pace when there is no sense of longing for the shore lingering in my mind.'

Alatar watched Pallando close the door to the cabin, and returned his gaze towards the mountain range beneath him. For a long time, he meditated on the silence of the deep, until a note of song entered his ear. Its sound sweet and clear, and filled with longing as though it were a lamentation of loss. As the miles progressed, so did the sound of song fill Alatar's ears. Louder and louder it grew, and more beautiful than the songs of the Merpeople in the Great Lake had ever sang. Maglor's voice, Alatar thought to himself. The second son of Fëanor, greatest of poets and ministrels, and the one who raised Elrond and Elros in the absence of their parents. Maglor, who had stolen a Silmaril from Morgoth after the War of Wrath. It had burnt his hands, and in his suffering, he had cast the Silmaril into the sea. He wandered the shores of Arda since, lamenting the loss of his precious Silmaril until he faded from memory. It is unknown what faith had befallen him, but many claim his spirit still lingers along the shores – and his song could still be heard in the crashing of the waves.

Time and song went on, and the first peaks of the hidden city of Gondolin came into view. Nearly all its outer walls had collapsed, and in its very centre, in the Square of the Palace, lay scattered the Tower of Turgon, crushed at the base by a Great Worm, killing the King as the Tower crashed down on him. It was difficult to see, but Alatar could see a light shimmering amongst the green of the sea. There, fashioned in the image of the Two Trees of Valinor, stood Glingal and Belthil. They had withered during the Fall of Gondolin, and yet it seemed as if the two trees shone with more radiance than they ever had before. The song of Maglor now surrounded him, and in between the two trees lay a gem, so bright and beautiful that it had awakened the two trees from their slumber. A Silmaril, with the light of the Two Trees of Valinor captured in its heart. The Silmaril that Maglor had cast into the sea had found its final resting place here.

'This is where your journey has led,' Alatar spoke softly to the Silmaril from above, 'and this is where you shall stay.'

…o0o…

It had taken a while, for Professor McGonagall appeared to be busier than ever, ever since Dumbledore had disappeared from the castle. She would spend several days at a time down in London at the Ministry, which was also in more disarray than ever now that Dumbledore was gone. When she was at the castle, and if she wasn't teaching, she would lock herself into the headmaster's office and not leave the desk until well after midnight.

At last, James finally had found his opportunity to speak to her in private when a trip to Hogsmeade had been announced. Battling against a harsh October wind, students and teachers made their way to the little wizarding village for some well-earned downtime. With his Cloak of Invisibility tucked safely into the pocket of his cloak, he waved off his friends who mumbled quiet good lucks to him, and followed her. 'Professor,' he called out to her carefully. 'Professor, could I speak with you for a minute?'

'Not now, mister Potter,' said McGonagall sternly. 'I haven't had a single moment of peace for several weeks now, and all I want is one single afternoon to myself.'

'I'm sorry Professor,' said James, and retaliated a bit once he saw McGonagall's angry glare at him. 'I'm terribly sorry, but I don't think this can wait any longer.'

'Mister Potter, must it really be –'

'Yes, now,' said James. 'My dear Minerva, if you find this letter, it means that I am gone. I saw the letter, Professor.'

McGonagall stopped dead in her tracks and looked James straight in the eye. It wasn't anger that James saw anymore, but rather a look of concern. 'It's not so much about the content of the letter,' he said before McGonagall was able to speak up, 'but rather about the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.' Making sure that no-one around them was able to see, he pulled out the Cloak of Invisibility and held it up for her to see. 'This is one of the Hallows, Professor. I'm a descendant of Ignotus Peverell. Will you please speak with me about this?'

McGonagall appeared to take a moment to make sense of what was happening in front of her, nodded, and made James stuff the Cloak back into his pocket. 'Follow me,' she said hastily. She turned around on the balls of her feet and strutted off towards the Shrieking Shack. 'It's the only place where I know where we can have this conversation in private for now.'

James obliged, and not another word was uttered between them until the backdoor of the Shrieking Shack was shut tight and they had taken place in the dusty armchairs that stood in the centre of the room. 'Were you with me in the headmaster's office when I opened that letter?' she asked.

'Yes,' James answered with a hint of shame. 'Hidden under the Cloak. I was just looking for answers, Professor. Answers in regard to Lily and Snape's disappearance. I did not expect to find the name of Albus Dumbledore to be associated with the Deathly Hallows.'

