Chapter 16: Visitation

He woke up with a violent headache on Christmas morning; punishment for the bottle of wine he was allowed to split with Daphne at dinner the night before.

A loud *thumping* sound echoed off the small rooms rather large windows, causing him to groan in displeasure.

Harry felt last night's roast quake violently in his stomach as he slowly stood up to observe the source of the thumping - half ice, half raindrops beating off the windows, blocking what was otherwise a rather beautiful view of the rolling hills that adorned the property.

Feeling his wand still in its holster from the night before, Harry flicked his wrist before taping his head with the long piece of holly.

He sighed in relief as his headache dissipated seconds later, leaving him feeling almost normal.

The gesture caused him to half-laugh, half-cry as he remembered how much shit he used to give Sirius for how he would act while hungover, his not being there for his first hangover felt wrong, somehow.

"Migsy!" He called the elderly Greengrass family elf, who appeared in front of him a second later.

"Can I please get a stomach relief potion?"

Migsy nodded politely - a pure contrast to his counterparts at Hogwarts, who tended to bounce around annoyingly. "Of course, Mister Potter."

Migsy disappeared with a soft * pop* leaving him alone to ponder the elf's words.

" Mister Potter." Not ' Master' Potter as was the case at Hogwarts.

' Maybe it was a way for elves to differentiate humans?'

If that was the case, did it mean that the elves at Hogwarts considered the students to be their providers?

' We do pay tuition.' He thought with mirth.

The sudden interest gave him something to write to Madam Glass about.

He hadn't had the opportunity to utilize the etiquette lessons Sirius had insisted he take seriously, and Daphne had been pleasantly surprised at his manners after she forced a formal dinner on him in preparation for Christmas and the Yule Ball, while they were still at Hogwarts.

If he remembered correctly, she had been equally impressed with his etiquette last night.

He smiled roguishly at the thought of last night as he pulled on a pair of navy chinos and a set of dark leather shoes, matching them with an off-white oxford, complete with a pair of cufflinks adorned with the Potter Family Crest.

Heading over to the rooms small wardrobe, he grabbed a smart looking navy-blue robe that he left open in the front.

Looking at himself in the mirror he couldn't help but think he looked like a muggle in a blue suit wearing an overly long pea coat instead of a suit coat.

If he had learned one thing in his brief stay at the Greengrass residence, it was to dress well when possible.

A lesson he could have used a few nights prior.

Dark jeans, and a tee shirt, he had determined on his first night in the cozy home, did not make a great first impression.

"Harry." A soft voice called out from behind him as he left his room.

Turning around he smiled at Victoria Greengrass as she left the master suite a few rooms down.

"Victoria, Merry Christmas."

The short brunette offered him an attractive smile; a smile he had previously recognized as Astoria's more genuine smile.

The thought of Daphne's younger sister caused him to grin involuntarily; the brunette third year had a way of making you feel as though you were the most important thing in her universe.

Her mother, he was quickly learning, had a similar way about her.

Between the personalities, mannerisms, and even looks, it wasn't hard to mistake Astoria and Victoria for sisters.

Both unassuming women carried themselves with a quiet intelligence elevated by an unusual degree of empathy.

"Merry Christmas Harry; that robe looks good on you." She said with a kind look.

Daphne was more similar to Alfred, but the similarity was fleeting, and extended itself mostly to blonde hair and green eyes.

Alfred wasn't nearly as proficient as Daphne was with a wand; although both emitted an aloofness that some found off-putting.

"Thank you again, Victoria."

The robe - a Madam Turney creation - had been a gift from the Greengrass family to him for Christmas.

"You're most welcome, Harry." She said with a smile that belied her teasing.

Of the twelve gifts he had received for Christmas, ten had been robes.

Apparently, Daphne had told everyone that he had an extremely limited wardrobe.

His only respites had been Terry - who may have been the only wizard in Ravenclaw with a more drab wardrobe than Harry; and Albus, who had given him a piece of parchment with a note telling him to ask Remus for the next steps.

He frowned as he thought about his reunion with Remus in a few days - the two had barely had a chance to talk at Sirius's funeral, and he was slightly anxious about their upcoming meeting.

Harry and Victoria chatted amicably as they entered through the kitchen and into the dining room, where Migsy had set up a small buffet.

"How are you feeling this morning, Harry?" Alfred questioned, his booming voice echoing across the elegantly decorated room.

He offered the man a confident smile. "I'm doing well, sir, Merry Christmas."

Where most members of the Wizengamot would hire politically minded individuals to manage their seats on a day to day basis, only showing up for the major votes; Alfred had taken on that job - and the taxpayer-funded salary that came with it - and attacked it with gusto.

The man had been a wealth of knowledge in the weeks since his godfather had been murdered, and he had found himself thankful for the older man's counsel.

"Merry Christmas, Harry." A soft voice said from behind him as Astoria entered the dining room with a radiant smile, offering him a soft hug as she walked by.

"Mum, Dad, Merry Christmas." She continued, greeting them both with their own hugs before helping herself to a few links of sausage and some eggs.

Christmas breakfast at the Greengrass house was a casual affair, and, in a slight twist, he felt slightly overdressed.

Seeming to sense his discomfort, Astoria offered him a sympathetic look. "We tend to dress more casually on Christmas."

He made to respond, but as he did so a hazy memory from the night before pushed its way to the front of his mind.

" You don't need ta worrrryy 'bout it Harry." He remembered a drunk Daphne slurring. " Jus wear whatever!"

He smiled slightly, the night had been a dizzying and sloppy affair, and he found himself wondering what Daphne would be wearing when she rolled out of bed.

"Merry Christmas."

' Speak of the devil.'

The strong, confident, somewhat groggy voice drew the room's attention to the doorway, where a mess of blonde hair in a loose fitting tee shirt was wiping sleep from her eyes.

"We aren't that casual." Victoria turned to him and said, a touch of disapproval in her voice.

"Daphne please go upstairs and change."

Daphne rolled her eyes before glancing towards Alfred for support.

The blonde-haired man with intelligent green eyes offered his eldest daughter a warm, understanding smile.

"It's Christmas, Vicky."

Harry could see a victorious expression beginning to form on Daphne's face as Victoria's lips pursed and she glared at her husband, but otherwise allowed the subject to drop.

The five spent the next hour chatting amicably over breakfast before a tap on his shoulder pulled him away from his conversation with Astoria.

He looked up to a set of forest green eyes looking into his and glancing towards the door.

Harry watched as Daphne excused herself before he went about wrapping up his conversation with Astoria and excusing himself a few minutes later.

"Did you bring it?"

He was greeted with as he exited the dining room and into the main hallway.

In a good mood, he leaned in, catching her off guard with a kiss.

His lips briefly met hers, and he could feel her smile into him.

"Not even a Merry Christmas?"

She rolled her eyes, impatient with his antics.

"Merry Christmas. Did you bring it or not?"

He rolled his eyes before reaching into his robe and removing the small vial filled with the swirling, silvery liquid Sirius had given him during their last meeting.

Holding the vial in his hands, Harry felt his mood shift from fun and light-hearted to serious as he recalled his godfather's last gift.

It had been nearly a month since he had received the memory, and he was anxious to finally have an opportunity to view it.

The pair made their way quietly down the hallway, pausing at the entrance to the library.

Daphne grabbed his hand before leading him through the doorway.

He shivered as the wards accepted him, and he took a look around.

A large table sat in front of several small bookshelves, but otherwise the room was sparsely decorated.

"There used to be more." Daphne said quietly; "but dad moved all Aunt Ophelia's memories" to Gringotts.

Her tone carried a hint of disapproval as she led him to a plain-looking stone basin.

From a distance the pensieve looked innocuous, but closer examination revealed the dozens of tightly wound runes that allowed memories to playout before their eyes.

Stepping up to the otherwise plain wooden table, Harry took the vial from his robe before removing the stopper and emptying the contents into the pensieve.

The silver liquid swirled around for several seconds before calming.

"Are you ready?" Daphne asked, not a drop of uncertainty in her voice.

Was he ready? Outside of cataloguing Black properties, and maybe making a trip to the family vault, Sirius had nothing left to give him; this memory - whatever it was - was the last truly unique thing he would receive from his godfather.

The thought nearly made him cry.

He nodded his head resolutely before placing his left hand in the basin.

Harry felt himself get pulled into the memory the second his fingers touched the liquid, and he was soon deposited in a familiar room in a familiar house.

The conversation between the memories inhabitants started almost immediately upon entering the pensieve, the memory refusing to allow him to adjust.

" If he's just a shade, then why don't we do something about it?" His godfather's exasperated voice rang out.

Next to him Harry felt Daphne grasp his hand tightly as he took in his familiar surroundings.

The pair were in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

In front of them a severe looking Sirius Black paced back and forth, while an unusually solemn Albus Dumbledore looked on.

" Because we don't know where he is, we cannot risk letting him become aware of what we know. We've been through this, Sirius."

