Of Choices and Prophets part-3

Glen Coe, Lochaber. Otherwise known among the distant residents as the Bloody Glen. Covered by the mountains on either side, it reached almost an alpine-like grandeur. Its secludedness meant that even the most strictest of naturalists could not fail to be impressed.

It was one of the most beautiful places in Scotland.

But the glen has a notorious history too – it was here that 38 MacDonalds – including women and children – were massacred by their guests, on the orders of King William the first.

Butchered senselessly for the crime of being the lone family of witches and wizards living in the moor, helping their fellow humans when the plague hit.

A lot of blood had been spilt here and echoes still lingered, but it was notoriously hard to pin anything down. As a result, the place carried a distinct flow of magic in the air. One that many wizards since then had tried and failed to cleanse even after nine centuries had gone by.

It was also the place where he had taken his vows to forever love his beloved till his last breath left his body. The place where Hermione had accepted him, completely, with all his flaws and demons.

'…the place where she ceased being just herself and became something more…'

She became a part of him. His wife. The one he had vowed to protect with his very life. The very promise he was here to keep.

Harry stood on the edge of one of the cliffs in the glen, looking at the camp below.

It was exactly two hours ago that he'd had his clash against the blonde woman and thirty since he had left The Rookery after visiting Pandora Lovegood and sending Sirius a Messenger Patronus to meet him at the cottage after midnight.

These so-called Prophets had wrecked more than a few of his plans tonight. And some of them had been crucial as they involved contact with those he had no intention of ever going near…ever.

He had long before decided to limit the people in the know. It had been one of the few rigid parameters that he had agreed to follow in his hair-brained scheme.

Lovegoods hadn't been on the list. But not become he didn't trust them. It was rather the very opposite reason that he'd decided not to ask for their support in what was to become a very dangerous undertaking.

Luna had done more against the regime of Emperor Voldemort than many of the witches and wizards combined. And that included dozens of those who had lost their lives as spies within the forces that enforced the megalomaniac's laws.

She had sacrificed her everything just so the few remnants of the Resistance could have a chance to escape when the Hands of Emperor had cornered them in Dunedin.

His eyes still remembered her body, what little of it had remained. He would never forget what she had done for them…for him.

And so, he had sworn to himself that he would not involve her in his crusade if he successfully arrived back home, and by extension, her parents. She hadn't had the love of both of her parents in later years of her life and he had no intentions of being the one who took that away from her.

She had suffered much in death, he didn't have the strength to ask her for more.

And tonight…he had broken that oath.

It didn't matter that it was fear that had taken him to her mother's doorsteps. It didn't matter that it was his crippling terror of losing the woman he loved that had bent him.

He had still done it.

He had failed Luna…Again.

The night sky rumbled as the lightning in the clouds speared his thoughts with a thunderclap.

There were movements little ways down in the valley.

The oil lit lanterns were visible even from this distance as their fire wavered by the heavy winds swaying the fabric of the tents.

It was clear to him that this was a hastily put together setup. The tents were held together by thin wooden beams dug shallowly in the ground. Harry could see some people moving in and out of the flaps from the smaller shelters hollering to the two sentries on the far side of the camp.

'Sodding bastards.'

His blood boiled at the sight of the mark that he could see glowing on their arms even from his vantage point this far back.

The so-called Prophets of fate had ravaged the world with their mere presence when the Resistance had been at its last legs. There weren't many of them left anymore. And after years of brutality, there hadn't been a single soul alive apart from their motley crew who dared to raise their voice against the fiendish monstrosities that the Emperor and his Hand committed on a daily basis.

But even then, Voldemort had known he wasn't yet ready for the muggles.

And the Prophets had taken advantage of the silence.

Whispering doubts in the ears of those who had the power to sway the people at large, they had wrought wars where bonds of friendships had once sewn. Out of nowhere, floods of people with glowing marks of Ankh had ravaged the nations and no one, not even the witches and wizards had been able to stop them.

In it's truest sense, the end had begun then.

The Last Muggle War of 2012.

Blood-curdling screams of his people echoed in his ears as the littered bodies of dead witches and wizards flashed before his eyes and he squeezed them shut, unable to keep his fingers from gouging his palms with blood.

The pain brought clarity once more.

He couldn't fall apart now. Hermione was counting on him. He had to save her!

Wrenching his mind back to the present he focussed on the problem at hand. He was mere inches from where the ward ended. He had already analysed it and found it to be a basic alert ward with an anti-apparition and portkey elements tied to a single ward-stone sitting somewhere in the middle of the camp.