McGonagall removed her glasses from the tip of her nose and let out a sigh. 'The history between Dumbledore and Grindelwald is long,' she said. 'Much longer than what is written in our history, but not all is for me to reveal.'

'I understand,' said James with a nod.

'For many years Albus has searched for that very Cloak you carry in your pocket,' McGonagall explained. 'It is a strange twist of fate that it reveals itself now that he's gone. The story is about immortality. It's a theme that he has carried with him for as long as I've known him – and yet it associates much better with Grindelwald. Grindelwald feared Death, and perhaps still does, and searched every corner of the earth to find ways to achieve it. He believed he had found his way in the Tales of Beedle the Bard.'

'The tale is true,' said James. 'The Cloak is here, but I don't know what has become of the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone. From what my father told me, it's better if the Deathly Hallows never get a chance to meet, for defying Death would be like defying the purpose of life.'

'Grindelwald had found the Elder Wand,' said McGonagall. 'It granted him to wield extraordinary power for a very long time, and it clouded the Wizarding World in darkness. It was on the second of November, at the rising of the dawn in nineteen forty-five, that Albus defeated Grindelwald in one of the greatest duels ever held in Wizarding history. He won the Elder Wand that day, and he's carried it with him ever since.'

'Did he take it with him when he left?' asked James.

McGonagall nodded. 'He did. You know of the current turmoil in our world. Albus would not take any chances of the Elder Wand ever falling into the hands of Lord Voldemort. It is better that he took it with him, even if it means carrying it with him in the very presence of Gellert Grindelwald himself.'

James flinched a bit at the mention of Voldemort's name. 'And what of the other Hallow? Has Dumbledore ever mentioned anything about it?'

'Mister Potter, do you understand what it is that you are asking of me?' asked McGonagall.

'I do,' said James with a hint of determination. 'Because soon I will graduate from Hogwarts and head straight into an uprising war. Protecting one of the Hallows has been my family's life's work, and making sure that the Cloak never falls into the hands of someone such as You-Know-Who is a responsibility that will rest upon my shoulders. Professor, I know I haven't been the best example of someone who takes responsibility for his actions – but I do, very much, care about this.'

'You certainly have a proclivity for getting yourself into trouble, mister Potter,' said McGonagall. 'But you are correct. It should never fall into the hands of Voldemort, for not unlike Grindelwald, he not only seeks power – but also to hold on that that power forever. I do believe that Hogwarts is the safest place to be. For all students, but also for that Cloak you carry. The Resurrection Stone has been found, mister Potter – and right now it resides in the hands of Lord Voldemort.'

James could feel his heart starting to pound in his chest. 'Does he know what it does?' he asked carefully.

'From what Albus has told me,' McGonagall explained, 'it was not the Stone, but the ring in which the Stone is set. The ring once belonged to the Gaunt family, who were descendants of Salazar Slytherin. Voldemort's ancestors. There may be a possibility that Voldemort is unaware of the Stone's power – but I would not hold on to too much hope. He's held the ring in his possession for several decades now.'

James knew that all Wizards were related somehow. Especially those who were considered pure-bloods such as himself due to their long tradition of marriages happening exclusively between Witches and Wizards. But the thought that he and You-Know-Who were related through blood, albeit from very far away, still made him feel a bit sick to his stomach. The fact that the Stone was in his hands did not make the thought of it any better. 'Has Dumbledore gone to find Lily and Snape?' he asked to change the subject.

'I hope so,' said McGonagall, 'but to say that I know for certain would be a lie. I know he is with Grindelwald, and as you already know from the letter, he has travelled through the lake to whatever place he came from. My mind is set on the idea that he is searching for our missing students, but knowing Albus there is always more to the story than he's leading on.'

'But you do believe they're still alive?'

'I do believe that miss Evans and mister Snape are not lost in the Great Lake,' she answered, 'but rather left it in a similar way that Albus and Grindelwald have departed through it. But without evidence, I cannot give any words of comfort to you, to their friends, nor to their families, as it would not be fair to them. Please, do keep this to yourself mister Potter. The Hallows, the ring. The headmaster's departure. It is a lot to carry on your young shoulders, but as you said, you have inherited the weight of a heavy responsibility, and so you must be strong enough to carry it.'

James nodded in understanding. 'Thank you, Professor. For taking your time to talk to me about this.'