Albus Dumbledore's forceful response left no room for debate.

From next to him Daphne watched the scene impassively; like him she was waiting for something to happen.

" The horcruxes, Dumbledore. I know."

From next to him he felt Daphne jump in her seat slightly, but his focus remained on the memory playing out in front of him.

" You also said that you have destroyed all of them."

Dumbledore stopped him with a frown. " That I know of, Sirius. It is likely that I have overlooked one, or more. Tom's intelligence is not to be underestimated."

" How many could he have made?" Sirius seemed horrified at the thought of more of these, strange things.

The headmaster sighed. " Theoretically he could have split his soul into infinite pieces."

Albus Dumbledore's sentence shook him. ' You can split your soul?' The thought both repulsed and interested him. As far as he knew, not much was known about the volatile magic.

All he knew of soul magic was the toll it could sometimes take on its practitioners.

" What about receptacles, then? Could they be anything?" His godfather seemed to have regained a bit of his composure and pushed the conversation forward.

" Not much is known about horcruxes." The elderly man started. " What we do know is that the soul cannot live in a magically bereft environment." Dumbledore continued. " Both Ravenclaw's Diadem and Slytherin's locket contained an enormous amount of latent magic, allowing a remnant of Tom's soul to survive."

Sirius looked at the man thoughtfully as he recognized Voldemort's obvious pattern. " Is it your belief that Voldemort used heirlooms of the founders?"

Albus looked at a space behind Sirius for a long moment before responding. " It is my belief that Voldemort likely used items of considerable importance to him; what those items are, I do not know."

The memory ended soon after that, and the two teens found themselves back in the warm library of the Greengrass house.

He gave Daphne an odd look. "What was that?" He asked, curious about what she had seen during the memory.

Daphne looked slightly hesitant.

' Is she keeping something else from me?' He frowned at the unwelcome thought.

"A while ago I was watching Ophelia's memories and the word 'Horcrux' came up."

The admission immediately grabbed his attention and allayed his fears. "How was it used?" He asked in curiosity.

His tone seemed to catch her off guard, causing Daphne to relax.

' Am I really that explosive?' He found the thought unpleasant.

"Bellatrix Lestrange asked my Aunt about them sometime before she murdered her. My aunt seemed to have some knowledge regarding them, but she didn't go into details."

The information took him aback, and for the first time it occurred to him that digging into Ophelia's memories may hold value for both of them.

The insight wasn't exactly original; Ophelia Greengrass had been a notorious war criminal who trained another notorious war criminal; it would have been more surprising if the deceased woman had had nothing to offer him.

"Daphne, I think I need to see those memories."

Daphne paused, biting her lower-lip in consternation, an internal fire roaring within her; "I'll talk to my father."

He tugged at the charcoal hem on his dark purple, almost black robes nervously as he waited for Daphne.

If he were being honest with himself, outside of a couple "practice" dances, he hadn't spent much time considering the date with his girlfriend.

Where most of his classmates had spent hours agonizing over first dates with a classmate, Harry had dismissed such notions, what did he have to be nervous about? It wasn't as though this was the first time the pair were stepping out together.

Despite that, he was surprisingly, nervous at the prospect of taking Daphne out for such a formal, public evening.

From the corner an amused Alfred watched his internal struggle silently, seemingly content to watch him stew in his own nerves.

Needing something to take his mind off his impending date, Harry removed his wand, waving it silently as he checked over the wards surrounding the house.

The wards, he noted, were powerful, but not insurmountable; a determined adversary could break them within a few hours; while a more cunning wizard could simply be granted access by being escorted through the wards with any family member.

Despite their flaws, the wards provided the family with more than enough security should they need to flee on short notice.

The flames on the fireplace towards the back wall flashed a yellowish-green, leaving a calm-looking Draco Malfoy in its wake.

"Lord Greengrass." The blonde stated, a charming smile undercutting his overly formal tone, "thank you for allowing me into your home."

His classmate bowed to the older man eloquently, who affixed Malfoy with his own expressionless stare.

"Draco Malfoy." Alfred started impassively. "I expect to you act gentlemanly towards my youngest daughter."

Malfoy gave Alfred a sincere look, "I will, Lord Greengrass."

Malfoy turned to him next, offering him the same charming smile.

"Lord Potter. My condolences at your recent loss."

He kept his temper in check - while discussing Sirius's death with Daphne it had occurred to both of them that Lucius Malfoy - one of St. Mungo's most philanthropic contributors- could have means, opportunity, and motive to have Sirius Black killed.

The same could probably be said of a multitude of people, but the theory about what may have happened to his godfather wouldn't leave him alone, and the sight of Draco Malfoy had re-ignited his paranoia.

Harry's interactions with Draco Malfoy had been limited over the years - seemingly contained to suspicious glances and childish taunts; until the boy had shown an interest in Astoria, he had never even crossed his mind.

The boy's family had existed for hundreds of years, building their wealth through trade; first in France, before migrating across the channel in the later part of the 19th century.

The strong bloodline, and nearly unmatched familial wealth could have turned Draco Malfoy into a sniveling, pampered idiot - and it nearly had.

But despite the griping's of Ron Weasley, and some of the more boisterous Gryffindors; Draco Malfoy was not some idiot to be underestimated - spoiled, yes, but not an idiot.

The son of Lucius Malfoy was a snake, and he fully expected him to be the perfect gentleman in public, belying suspicion, right up until he wasn't.

"Thank you, Heir Malfoy."

He saw a flash of annoyance run through Malfoy's eyes - no doubt angry at the reminder of his current station - behind those eyes was a healthy amount of ambition, and he couldn't imagine the younger Malfoy liked being reminded that his father was the important Malfoy.

The trio sat quietly for several minutes longer until he heard two distinct pairs of heels echoing off the floor, causing him to look towards the doorway.

Astoria, in her emerald and silver dress, was the first to arrive, and matched Draco's own black, emerald, and silver robes nicely.

Astoria used her off hand to wipe a loose strand of curled, brown hair out of her eye, the silver bracelet on her wrist sparkling in the light.

"Don't you gentlemen look dashing!" She said with a flirty smile, before greeting her date with a kiss on the cheek, causing the boy to redden slightly.

To his credit, Draco seemed genuinely taken by the appearance of his date.

' Astoria thinks he is serious about her.' He remembered Daphne telling him.

As Astoria moved in to greet Malfoy, Daphne made her appearance known, and Harry felt his breath catch in his throat.

She looked beautiful in Madam Turney's dark purple and charcoal strapless dress, her straw blonde hair styled in an ornate bun.

As she walked slowly towards him in her narrow heels, he couldn't help but notice the diamond encrusted necklace she wore, drawing his eyes towards her chest.

His staring did not go unnoticed as Daphne closed the gap between them, greeting him with a soft kiss and a coy smile.

"Shall we?"

Arms still linked, Harry and Daphne exited the floo into Hogwarts rarely used Receiving Room.

The room was grand but understated. Decorated in dark woods and rich colors; the portraits, the gold and silver decorations that seemed to dominate Hogwarts, they were absent here, leaving the room uncommonly bare.

"They've really pushed the boundaries of magic with this room." Daphne muttered under her breath, causing Harry to nod in agreement.

Around them several hundred couples were chatting amicably without somehow feeling claustrophobic.

"Let's make the most of this." Daphne's voice carried a great amount of resignation as he let her lead him around the room.

As a pureblood, and a member of the 'Sacred 28,' Daphne had grown up with formal occasions such as the Yule Ball, and, according to her, only fools didn't take advantage of the opportunity to network.

"This way." Daphne said softly, leading him towards a gangly blonde in a pretty, light green dress accompanied by a slightly pudgy boy with black hair and a fat face.

"Longbottom?" He nearly whined. The Gryffindor was a bumbling idiot on the best of days.

"They're both Herbology prodigies and both their families have seats on the Wizengamot." She whispered.

And, like him, Longbottom would be taking his seat this summer - although it was expected that Augusta Longbottom would continue to vote on his behalf for the foreseeable future.

Also like him, Neville Longbottom had lost his parents to the brutality of Voldemort, all due to a few vague words spoken by a lunatic under duress.

It was incredible, he thought, the devastation those words had caused.

" The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

The words had dragged his parents - and Neville's parents - deeper into a war in which they were, at 19, already deeply entrenched in.

' It cost them all, everything.'

From time to time he wondered who had met a worse fate: Frank and Alice Longbottom, or his parents.

' At least Neville can visit his parents.'

The line of thought made him feel guilty, misery wasn't a competition.

Information like why the Potter's and Longbottom's were attacked, he had come to realize, was the most powerful weapon in war. The information didn't need to be accurate to be believed by everyone, all it needed was one person to find it valuable.

' At least Neville won't have a psychopath looming over him for the rest of his life.'

And he likely wouldn't. Neville, if he so chose, could spend the rest of his life growing stupid plants and shoving chocolate frogs down his gullet, maybe he and Hannah could settle down and make a whole future around their fat, ugly children and the gardens they'd maintain.

All because Tom Riddle had chosen him to be the subject of a false prophet.

The irony, he thought, of Voldemort choosing the half-blood as his equal.

' Would the Death Eaters abandon Voldemort if they knew of his hypocrisy?'

And with that thought, he envied the daft Gryffindor; the hapless boy would never have to spend his evenings engrossing himself in violence, wondering if he's the next target of a radical terrorist group.

Daphne was ignorant of his thoughts as she dragged him across the room, dressing herself in a brilliant smile that highlighted her unblemished face and softened her normally severe eyes.

"Hannah! Neville!" She cried out, more pleasantly than he had heard her speak in ages.

They spent the next twenty minutes bouncing around the room talking to anyone Daphne deemed appropriate.

The two had spent several minutes exchanging pleasantries with Susan Bones before moving on to Su Li, Michael Corner, and Cormac Mclaggen; it was when they were talking to Padma Patil and Ernie McMillan that they were interrupted by the confident voice of Septima Vector addressing the room.

"If all the students could make their way inside, the ball will begin shortly."

The Deputy Headmistress was dressed in all black robes, signifying her continued state of mourning.

He and Septima had had an awkward relationship since Sirius's death.

While classes were fine, he had found the handful of times they had been alone together to be awkward; neither, it seemed, had much to say to the other.

Their overly friendly relationship had grown out of necessity rather than desire - at least it had seemed that way at first. But Harry would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he had missed the frighteningly smart brunette beauty. Under her tutorship he had begun finding creative uses for all sorts of ward sets, as well as beginning to develop his own; his curiosity had allowed him to get close to his godfathers former fiancée, and he would be lying if he said he hadn't missed her insight and her companionship over such a difficult couple of weeks.

' I wonder how she's handling things.'

In all his anger and self-pity, he hadn't even considered what Sirius's fiancée was going through after such an untimely death.

From what he could see, Septima was barely keeping it together.

As the Deputy Headmistress finished her announcements, Harry and Daphne parted from Ernie and Padma, making their way through the thick double-doors of the Great Hall before quickly finding their seats with the Hogwarts dueling team.

The Receiving Room, he had noticed, hadn't been the only room at Hogwarts that had been pushed to its limits by magic.

Around the room hundreds of tables supported delegations from the tournaments three participating nations as well as a smattering of other officials from across the continent.

"I didn't realize how many people would be here." He commented to Daphne, whose eyes never left the room sprawled out in front of her.

"It's the social event of the year, Harry." She said in condescension, causing him to roll his eyes.

Their seats with the Hogwarts Dueling Team provided them with an uninhibited view of not only the dance floor, but the currently empty high table as well.

"Why do I get the feeling that everyone is staring at me?" He whispered towards Daphne, the expression on his face remaining neutral.

He could see his girlfriend's eyes dart subtly around the room quickly.

"Probably because they are."

Even if he hadn't been "The Boy-Who-Lived," regular old Harry Potter had done enough in his life to garner at least a little bit of attention; between the dueling tournament and various media reports in the Daily Prophet, he was a budding dark lord with near limitless resources, waiting to strike.

Almost instinctively Daphne started pointing out people with whom he should be familiar with.

"To the back and to the left." Daphne started, guiding his eyes towards a tall, red-headed woman in loose fitting light-blue robes. "That's Miranda Wallebee, she was just named as the new Ambassador to Australia last week."

She took his neutral grunt as encouragement, pointing out several more people as they gathered into the hall.

"That's Rory Whittingham." She said, directing his gaze to a short, stocky man with thin black hair who was gesticulating wildly do an unidentified woman. "He's in charge of transportation and the international floo network."

"Who's that behind him?" He asked curiously, gesturing towards the tall, handsome man who appeared to have several bodyguards, and was glancing around the room suspiciously, seemingly ignoring the man with a beard who was speaking with him.

Daphne furrowed her brow before her face undertook an annoyed look.

"Francis DuPont, French Minister of Magic."

He was mildly surprised to see the leader of magical France in a school, it seemed so… quotidian.

Standing behind him was an alluring Gabrielle Delacour, her honey blonde hair blending nicely with her form-fitting red dress.

She looked comfortable at the Beauxbatons Quidditch team table, chatting animatedly with her date as they waited for the evening to officially begin.

She caught his eye briefly, offering him a soft smile as she did so.

Their friendship had become rather complex since she had asked him to the Yule Ball, and he wasn't exactly sure where they stood.

"… And over there is Alexander Demitrov, the current Minister of Magic for Bulgaria."

Daphne's gaze directed him towards a different section of the room towards a tall, lanky man with hair cut close to his skull who was also surrounded by several bodyguards.

The man in black robes and sallow skin was standing alone at his table, eying his surroundings suspiciously.

"So that's who Lestrange has as her puppet?"

Daphne shrugged. "I haven't been following Bulgaria since the coup." She paused to consider her next words. "But if she does have influence over him, then we should avoid him at all costs."

He let things fall into a comfortable silence as the sound of conversation echoed throughout the room.

Sometime during his observations, the high-table had filled up with the champions, their dates, and the headmasters of the three schools; everyone, it seemed, appeared to be waiting on Dumbledore to begin his speech.

"Good evening everyone, and welcome to Hogwarts!"

Albus Dumbledore's speech was long-winded, and by the time he finished, most of the hall had politely finished their dinner, and were anxious for the champions and their dates to open the ball with a dance.

"How was your lamb?" He asked Daphne as Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang twirled elegantly in front of them.

"A little too well-done for my liking." She answered honestly as they waited for the first dance to finish. "How was the tenderloin?"

"Perfect." He answered, his gaze remaining on her as the champions finished their dance to the applause of the crowd.

Turning to Daphne, he offered her his hand and his most dazzling smile; "Daphne Greengrass, may I have this dance?"

The pair spent the next hour dipping and twirling around the hall, laughing and enjoying each other's company before they each took turns dancing with others.

"You're not a bad dancer." Daphne said some time later between a sip of punch. "You must have had a great teacher."

He smiled, pretending to contemplate her words.

"Lily was very thorough, yes."

She gave his arm a light swat, offering him a playful smile; "maybe you should dance with her for the rest of the night?"

"Maybe." He said, his voice trailing off as he noticed Snape skulking towards the doorway.

"What do you think Snape is doing?" He asked, changing the subject.

Daphne rolled her eyes; "who cares."

They stood quietly holding hands for several more minutes as their classmates mingled with ministry officials from all over Europe.

Out on the dance floor Terry and Marcie were dancing erratically to the frantic beat of the 'Weird Sisters' music, off behind them the Weasley Twins were encouraging them in their effort while recruiting others to join the frenzy.

Over on the far side of the room he noticed Ron Weasley talking glumly with Dean Thomas, and he felt his anger boil slightly, before subsiding into a contemplative depression.

Over the years he had come to accept that it was Ron and Dean more than anyone that bore responsibility for Hermione's death.

Their merciless mocking and vicious taunts had led to her fleeing the Charms classroom that fateful October day during first year.

' If she was alive, would I be here with her?' He often wondered how things would have played out had they not been interrupted by the troll.

' Would I still be with Daphne? Or would we just be classmates?'

He liked to think that if Hermione had been around the three of them would be the best of friends, three brilliant minds, tackling the world's problems together.

But comparing Daphne and Hermione was like comparing apples to oranges.

While they both accepted him and pushed him to be his best; the girls were fundamentally different people. Deep down he knew the uncomfortable truth; if it hadn't been for Hermione's death he wouldn't be who he was today.

A different question began to manifest itself in his mind; ' could I have gotten this far without Daphne?'

He felt the grip on his hand tighten, shaking him from his wanderings and bringing his mind back to the ball.

"If Blaise broke her heart, tonight of all nights, I'm going to kill him." Daphne growled.

Far off on the other side of the Hall Lily sat alone at a table with bloodshot eyes, and tear marks on her cheeks, crying alone.

Daphne made to go comfort her friend, but he stopped her; "let me talk to her." He said with a dashing smile.

Daphne contemplated his words, before giving him a resigned shake of her head - Lily seemed to be more open around him anyhow.

"Let me know if I need to kill Blaise."

' Henri is woefully boring.' She thought to herself, a smile plastered on her face as she chatted aimlessly with the older boy.

'… and he talks too loud.' She added as she furrowed her brow.

Gabrielle sighed as she gave up trying to eavesdrop on the Minister, and instead contented herself with half-participating in the conversation, and half observing the room.

"We haven't decided yet." She chimed in absentmindedly as Henri asked her about her family's summer plans.

Sensing she hadn't satisfactorily answered his question she added; "we normally do a couple of trips around the continent though."

Memories of the Almalfi Coast and afternoons splashing in the Mediterranean with Fleur flooded her mind as her eyes glided over the crowd, resting briefly on Harry Potter.

His eyes caught hers briefly, and she offered him a warm smile.