McGonagall stood up gracefully from the armchair and dusted herself off. 'You can always knock on my door if you need to, mister Potter. It's time for us to join the rest in Hogsmeade and enjoy this windy day. For all we know it may be the very last.'

The conversation had not been long as James followed Professor McGonagall out of the Shrieking Shack, but his mind was filled with all the information he had just received. The Cloak had been a great way to make McGonagall speak up about the situation involving Lily and Snivellus' disappearance, and that the chances of them being alive were far greater than of them having lost their life is a tragical accident. He couldn't help but feel as if the Hallows were connected to it somehow, and by the time they went their separate ways in Hogsmeade, James had developed a new-found determination to pry the ring from You-Know-Who's hands through any means necessary. He would do anything – anything – if it meant solving a piece to the puzzle of Lily's disappearance.

…o0o…

'Can I get you anything else, My Lord?' Lucius Malfoy bowed deeply after offering his master a glass of wine. Lucius had recently married the love of his life, Narcissa. They had many plans once she moved into Malfoy Manor, many of which had involved a bit more privacy. Most of these plans however, and much to Narcissa's dismay, had been flung out of the window once Lord Voldemort had decided to name the Manor his main headquarters. Despite the enormity of the Manor in size, it had felt small, crowded, and cramped with all the Death Eaters walking in and out and treating it as though it were a local greasy spoon. But with the Lord in their midst, there was no room for discussion.

'That'll be all, Lucius,' said Voldemort. 'Has there been any news about that Snape boy recently?'

'Not to my knowledge, no, sir,' said Lucius. 'Minister Harold Minchum has told me that their search of the Great Lake is coming to an end. The crater was all that the Pettigrew boy had been able to find, and no traces of any magic involved has been found. They're going to write it off as a tragic accident – their graves will be marked and empty, and that will be all.'

'I wish to be left alone for a moment to think,' said Voldemort with a wave in Lucius' direction. With another bow Lucius walked away and shut the door to his own living room. Voldemort turned his gaze towards the hearth, which cackled comfortably and bright. Severus Snape and the girl had not vanished into thin air; of that he was certain. The last time he had seen the boy was during the Christmas break of the boy's sixth year at Hogwarts. One of the most brilliant students he ever had the fortune to witness. Talented and gifted beyond his years – and broken enough to be easily persuaded into his cause.

The first time Severus Snape had set foot inside Malfoy Manor was during the Christmas break of the year before. On the verge of turning sixteen, scrawny and neglected, and his mind easier than an egg to crack and break into. Lucius had seen something in the boy when they had met at Hogwarts, and had taken him under his wing during his time as a Prefect. That's where Lucius' talents lie. Recognising and building up the talent he found around him, only to harvest and feast on their success.

Snape, the half-blood boy who had somehow found his way inside Slytherin's House. Carved his own path into belonging, focussed hard on his studies, and who carried terrible secrets with him. A boy he very much identified with. Lucius had been given a Dementor by Minister Minchum that winter. Lied to the Minister under the pretence that he needed a Dementor to practise with in case he ever needed to visit Azkaban. The Dementor, however, had been a means to teach the Death Eaters on how to defend themselves against it – in case they ever did find themselves locked behind the bars of Azkaban.

And so it had been Snape's turn. In the boy's mind he could see how his Muggle father lashed him as the Dementor approached him. Trying to beat out the very magic that made him who he is. His red-haired friend, furious at the words he had spoken. His yew wand shaking violently as he held it up against the Dementor's throat – and then something happened none had been able to foresee. A dark cloud had formed in the room. Violent as a thundering storm it raged around them, breaking the windows and tears down the tapestries and the paintings off the walls in fury. Shrieks of horror were let out in its destructive path, until it suddenly vanished as quickly as it had come. Snape had fallen to the ground in exhaustion, and the Dementor had dissolved into nothingness. "A thing to be weaponised," he had told the boy. An Obscurial, right there for the taking, and desperate to receive a place among his ranks.

And a place among his ranks he would receive. The year following, on the moment the boy turned seventeen and the Trace on him would be lifted, he received the Dark Mark's branding on his arm. A lot had changed within the boy that year. The thoughts in his mind were no longer easy to see, as though the fragile shell it once was had turned into a safe with many locks and traps along the way. He carried himself differently. Stronger. More determined. He barely made a sound as the hot iron was held against his arm. The sound and scent of sizzling flesh filling the air as the Dark Mark was branded on him forever.