He looked good wearing dark purple robes and an easy smile that made his face light up, Gabrielle controlled herself as she felt the vestiges of a crush creep up on her.

' Lot of good that will do you.'

She didn't know where things stood between her and the British hero; they'd barely had a conversation since he had turned her down in November.

' Was it just an attraction?' Is that all she felt for Harry? Or was there something more?

When she was younger Fleur had abruptly stopped owling Marco, an Italian boy Fleur had met on the coast the summer before her third year at Beauxbatons.

At the time Fleur had explained to her that they both wanted different things, and that they had sort of just drifted apart.

' Is that what has become of me and Harry?'

She watched her sister, beautifully waltz around the room with some British boy who kept ogling her.

' Fleur deserves better.' She thought in disgust.

As the dancing couple turned towards her, Gabrielle noticed the displeased look on her sisters face as Roger Davies allowed his hands to roam a little too close to her waist.

He caught her sister glare at the boy before her look softened and landed on the pretty brunette who she knew had a close relationship with Harry.

Fleur eyed the older woman hungrily, causing Gabrielle to chuckle softly, Fleur was used to getting what she wants, it must pain her to be with that British brut.

Her small laugh caught the attention of her date, who took the opportunity to guide her to the dance floor.

They danced peacefully for a couple songs, during which, she noted, Henri's hands stayed firmly on the small of her back.

As the current song ended, she excused herself, taking the pause as an opportunity to go freshen up, allowing her a few minutes alone in an otherwise hectic evening.

A flash of dark hair darting passed her stole her attention, drawing her to a small table in the back corner.

She recognized the girl who had passed in front of her vision as one of Harry's friends.

Sensing her gaze, the girl looked up, catching her eyes with a vacant look.

The dark-haired girl's empty face caused her to shiver, but she offered the girl a small smile before heading off towards the lavatory, all the same.

The halls of Hogwarts were barren, except for the odd couple who were looking for a little more privacy, and she was able to get in and out of the bathroom in a matter of minutes.

Reaching a fork in the castle as she headed back towards the hall, Gabrielle paused as a familiar voice caught her attention.

"Lily, what's wrong?" A voice she recognized as Harry's rang out, his soft tone reaching her ears with ease.

Peaking a look around the corner, Gabrielle nearly jumped in surprise at his friends face; her empty expression from a few minutes prior replaced by a mess of tears and loose hair as she cried inconsolably.

Catching her breath, Lily's response was inaudible.

The slight rattling of a suit of armor momentarily stole her attention. Her lapse in concentration caused her to scold herself before she turned her attention back to the conversation in front of her.

The sight made her gasp loudly in astonishment; in the two seconds it had taken her to look over her shoulder, Harry Potter had disappeared.

She watched discreetly as her boyfriend led her crying friend out of the Great Hall, and to merlin-knows-where.

Despite her brain telling her otherwise, she felt slightly insecure about Harry being alone with her friend in such an intimate setting.

A setting where her friend was crying.

At a Ball.

She had been curious when Lily had told her she had shared a boat with the famous Harry Potter on their first-year journey to the castle.

Outside of a children's story, nobody had interacted with Harry Potter till that moment, and prior to first year she - like the majority of their year - had been curious to see if the boy matched the legend.

Daphne, like the rest of the first year Slytherins, had laughed as Lily told the tale of an awkward muggle raised Harry Potter in ill-fitting clothing.

And that would have been that, if he hadn't been so damn prodigious with a wand.

Rumors swirled, and people talked.

' Potter is an arrogant twat.'

' Potter thinks he's better than everyone.'

' Potter is a prodigy.'

It was the last compliment, the one she and Lily had overheard the late Professor McGonagall tell an equally exuberant Professor Flitwick that had seemed to spark a renewed curiosity within her friend.

Lily didn't come from much. Her parents weren't exceptional at any single thing and her family didn't have even as much as her own.

All Lily had was her blood.

But as a first-generation pureblood her name lacked the prestige necessary to garner the social benefits of being a pureblood.

It was Lily's inferiority complex that drove her to seek out such a powerful friend; it was hormones that drove her to develop a crush.

One she thought had subsided.

With this on her mind, Daphne followed the pair out of the Great Hall, and into the rest of the school

For what felt like the hundredth time she thanked merlin she had remembered to silence her shoes as she crept away from the passionate couple she had come across in her pursuit of Harry and Lily.

' Get a room!' Daphne thought as she paused to orientate herself.

Closing her eyes for a long moment, she heard a male's voice not too far off in the distance, followed by what she thought was crying.

As the voices got louder her jog came to a slow walk before she perched herself behind a suit of armor.

"… it's Blaise, Harry; it's like he didn't even care!" Lily wailed.

Disillusioning herself, Daphne stuck her head out from behind the armor to get a better look.

She nearly snorted as she got a look of Harry's face; ' he has no idea what to do.' She thought in amusement.

Her amusement was killed a half-second later as she got a look of her friend.

Fresh tear tracks ran down her sunken face, her body language making her look vulnerable, while her blood-shot eyes looked lifeless - as though she was a marionette in someone's game.

Lily's bracelet slipped off of her wrist, falling to the ground with a clatter.

Noticing that his friend had dropped her jewelry, her boyfriend bent over, wrapping his fist around the shiny, gold bracelet.

Only to disappear in an instant.

A loud gasp shook her from her own shock.

Standing about forty meters beyond where Harry had been was a familiar girl in a tight, confident red dress and braided honey-blonde hair.

Lily immediately turned on the French witch; "Avada Kedavra!" She shouted.

Delacour was so shocked she wasn't even attempting to move.

' What the actual fuck?' Daphne thought as she desperately summoned the witch over to her, saving her life as she narrowly avoided Lily's killing curse.

Her disillusionment charm must have failed, because when Lily looked at her, there was a momentary look of confusion on her face as if she was fighting an internal battle.

' What the hell is going on?' She thought frantically.

Seeming to have made up her mind, Lily hurled another killing curse, this time towards her.

Daphne hastily conjured a brick wall, which was immediately decimated by the force of the curse.

' Stupefy, expelliarmus, stupefy!' She thought in rapid succession, desperate not to hurt her friend.

' What the hell is going on?' She repeated to herself.

When they were twelve years old Lily watched her brother, Damian kill a rabbit while the three of them had been playing in the family garden; Lily was so upset at what her brother had done that she didn't speak to him for a week.

The Lily she knew wouldn't be acting this way.

"You can't escape me Greengrass!"

Her friend's voice sounded melodic, as if she was a vessel for someone else's words.

"Crucio!" Lily cackled as the blood-red spell jetted from her wand, hitting Daphne square in the chest.

Daphne screamed as she felt as though her flesh was being torn from her bones.

' You've prepared for this.' She thought, thinking back to several brutal sessions where she forced Harry to use the unforgivable on her.

" There is no blocking the Cruciatus Curse with magic." Professor Tonks had told them during their lesson on the Unforgivables at the beginning of the year.

" If you find yourself on the receiving end of the spell, your only hope is to maintain focus, many witches and wizards turn to a technique called occlumency…"

She called upon her occlumency shields and focused as she felt the shields jump into place, allowing her surroundings to come back into vision.

She saw a jet of blue light fly out from behind her, and the spell ended, right as she was crawling towards her wand.

' Thanks for the distraction, Delacour!'

"B-bombarda!" Daphne yelled out, her voice uneven from the pain.

Lily dodged her weak attempt with a sick smile, raising her wand to return fire.

Before a spell could leave her lips, and hazy as if in a dream, Daphne heard footsteps approaching from behind her, and instantly saw Lily's face contort into a snarl before settling into a menacing, determined smile.

Fingering her wand with her long fingers, Lily raised her wand slowly, pointing it at her temple.

" Avada Kedavra!" Lily said before dropping lifelessly to the floor.

He barely had time to register the distinct tug at his navel before his head erupted in a tidal wave of pain.

He heard a soft humming -as though another portion of his soul was awakening, desperate to make itself known- in his ears as he emptied the contents of his dinner onto the blurry rooms hard floor.

" Interesting." He heard a seemingly long-off voice annunciate.

" Something seems to be causing the boy an immense amount of pain." The same curious voice with a French accent continued.

Harry felt the pressure building in his forehead, scratching at the front of his skull as though desperate to escape through his scar.

" What isss wrong with him masssster?" A hiss from his left chimed in.

He took a deep breath, trying to find his bearings. For the first time since he started lessons with Snape, Harry felt grateful for the man's sadism as he worked through the pain, concentrating on his occlumency shields.

He felt the throbbing subside slightly in his head as his vision came back into focus.

He was in a well-lit, sparsely decorated, windowless room, surrounded by several people.

"I don't know, my friend." A somewhat familiar voice responded.

Harry looked towards the source of the voice.

' What the hell is Crouch doing here?' The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was eying him with amusement.

His emerald eyes slowly made their way across the room, glancing over Crouch; a small, fat man with mousy features, and an unfamiliar man with wild, dark hair before briefly resting on… Professor Snape?

"Marcel, is he supposed to be glowing?" Crouch asked an ancient wizard with long, graying hair.

" Massster, can I eat?" Harry glanced towards the hissing voice to his left and was surprised to see an extremely large snake staring at him hungrily with beady eyes.

' There's another parselmouth in this room.' He realized.

"It is interesting, my lord." The French wizard replied, a tone of giddiness in his voice. "I can run some tests, if you'd like."

"Yes." Crouch replied with confidence.

' Voldemort.' He thought, a feeling of panic overwhelming him. A few decades ago, a young Tom Riddle had become the most famous parselmouth since Salazar Slytherin.

Which meant the snake was Nagini.

After his fourth year Riddle had paid a visit to the old Gaunt family home, only to come across a six foot long Boa Constrictor who had told him to call her Nagini.

It had taken years for Riddle to learn the truth - the snake, a former circus performer - was a Maledictus - a curse she had carried on from her mother, whose husband had insulted the wrong man - that had run away from home in her youth, only to return in the final years of her life.

Voldemort had become obsessed with that snake.

' What the hell?' He thought with a panic, trying to piece together how he had found himself in this foreign room.

' I was talking to Lily…'

And then it all clicked into place; the odd questions over the last few months, the vacant stares, the internal struggle that seemed to be ever-present in her eyes, and finally, the silver bracelet - now laying haphazardly off to the side- transporting him here.

' How did I miss the signs?' It all seemed so obvious now, after-the-fact.

Had he really been so self-absorbed that he hadn't noticed how much trouble his friend was in?

A feeling of shame pushed its way through his fear and panic.

" Soon, Nagini." Voldemort replied to the snake who was still eying him hungrily.

Harry tried to move but found himself frozen.

' Petrificus Totalus.'

He was petrified, but still conscious - cognizant of the perilous situation he suddenly found himself in.

"There's no escaping, Harry." Crouch exclaimed with a twisted smile hanging from his lips. "You will die in this room."

The statement brought with it a new wave of panic - this wasn't a dueling platform at the Triwizard Tournament, or even a practice battle with Snape, Moody, or Tonks; he would die in this room, and all his efforts would be in vain.

A cackle of laughter drew his attention to a previously unseen, pretty black-haired woman wearing jet-black robes who had been standing off in the corner.

' Tonks?' He thought with a sense of alarm. ' What's she doing here?'

Mentally he shook his head. The woman in front of him was too old to be Tonks.

' Bellatrix Lestrange.' He thought, his blood running cold at the thought of being alone in a room with her and Voldemort.

' What the hell is going on?'

Daphne's obsession eyed him predatorily, a cruel smirk on her dangerous face.

"Severus, Bellatrix." Crouch's firm voice commanded.

His potions professor and the psychotic witch stepped forward, nodding their heads slightly in respect.

"Do not fail me."

Both Death Eaters gave Voldemort a second nod before disappearing with a crack.

' He hasn't warded against apparition.'

He thought victoriously, a sliver of hope began to form in his head as Harry silently thanked his godfather for teaching him how to apparate at an irresponsibly young age.

' If I could only move.'

"The glowing, my Lord."

Crouch turned back towards the excited French wizard.

"It appears you made the boy an accidental horcrux."

Voldemort turned his attention back towards him, eying him curiously.

"Interesting. Will he survive the ritual?"

His voice carried a genuine curiosity, and for a moment Harry glimpsed Tom Riddle, the prodigious half-blood orphan.

"I do not know, my Lord." The elder wizard stated; he too appeared genuinely curious at his current predicament.

Voldemort deliberated calmly for a long moment.

"Marcel, Augustus." The French wizard and the lanky wizard with mangy dark hair gave Voldemort their full attention.

' Augustus Rookwood.' He thought, his mind returning to his last conversation with Sirius.

"Let's begin."

The French wizard gave Voldemort a slight nod before removing a silver dagger.

The man sauntered over to him, an eager smile on his wrinkled face.

A flick of his wand conjured a plain, wooden table before setting Harry on it lightly.

"You know, boy. You may be the most interesting specimen I've had."

He got the feeling the other wizard felt he should be honored.

"Do not forget, my lord. His corpse is mine."

Harry desperately tried to break free of the curse to no avail as the necromancer removed a dagger with a dragon hide handle.

"Mithril, boy." He continued conversationally, the blinding bright light reflecting off the fine blade.

"Only the best for you."

The knife sliced his flesh cleanly as the French wizard carved unfamiliar patterns into his torso.

He felt no pain as the blood trickled down his skin.

"The objects, please."

He saw Rookwood hand the French wizard - Marcel, several objects, before his scar ruptured in pain once more.

" Release me."

A voice called from the back of his mind, as an unfamiliar force pounded against the back of his forehead like a battering ram trying to break through his skull.

" Release me."

The voice called again, before pounding against his head again.

This time he felt his skull break and the pain suddenly stopped, the world coming clearly into view.

"Interesting." A voice with a light French accent called out, drawing his attention back to his reality.

He saw Marcel jot something down in a small journal before returning his attention towards Harry.

In front of him he saw a dark entity floating in front of him.

' A piece of Voldemort's soul." He studied the horrific shade closely for a long moment.

"Magnificent, isn't it Harry?" Voldemort's soft voice commanded his attention.

And suddenly he found himself able to speak, the petrification charm having been replaced by ropes.

"Yes." He answered honestly, fully aware that he was exchanging words with a maniac.

"Wormtail."

Voldemort's words made his blood boil as the pudgy man with ratty hair made himself known.

"Harry Potter meet Peter Pettigrew, the man who killed Sirius Black."

' Him.' He thought, red with rage.

' The man who betrayed my parents also killed my godfather.'

He felt his magic surge, breaking free of the ropes momentarily, only for them to be reapplied.

Sirius deserved better.

He eyed the rat bastard murderously.

"Before you kill me, allow me to kill him." He said.

He noticed the other people in the room eye him in shock.

" Masster he speaksss."

Voldemort turned to the snake.

" He does. Leave us, Nagini."

Voldemort eyed him carefully, as if considering his request.

"My snakes had told me you were more like me than Dumbledore." He began, an amused smile at his lips. "And while I'm tempted to grant your request, I need Wormtail alive."

At his proclamation, the traitor took the French wizards dagger hesitantly before he began to carve deeply into his left arm with the serrated blade.

Blood splattered throughout the room as the bastard cried out in pain as he slowly cut through muscle and bone, sloppily removing his own arm.

Undistracted by the gory display Rookwood and the French wizard chant loudly as the cup, the ring, and the shade hovering in front of him began to glow a light blue.

The chanting picked up as two separate entities began to emerge from the horcruxes in front of him.

As they emerged, the shade in front of him began to race around the room frantically as a fourth entity began to emerge from the body of Bartemius Crouch.

The shade from his scar was joined in its erratic journey around the room by the three other fragments, as though they were chasing each other.

He felt the magic saturating the air begin to churn as the lights petered out in the room.

As the chanting stopped, the four shades began to coalesce, swirling together in a hauntingly beautiful display.

As Marcel removed his wand, Augustus Rookwood began combining ingredients - including the blood drawn from Harry and the arm that was offered by Pettigrew - into a beautiful golden cauldron before adding a final vial of blood.

As the fractured souls in front of him continued to come together off to the right of him; Rookwood and the French wizard were crafting a Frankensteinian monster in front of him.

Tall and handsome with pale skin and dark black hair, the golem in front of him stared off expressionlessly, an empty husk.

"He's beautiful." The elder wizard stated in wonder; circling his creation, eying it from every angle.

Off to the side the spirits had calmed, becoming one.

The elder necromancer began chanting rapidly, waving his wand wildly as he did so, directing the unstable soul into the golem in front of him.

After several long moments, the lifeless eyes of the husk blinked twice rapidly before the irises began glowing a bright red, its face coming to life as a smile formed on its handsome face, exposing a set of flawless teeth.

Voldemort was alive.

He scratched his chin in thought - an old habit he had picked up from Gellert during one of their many intense debates decades prior - as he only half-heartedly paid attention to the man in front of him.

"I understand your concern, Igor. But I cannot consent to allowing Durmstrang to punish Hogwarts students, no matter how enthusiastic you may be."

' Either I'm going senile.' He smiled in amusement - while his body may have been decaying, his one hundred and twenty-year-old mind had never been sharper. ' Or we've had this conversation before.'

It would appear that Fred and George Weasley had taken advantage of the opportunity to market their products to their foreign guests; and while he had to applaud their entrepreneurship, it was the manner in which they were marketing their products that the man in front of him took issue with.

"I must object, Albus!" Igor stated, in what he assumed was his most menacing demeanor; "if 'ogwarts won't do anything about the red devils, Durmstrang must!"

The headmaster of Hogwarts worked to contain a snort at Igor's nickname for the Weasley twins and was debating ways to pass the information along to them when his eyes met Severus's as the younger man slipped out of the Great Hall.