At the recall of the memory, Lord Voldemort fumbled around with the Ring on his finger. The boy was bound to become his most loyal servant yet, and now the tale has taken a turn on him. Snape and the girl hadn't just vanished. They were taken, somehow, somewhere. As though someone else was aware of the unique power the boy possessed, and had taken him out of the equation on purpose. Dumbledore had to be behind all this. His disappearance has not gone unnoticed. The incompetent leaders at the Ministry had made it abundantly clear that they could not go on without their great and wise informant whispering in their ear. Their fear for him had started to grow. You-Know-Who, they started to call him, not understanding that they were merely increasing their own fear by doing so.

Voldemort's hand fell over his breast, where he touched upon Slytherin's locket that hung around his neck. The weight of it had been a comfort, but as of late it had become more of a heavy burden. From an inner pocket of his cloak, he pulled out a battered old diary and placed it upon his lap. Ravenclaw's diadem was already hidden in de Room of Requirement. Done so about a decade ago when he had asked Dumbledore for a teaching position at Hogwarts. Hufflepuff's cup was stored deep inside Gringotts in Lestrange's family vault, but his other three Horcruxes had yet to find a permanent place of residency. 'Lucius, could you come back in here?' he called out.

A moment later, Lucius swung open the door. 'Yes, my Lord?'

'I need you to hide this, and hide it well,' Voldemort said as he handed over the diary. 'Hide it so that no man can ever find it.'

Lucius took the diary from his Lord's hands with a sense of confusion. 'As you wish,' my Lord,' he said, unsure of the significance and importance of the object he was holding.

'I will take my leave first thing in the morning,' said Voldemort, and inside Lucius' mind he only saw confusion and obedience.

'And when can we expect your return?' asked Lucius carefully.

'When I am done,' Voldemort answered. 'I must pay a short visit to Little Hangleton, and to the seaside where the cliffs are steep. Do enjoy what little time you have without me, Lucius.'

'Of course, my Lord,' Lucius answered with a voice laced with guilt. 'Narcissa will be pleased.'

…o0o…

Eileen had been spending most of her time at the Evanses. At first Tobias had resented it. Yelled and screamed at her that it wasn't with them that she should find comfort in their loss. But as the days progressed, the more he was letting her go. It had become the talk of the day in Cokeworth and beyond. The disappearing of their children, and how they had vanished into thin air. By the time the local newspapers had discovered that Severus and Lily were not attending any of the local schools, that magical Ministry had to step in and pulled some mind-erasing tricks to put it to rest. The people of Cokeworth no longer spoke of the missing children, and instead it was as if it were they never existed at all. Both Evanses and Snapes had agreed that they weren't sure what was worse. The whole town fussing over them, or the absolute silence that had followed.

Tobias hated how he had been right about Severus. Radicalising like some sort of Wizard equivalent of a blithering Nazi. Falling into the trap of empty promises filled with glory and riches in exchange for his service. Traps he, too, had once fallen for. Perhaps his son was a lot more like him than he cared to admit, and the thought of it scared him more than he was prepared for.

The nightmares came and went. Sometimes they were prevalent, and caused him to wake up screaming in the middle of the night. And sometimes they were but a mere mist in the background, as though nothing more than a painful memory of the past. This night however, he could feel that he was falling back into a nightmare, and it always started the same way; by him falling facedown into a rain-soaked trench surrounded by his men cowering down from enemy fire. He would get up and run, and a trail of faceless soldiers would follow him at the heel. He ran and he ran, following a dark-blue cloak that seemed untouchable by the bullets and the rain that were flying around him.

"I cannot find what you are looking for!" he screamed.

"Then search harder!" The man in the dark-blue cloak turned around, revealing his tall stature, well kempt beard, and piercing dark-blue eyes. He did not move his mouth, but rather spoke inside Tobias' mind with a dark voice.

"How can I find something if I don't know what I'm looking for?" Tobias asked, desperate. "Badgers? Helga's cup? I don't understand."

"Call it by the name you know it," the tall man said inside his mind. "I call it Helga's chalice, but you know it as the Holy Grail. That is what you must find for me on this battlefield. The Holy Grail."