A nearly imperceptible nod - a gesture he had only picked up after years of working with the crafty spy - was all the information he needed.

"I will write to their mother, Igor." He replied with a chuckle, having no intention of subjecting the boys to the ire of Molly Weasley; "she will talk some sense into them, I'm sure of it."

Albus then excused himself, ignoring those vying for his time as he made his way towards Nymphadora, who was monitoring the punch bowl off to the far side of the hall.

"Nymphadora, I believe your shift is over."

The young warrior nodded sharply at the prepared dismissal before making her way to the door.

It had been a pleasant surprise to learn that Harry had taken the initiative to form his own alliances, and the information regarding Tom's plans for Amelia had been the result of the boy's uneasy truce.

After the information had been verified by Severus, unbeknownst to anyone but himself, he had proactively moved Amelia to a safe house along the coast of Wales.

Seeing Minister DuPont and his wife alone several meters away, Dumbledore offered the man a warm smile; "Minister DuPont! Hogwarts is honored to host you and your wife this Yule!"

Albus spent the next half hour milling around the hall, speaking to whomever caught his fancy till he felt something warm in his left-breast pocket.

Tonks and Moody were in position.

The plan wasn't overly complex, relying primarily on the element of surprise as opposed to some grand display of strategy.

Ten minutes after Tonks had delivered her message he caught Severus entering the hall once more, a slightly frantic look in his eye as he made his way towards him.

A flick of his wrist erected some privacy wards as Severus delivered the news.

"He's back." Was all his potions professor stated before walking off.

The announcement wasn't a surprise to Albus, he had been expecting as much, ever since William had followed Augustus Rookwood to Little Hangleton.

Excusing himself from the hall, Albus took a handful of passages to quickly retreat to his office.

Without breaking pace he walked past the shelves of trinkets and prying portraits towards the fireplace before grabbing a handful of floo powder and shouting out the correct address.

He only had to wait several seconds before a tall man with long, curly red hair answered his call.

"Headmaster." There was no surprise in Williams's voice, only a calm reassurance, as if he had been expecting his visit.

Not for the first time Albus felt optimistic about William and Nymphadora's future leading the Order.

"William, it's time."

The young man stepped aside, allowing him through the fireplace and into the man's elegant townhome in the upscale Whisper Alley.

William's walls were adorned with pictures of his family, causing the headmaster to smile brightly at the bond the young man shared with those he loved.

Arthur and Molly beamed with pride whenever they spoke about their eldest son.

" One of ten, Albus! Bill was one of only ten applicants in Europe to be accepted into Gringotts curse-breaking program!"

Arthur had been right to be proud, the job was one of the most prestigious - and lucrative - professions in the country.

Contrary to popular belief, curse-breaking was so much more than ward schemes, arithmancy, and dark curses.

Curse Breakers traveled the world, examining ancient schemes as they desperately tried to unleash the secrets they protected, then they developed new schemes that would allow safe passage, and while that was a large part of their job, it wasn't their only responsibility.

Curse-breakers were much more than that - they dealt with wildlife, indigenous tribes, managed conflicts within their own teams, negotiated contracts, and ensured the safety of not only their own teams, but of the treasure they were contracted to find as well.

The physical, mental, and sociological training involved in becoming a Gringotts Certified Curse Breaker had earned William Weasley a twenty five year contract with the bank, after which he would be free to take on his own clients.

Curse Breakers were part businessman, part mercenary, and part team leader; a combination that made them exceptionally capable in just about any situation.

For Bill to accomplish that feat before the age of thirty was almost unheard of.

Albus grabbed the tall man by the shoulder, and a second later - they were gone.

Voldemort's long, dark wand seemed to vibrate lovingly as the newly re-incarnated dark lord took a moment to inspect the instrument that had brought the world so much misery.

"It has been well maintained." The dark lord said, a hint of approval in his tone.

"Yes, my lord. Lucius anticipated your return, and insisted that your wand remain maintained to your standards at all times."

Voldemort held his wand chest high, shutting his narrow eyes for a long moment.

The magic that saturated the air was intense and calm, filling the room with a sense of foreboding.

"He will be rewarded."

"Marcel." Voldemort started, turning his head to the elder French necromancer. "Were you able to learn anything from our accidental horcrux?" He asked, acknowledging his presence for the first time.

The thought that he had spent the first fourteen years of his life as one of Voldemort's horcruxes had shattered his confidence.

' Who am I?'

His entire character had been defined by his intellectualism, tenacity, and competence; even when he lived as a muggle, he had prided himself on how clever he was, how superior he was intellectually.

Had that all been a lie? Had the horcrux living within him come to dominate and define who he had become?

"No, my lord." The French wizard eyed him hungrily. "It will take some study to come to any sort of conclusion."

Voldemort seemed to weigh his options internally before coming to some sort of decision.

"You have five minutes, Marcel, accomplish what you can."

The necromancer made to protest before he began waving his wand in a precise manner around the room.

"You fascinate me, Harry Potter." Voldemort started, addressing him for the first time.

"You're too smart to not have noticed the similarities between us?"

Harry smiled savagely at the opportunity Voldemort had provided him with.

"The fact that we are both orphans? Or perhaps it's the fact that we're both half-bloods, isn't that right, Tom?"

His words didn't seem to have the desired effect as Marcel's wand didn't stop moving, while Rookwood, and even Wormtail showed no visible reaction to his revelation.

Voldemort offered him a pitiful smile; "were you expecting more of a reaction, Harry?"

He had, in fact been expecting more of a reaction.

' Voldemort's followers knew his history?' Or was it just the inner circle?

"But yes, we have a similar heritage. But we share more than that."

He didn't need the dark lord to explain further; their aptitude for magic, the fact that they were both parselmouths, even their attitudes - if Tom Riddle's diaries were accurate - were similar.

"I've been very impressed, Harry, with your performance in the tournament."

The memory of seeing Crouch throughout the tournament shot through his mind.

' He's been everywhere.' The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had access to every part of the ministry, it was impossible to tell who Voldemort may have recruited.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the show." He found himself responding, a tone of casual defiance laced his voice.

He grimaced uncomfortable as Marcel continued to run tests on him.

"Tell me, Harry. How far were you able to venture into Salazar's Chamber?"

His question seemed genuine, as if the pair were continuing a conversation they had had some time earlier.

The fact that Voldemort knew that he knew of the Chamber of Secrets terrified him as he tried to calm himself.

"Not far."

And he hadn't, something he had been meaning to rectify.

' Was he watching me? Or the Chamber?'

"Do you have any advice?"

' Or both?'

His flippant response caused Voldemort to smile savagely.

"None that you will need."

Rookwood interrupted their banter to whisper in Voldemort's ear, causing him to smile in what looked like anticipation.

"I'm afraid your time is running out, Harry Potter." Voldemort said as the ropes binding his wrists disappeared.

"I'll allow you one last duel, Harry Potter."

With that, Voldemort smiled charmingly at Rookwood. "Don't let anyone say I'm not a benevolent Lord."

Released from his binds with his wand in his hands, Harry smiled internally.

' Voldemort made a mistake.'

Harry shut his eyes and immediately visualized the apparition point at Diagon Alley, calming himself he let his magic wash over him, willing his body to move to the dingy alleyway right outside of Gringotts.

He felt his magic hit a harsh barrier, causing him to open his eyes abruptly, much to the amusement of Voldemort.

"You don't have the right mark to leave this room, Harry." Voldemort chided. "It's time to accept your fate."

With barely a flick, spells were hurled at him at an incredible rate, causing him to dodge deftly throughout the room.

In front of him Voldemort threw his head backwards in laughter as he continued to fill the room with the light of spell fire.

' I have to get out of here.' He thought in a panic as he batted away a blood-boiler.

His opponent took pity on him, stopping the onslaught momentarily, allowing him to return fire.

Quickly he filled the room with a bright light before casting a bubblehead charm on himself before conjuring a thick, poisonous smoke in the small room.

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction he pointed his wand at the brick wall before unleashing the most powerful blasting charm he knew.

Filling the air with dust and rubble, he hustled his way through the large opening and out into the elements.

The freezing rain from earlier had turned into a heavy snow, severely decreasing his visibility as he tried to trek his way past the wards.

From behind him he heard laughing.

"You can't run from fate, Harry Potter!" The cackling voice of Voldemort rang out through the wind and snow.

From his peripherals he saw a deadly green curse flash over his shoulder as he felt the panic begin to rise in his chest.

' Just a little further.' He thought to himself as he zigged and zagged towards where he thought the property ended.

He dodged again, forcing him back towards his right and into the way of a curse.

He felt the bones in his legs splinter and break the surface of his skin, causing him to howl in pain as he collapsed to his knees.

' Just a little further.' He thought desperately as he tried to crawl towards the edge of the property.

A closer-than-expected laugh caused him to look up.

Not ten meters away stood Voldemort wand raised, the maledictus at his side.

A booming noise to the west stole his attention, causing him to sigh in relief at the sight.

Making their way towards him was Albus Dumbledore, in the same ridiculous bright purple robes he was wearing to the Yule Ball, battling a half dozen masked men with a calm ease, flanked by a tall well-built man he recognized as Bill Weasley, who was spewing fire from his wand, directing it at a hoard of inferi.

The repeated explosions captured Voldemort's attention as well, causing him to abandon his pursuit of Harry to take care of the greater threat.

The dark lord stared longingly at him for several seconds before giving Nagini his attention.

" Kill him." Voldemort stated before floating off towards Albus Dumbledore.

The gigantic snake turned towards him, hissing menacingly as it deftly dodged his increasingly desperate onslaught of spells.

' What do I do?' He thought to himself.

Without a drastic action, he was dead in under a minute.

The realization calmed him, causing him to reflect on a conversation he had had with Snape several weeks prior.

" Balls of flame, Potter?" The mocking tone of his potions master butted its way through his head. " I hope you're never in any real danger."

The spell that had got him disqualified from the battle wouldn't be good enough here, he thought as the serpent made to lunge at him.

Conjuring a thick granite wall to buy himself some time, Harry took a deep breath before turning his attention back towards the threat at his forefront.

He had never attempted to summon the hellfire, and had only read the theory of the incredibly dangerous spell.

' Desperate times.' He thought as he cleared his head of doubt.

" Fiendfyre!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

The cursed flame erupted from his wand, melting the granite and the snow around him as he struggled to contain the flames.

He felt sweat drip down his worn face as he attempted to direct the fire towards the massive snake that was now fleeing in the opposite direction.

And for a second he was in complete control; wielding the legendary flame with a sense of confidence.

That confidence disappeared as he felt his control fade as the flames broke free, finding its way into the graveyard that adorned the outer edges of the snow-covered property.

All the while Nagini slithered in a desperate attempt to avoid the inevitable.

With the fire closing in, the snake let out one last desperate cry; " MASTERRR!" It pleaded as the flames began to engross its tail.

An otherworldly scream broke through the air, causing the other combatants to stop and watch in astonishment as a familiar black shade tried to escape from Nagini, only to be enveloped in the cursed flames.

Two screams simultaneously filled the air as the fragment of Voldemort's soul was joined in its agony by the man himself.

"HARRY!" He heard through the screaming, causing him to look up in surprise at Bill Weasley, who was tossing him his necklace.

Without thinking, Harry snatched the necklace out of the sky, causing him to relax as he felt the familiar tug of a portkey pull at his navel.

Bellatrix walked purposefully from the room, knowing that the next time she saw her lord he will have finally regained his body after fourteen long years.

The thought brought her a sense of peace.

Young Bellatrix Black had never found the appeal in Andromeda's novels or Narcissa's frilly dresses - her Uncle Arcturus had seen to that.

To cope, she had sought pleasure in the destructive nature of magic - locking herself away in one of her ancestral homes spell rooms for hours on end with the goal of destroying the protective wards surrounding the room.

Her childhood came to a head when she had nearly killed her Uncle when she was twelve.

She had finished the deed at his Italian lake home when she was fifteen.

Reaching the apparition point, she disappeared silently, reappearing a half second later in a small rectangular room adorned with rich mahogany.

"Dolohov, Carrow" she snapped, drawing the attention of the sadistic man and the pair of unhinged twins in front of her. "What sort of protections surround the property?"

Dolohov was the most competent member of the trio, but it was the destructive, mindless, mayhem offered by the Carrow twins that would keep any opposition at bay.

After the incident when she was twelve, her father had sent her to Ophelia; and although the old bitch was dead, she found herself reciting the witch's pre-battle checklist.

"Gringotts wards, but not top of the line, Eggers says." Alecto began.

"Lady Bones finds the top of the line precautions to be too rigid for her busy life." Amycus butted in, finishing the explanation for his sister.

"Her desire for comfort will cost her her life."

The twins laughed in unison at her little barb and she motioned for Dolohov to give his update.

"Damocles is on duty tonight, he has confirmed that Amelia Bones has not left her house since last evening."

Bellatrix nodded sharply.

"What are our numbers?"

"Including the four of us we have twelve."

The numbers weren't ideal, but with her and Antonin leading the charge, they wouldn't be lacking in skill.

"Amycus, Alecto."

Power - that's what drove loyalty. Whether serving someone more powerful, or the promise of obtaining power for oneself did not matter - the hungry looks on the troll-like twins in front of her were proof of that.

"What is your team's role?"

Ophelia's checklist was for the officers, not the general; her mentor had taught her.

" Make them remind you of the details. If they cannot recite them, they are not ready for battle."

As she continued with her inquisition, Bellatrix found her mind wandering towards her old mentor.

Grindelwald's brutal General, more than even her lord, was responsible for who she had become.

Not for the first time Bellatrix found herself chiding her younger self for being so reliant on the older woman, for revealing so much.

' I'll have to accelerate my plans.' She thought with a frown as Alecto finished her report.

"Stick to the plan." She finished, signifying the end of their conversation, before disapparating with a near-silent *pop.*

Bill paused suddenly, his face taking on a decidedly more cautious look as he waded through some of the more interesting ward structures he had ever come across.

"What's the matter, William?"

The redhead smiled cockily, there was something about the legendary Albus Dumbledore using him as a subject matter expert that cracked through his humble nature.

The timely question allowed him a moment to clearly examine each rune and ward.

' Don't forget to annunciate this time, Bill!'

After he was nearly killed while writing notes in his journal in Mexico, he had invested in a pensieve at the recommendation of a colleague.

Unfortunately, he often forgot to explain the wards in detail out loud, forcing him to re-decipher them when he revisited the memories later.

"The wards are quite exotic."

If he was being honest with himself, the way in which Voldemort combined two distinct ward structures to create one extremely deadly structure was beyond impressive. The patience required to determine the arithmancy for such a volatile combination would be difficult to duplicate.

"There are four similar strands I can break down."

All wards had a failsafe in order to keep out intruders it was common to have a couple of false runes, that when touched, would alert the owner of the wards, or injure the intruders.

"These three strands." He pointed to the ugly mustard yellow and black rune structures. "Will torture the intruder to death."

The death wouldn't be quick either; lasting anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour.

Dumbledore scratched his beard thoughtfully.

"Tom always had a thing for the dramatic." The headmasters tone was casual, as if they were discussing transfiguration over tea. "What about the fourth rune set?"

Bill grimaced; the sadistic bastard had included torture as part of the failsafe as well.

"To unravel it, I must pass a test."

Albus grimaced. "Am I to assume it will cause you some pain?"

He nodded at the understatement before taking a deep breath.

"Yes."

The elder man nodded sagely before allowing him to continue.

He waved his wand slowly, and with a bit more caution than was normal for him, finding himself a little less interested with the task at hand than he had a few minutes earlier.

Bill felt the pain building in his body as he worked; first as a dull ache when he disabled the outer set of runes, then as an unbearable stabbing as imaginary daggers punctured his body, making it hard to focus and harder to breath as he disabled the slightly more complicated middle runes.

He clamped down on his occlumency as he grinded his teeth - it was too late now, if he quit, the wards were likely to kill him.

He felt his mind beginning to rebel as he dropped to his knees in agony.

Fighting through the pain, Bill wiped the sweat from his brow, and in a moment of clarity moved to disable the third and final rune set.

Disabling the first rune, he felt the ground shake slightly.

' Shit.'

"They know we're here." His voice sounded weak as he forced the words out.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered Dumbledore's worried face as he took on his dueling stance.

Forcing his mind to work, he hastily disabled the last ward, causing the earth to moan in response.

The pain disappeared a moment later, leaving him slightly sore.

A loud explosion caught his attention.

"There's no time to waste, William." the wizened older wizard said conversationally as he began to move.

"I believe Mr. Potter needs our help."

Upon landing in the shin-deep snow, she immediately cast a quick warming charm on herself, followed by a spell to keep the snow out of her face.

The spell work did nothing for Bellatrix's vision, however, causing her to sigh in frustration, forcing her to call out to the rest of the team verbally.

Upon hearing their responses, Bellatrix found her way over to a younger Death Eater with his mask removed.

Sensing her presence, the young man turned to face her.

"Five minutes, Lady Lestrange." He answered her unasked question with only the slightest hint of trepidation to his voice.

Off to the side, Amycus and Alecto Carrow were guiding four Death Eaters into position, while Antonin and his group of five had spread out to cover their perimeter.

"Good." She stated bluntly before stepping aside to wait in silence.

The minutes crawled by as the drums of war beat in her ears, strumming up her hibernating lust for battle.

She hadn't been this excited in years.

Her excitement was stymied by the look plastered over Eggers face.

"What's the matter?" She asked, peering over the younger man's shoulders, desperate to see what he saw.

"The wards have been altered."

The statement made her gut roar with caution.

"What does that mean?"

He swallowed hard; "we could be walking into a trap."