"But, mister Grindelw—" his dream state mind prevented Tobias from speaking any further. In his dream he turned around, and found soldiers, countless and faceless, strewn on the muddy ground, dead and bleeding out. All safe for one, who walked up to him and grabbed him by the throat. His green eyes turned to fire as he spat; "They all fell at the mercy of the ghost in your head!"

A/N More on Severus being an Obscurial and why can be found in the Author's Notes in chapter 20.

A/N "[Harry] But how did you find it?"
"[Dumbledore] Well, as you now know, for many years I have made it my business to discover as much as I can about Voldemort's past life. I have travelled widely, visiting those places he once knew. I stumbled across the ring hidden in the ruin of the Gaunt's house."

In the HP books it seemed that Dumbledore found the Gaunt's ring Horcrux hidden in the abandoned shack by mere chance (while also delving deep into Riddle's history of course). Still, there's no given lead as to how he managed to find it and take it with him. I'd like to believe it was because he wasn't looking for the Horcrux at all, but for the Hallow, which he recognised by the symbol carved in the Ring, as a continuation of Grindelwald's mission to find it.

A/N [Dumbledore] (..) until he forced the truth out of Lucius Malfoy. When Voldemort discovered that the diary had been mutilated and robbed of all his powers, I am told that his anger is terrible to behold.'
[Harry] 'But I thought he meant Lucius Malfoy to smuggle it into Hogwarts?'
[Dumbledore] 'Yes he did, years ago, when he was sure he would be able to create more Horcruxes, but still Lucius was supposed to wait for Voldemort's say-so, and he never received it, for Voldemort vanished shorty after giving him the diary.'

Just how shorty it was that Riddle gave his diary to Lucius is unknown, but we do know that it happened before Lily and James' death.

A/N Maglor was the second son of Fëanor, known for being the greatest poet and ministrel of the Ñoldor, and having inherited his mother's (Nerdanel, the one with the red hair) gentler nature. Maglor and his other six brothers swore an oath to Fëanor to retrieve the three Silmarils he once made and were stolen by Melkor (and later named Morgoth).
There's a whole epic history involved in the retrieval of the Silmarils that I cannot explain in a mere Author's Note, but 10/10 would recommend you to read The Silmarillion for. (The Story of Beren and Lúthien I will explain later).
Aside from Beren and Lúthien retrieving a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth, so did Maedhros the first son and Maglor by stealing them from the Valar. Because of the evil deeds that were committed (kin slaying) by regaining the Silmarils, the Silmarils burnt their hands. Unable to bear the pain, Maedhros threw himself into a fiery chasm in the Earth (read: volcano) with a Silmaril, and Maglor tossed his Silmaril into the sea. He wandered the shores of Arda, lamenting the loss of the Silmaril until he faded from memory. Nothing is known of his death (if he ever died at all).

A/N To help understand the names of the wizards:

Heren Istarion = Order of Wizards
Istari = Wizards
Maiar = what they are. The Maiar are the severvants of the Valar, and the Valar sent the Wizards to Middle-earth. It makes the Wizards essentially indestructible lesser gods. The Valar forbade them to wield power over the People of Arda.
Curumo = original name of Saruman the White.
Alatar = Albus Dumbledore in this story (light blue Wizard). Morinehtar is his nickname meaning "darkness-slayer."
Pallando = Gellert Grindelwald in this story (dark blue Wizard). Rómestámo is his nickname meaning "East-helper."
Olórin = original name of Gandalf the Grey.
Aiwendil = original name of Radagast the Brown.

A/N Harold Minchum was the Minister for Magic between 1975 and 1980. He was known as a hard-liner who placed a lot more Dementors around Azkaban during that time. He was unable to contain Voldemort's rise to power.

A/N Hogwarts Christmas break is two weeks long. Normally Christmas break would be the last week of December and the first week of January, but since Christmas fell on a weekend it's hard to determine when exactly students left the castle and when they returned. For the sake of this story, I will pretend they were off the first week of January. The 9th of January, Severus' birthday, fell on a Sunday. That would normally be the day the student would take the train back to Hogwarts.

A/N "The werewolf might be allowed to wear Death Eater robes when they wanted to use him, but only Voldemort's inner circle were branded with the Dark Mark: Greyback had not been granted this highest honour." Branded, not tattooed. Cattle is usually branded with a hot iron, and I can imagine someone with a sadist mindset like Voldemort would do the same. Aside from that, the mark was red and would burn hot when touched, which is pretty much what a scar looks like.