"Amycus!" She snapped, drawing the squat man's attention.

"Summon Damocles." She started, calling in reinforcements before the battle had even begun a hint of delight in her voice. "We are not alone here."

A brief look of fear crossed the ugly man's face, causing her to sneer in disgust.

' Cowards.'

She felt her anticipation build, even as her worry grew.

' Someone has betrayed us.'

The number of people who knew about this plan could be counted on one hand.

' Who would have the most to gain from my failure?'

She felt the wards fall, and although she couldn't see the mansion through the heavy wind and thick snowfall, she could picture the small castle and the gardens surrounding Bones manor well enough.

She observed as the Carrow's led their team through the wards and into the open fields that led to Bones manor.

' Idiots.' She thought as she cast disapparition and anti-portkey wards on the property, modifying them slightly so the Death Eaters could still escape if they needed to.

Upon entering the field, the Carrow's immediately found themselves under attack from both sides.

Silencing her boots, Bellatrix crouched down, her white robes making her hard to see in the snowy conditions, and slowly made her way towards the outskirts of the action towards where she knew the enemy to be lying in wait.

She frowned as she watched one of her Death Eaters take a killing curse square to the chest, before quickly seizing the opportunity by reanimating the recently deceased corpse and sending it back towards the enemy.

At about the same time she noticed a large ball of flames making its way towards the enemy's makeshift bunker.

It appeared Damocles and his small group of Aurors had arrived.

Bellatrix cackled in delight as she watched the enemy dive out of the way of the fireball, leaving them open to her attacks.

She flung killing curses haphazardly around the area, hitting several enemies before they had a chance to make out what was happening.

She was interrupted from her bliss by a dangerous looking maroon curse whizzing past her ear.

Turning towards the spells source Bellatrix smiled in delight.

' It's a family reunion!' She thought with glee.

"Nymphadora!" She cooed. "You've gotten so big!"

The ground beneath their feet began to tear apart as they made their way through the snow, and into the cemetery.

"Be prepared with fire spells, William." Dumbledore reminded him, his voice more alert than before. "Tom wouldn't let a perfectly good graveyard go to waste."

As if on cue a boney creature in tattered robes emerged from the thick snow.

Before the inferi had a chance to act, Dumbledore's flames engulfed the creatures, even as hundreds more started to encroach upon them.

At once he was in action, releasing a torrent of flame from his wand, directing them at the endless hordes of the undead.

"William, in front of you!" Dumbledore cautioned, his eyes never leaving the enemies in front of himself.

Bill felt a boney hand wrap itself around his ankle as the undead creature began to scratch and claw at his leg.

He released more fire, destroying the things around him, giving him a moment to take in his surroundings.

While the snowfall had come to a stop, the heavy wind was still whistling through the air, making it hard to see.

Some meters ahead he saw Dumbledore making his way towards Voldemort, who abandoned his fight with Potter to engage the headmaster, leaving the boy injured and alone with a massive boa constrictor lunging at him.

' He's overmatched.' He stated the obvious in his mind as he came to a conclusion.

Clutching the dragon tooth necklace dangling from his neck, Bill took off at a sprint, allowing his wand to clear a fiery path towards his target.

" HARRY!" He yelled to no avail as the boy conjured a marble wall.

' Shit.' He thought to himself, sensing the end.

He willed his body to move faster as the marble wall was destroyed, leaving nothing between Potter and the giant snake.

Emerging from the rubble, Potter pointed his wand at the beast still trying to attack him.

" Fiendfyre!" Potter yelled, his voice laced with venom.

The snake made no reaction as Potter's flame chased the it around the outskirts of the graveyard.

Raising his wand, Bill was about to help Potter when the cursed flame engulfed the giant serpent, causing it to scream in a high-pitched agony.

A black substance began to rise out of the snake, drawing the attention of the dark lord who was ferociously battling Dumbledore off to the side.

The substance desperately tried to escape the cursed flame, but the flame was winning as the substance slowly began to dissipate.

" HARRY!" He called out again, this time catching the boy's attention.

Tapping the dragon-tooth necklace lightly with his wand, he tossed the boy his emergency portkey, a sense of relief seemed to cross the boy's face as he disappeared a half-second later.

The atmosphere crackled violently as Voldemort screamed in rage at the loss of his snake.

Turning his full attention back towards the headmaster, the dark lord lashed out with a violent new attack, immediately forcing Albus on the defensive.

Voldemort appeared to be exchanging words with the headmaster as Dumbledore furiously backed up, doing the best to use his surroundings to repel the revived dark lord's relentless onslaught.

Dumbledore appeared to turn towards him, attempting to command him to do something.

Distance, wind, and snow seemed to kill out the headmasters command as Voldemort used the distraction to send a violent black disc towards the headmaster.

"THE WARDS!" He heard as the disc severed Dumbledore's wand arm from his body.

Not having a chance to chide himself on his obvious oversight, Bill set to work lowering the anti-apparition wards.

Feeling the wards holding him back dissipate, he saw Dumbledore grab his severed arm and disappear silently, leaving him alone with Voldemort.

Not wanting to stick around, Bill disappeared from Little Hangleton with a loud crack a half-second later.

Always feeling slightly more comfortable in the heat of battle, Alastor watched the scene around him quietly, content to let the younger members of the Order do battle with the Death Eaters while he hunted for members of Voldemort's inner-circle.

Seeing Tonks and her team engaged with Damocles and the rest of the Carrows, Moody stayed vigilant, looking for Antonin Dolohov and his team.

Using his glass eye to see through the storm, Moody observed the woods for body heat before smiling.

"Fifty meters into the woods!" He barked at his team. "There's another five of them."

While his team silently dispersed to take care of the threat, Moody guided Potter's flying carpet higher, hoping to catch the escaped Russian by surprise.

Moody's scarred face smiled a crooked smile as he caught sight of the dark-haired man who was disposing of one of the Order's youngest fighters.

' Shit.' He thought as he raised his wand, unloading a barrage of spells towards the Death Eater.

The coward shielded the first handful of spells desperately before his initial salvo broke through, battering the man with a barrage of bone-breakers, causing him to cry out in pain.

The man took his intact arm and began digging around in his pocket wildly as Moody closed the gap.

' Not today, motherfucker.' Moody thought as he unleashed a killing curse at the man who was now attempting to flee.

As the emerald green curse closed the gap between Moody and his target, Dolohov disappeared.

Her niece wore quality dueling robes - Horntail, if she was correct, and stood in a familiar crouch, causing her to smile in pleasant surprise.

Instead of responding, Nymphadora opened up with a multitude of complex spells aimed at ending the battle before it began.

Bellatrix smiled as she cast a bubble head charm on herself as the brat constricted the air around her, hoping to simultaneously choke her out and light her on fire.

With a wave of her wand Bellatrix found herself back on the offensive as she aggressively countered her niece's deadly attacks.

The pair danced in the heavy snow exchanging spell fire for nearly a minute, neither bothering with shields as they pressed to kill the other.

' She's mimicking my style.' Bellatrix thought, impressed despite herself.

Her opponent dodged nimbly before taking a bone piercing curse to the shoulder, the sacrifice saving her sternum from destruction.

Bellatrix frowned as none of her nieces attacks were coming close to their mark, robbing her of the challenge she deserved.

' She can't see me.'

Possibilities swirled in her mind as she re-applied the silencing charm on herself while evaluating her options.

Smiling cruelly, removing a silver dagger - a gift from her father - from its scabbard hidden on her thigh.

Quietly she watched from the shadows as her niece, illuminated by the moonlight, carefully scoured the area for signs of her.

"You can't hide from me forever, Aunt Bellatrix!"

She grinned inwardly as she approached the confident girl from behind, dagger raised.

"It's time we had a little -"

Her niece wasn't able to finish her sentence as Bellatrix's dagger sliced downwardly, right to left through the bitch's robes, splattering the snow with dark red blood.

Nymphadora let out a pained cry as she turned around sloppily in search of her.

"There's nothing to say, my dear." Bellatrix started as she circled her niece from the shadows once more, waiting for her to gather her wits before attempting another attack.

"I don't talk to the dead."

This time she attacked from the right, causing her niece's eyes to widen in shock as Bellatrix charged at her, her bloody dagger glistening in the moonlight.

Nymphadora fired off a killing curse, causing Bellatrix to cackle in laughter as she dodged to the left closing the gap between them, this time stabbing her niece in the abdomen.

Taking refuge in the shadows once more, Bellatrix found herself happier than she'd been in years as she prepared one last attack.

Twenty meters in front of her she watched as her prey struggled to remain upright, blood flowing from both of her wounds.

For years Andromeda had ignored her sister's pleas for help, allowing her to suffer at their Uncle's hand.

Maybe killing her only child would allow her sister to feel her pain?

Calmly she walked out of the shadows, a cruel smile on her lips as she walked towards the struggling witch in front of her.

"Goodbye, Nymphadora." She said before planting the dagger in the younger woman's chest and disapparating away.