It was a very crude method of preventing entry for people who weren't wanted and after prodding it gently, he was sure he could shatter the ward without breaking a sweat.

Warding 101 - The farther the warding stone from the edge, the weaker the ward. There were exceptions of course, but none of them were relevant in the present case.

And that wasn't even the problem. Even if he did break the ward and apparated with sight into the camp, there was no telling what the sick fucks would do to Hermione if they caught sight of him.

For all he knew, they could have a knife to her throat this very instant.

The blond harridan might have taken Hermione to hurt him but knowing the fanatic cultists as he did, he knew, they wouldn't do it without some sort of ceremony to offer the sacrifice to the queen bitch.

Seeing him might make them haste the process.

He stopped himself before he went down that road. He was here. Hermione was alive. He could feel it in his bones. He would save her.

But it didn't change the fact that he didn't know her exact location.

It was precisely this reason why he had put a charm on the bracelet that she regularly wore on her wrist, so he could get to her if something untoward happened.

But now, sitting outside the ward, he could only tell that she was somewhere down to his right.

A step further and he would be able to tell where she was but then the one who had set up the ward would also know that it had been broken.

The Prophets had at least one magical working with them. Maybe more.

He couldn't take that chance.

There was only one way to move forward without letting the fuckers know he was coming.

Harry dove his hand into the beaded on his waist and searched for one of the things he had picked up before coming here in the glen.

His hand touched some rough textures grouped huddled together with sharp edges and scooped them out with his small hands.

Ward Cutters.

During the war, after countless casualties, it had become somewhat of a necessity for the Resistance to find some way to enter warded areas without alerting the parties within.

Having seen his mother's lifeless body after a raid conducted by Death Eaters, Seamus Finnegan was never the same. The day after her funeral, he had joined the efforts against the regime. With his proclivity towards pyrotechnics, he had been a tremendous help to Justin who supplied the Resistance with explosives to even the advantage the Death Eaters had gained after conquering more than half of the Isles.

But where he truly shined at, was breaking wards.

None of them knew how he did it, but he could identify the type of ward in minutes of seeing it and could create a passage within them without tripping a single alert charm tied to it.

And it had saved hundreds of lives of their people.

Ward Cutters were Seamus' greatest creations.

They could leech off of the magic of the ward at a specific point as though cutting it with laser concentrated foci.

The downside was, the magic being leeched off had to be compensated by someone. And the stronger the ward, the more magic it needed from the wizard to balance the reaction.

Harry set up the cutters along the ward perimeter in an arc, knowing the weak ward would be nothing for him to handle.

When the last stone was placed, he flicked his still sore right arm and his wand jumped into his hand.

Placing a basic ward around him to at least give him a warning in case of an ambush while he was focusing on dropping the section of the ward, he took a deep breath.

'I'm coming 'Mione.'

His wand touched the stones one after another and he intoned the spell to trigger them. Apart from a small sensation of his magic pouring into the stones, he barely felt any difference.

The cutters glowed with a blue light as the runes on them flared with magic as they began to seep the magic of the ward within them even as they took his own to keep the balance.

Half a minute passed before he felt the change.

There was an opening in the ward. It was small, but it was there!

With renewed effort, he continued to throw his magic in dribbles into the stones, forcing them to increase their suction.

With a whoosh of displaced air, the ward opening stuck, now big enough for him to enter.

Harry flicked his wand and the runes on the stones started pulsing. He had half an hour, at most. The stones wouldn't hold out longer than that without him supplying his own magic.

But that was more than enough.

There wouldn't be a single soul alive in the camp apart from him and his lady tonight.

Mindful of the edges of the opening, Harry took a step within the warded area, knowing full well, his hands would be blooded once more before he had her safe in his arms.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Did you check the area?" she asked with a pointed glare.

"Um…Yeah. It's clear. Are you…I mean…How can you be sure he'll come?" the frightened boy asked.

Her first thought was to punish him for daring to doubt the plan she, the great mother's speaker, had come up with. He was no different than the man she was hunting. He too didn't have a single shred of faith in her mistress' plan. He too used magic to rip apart the reality as nature intended it. She abhorred his kind with a passion. Every time she looked at the mark on her forearm she was grateful that her mistress had opened her eyes to see the truth and its place in the great plan. And because of that truth, she knew the wizardkind were nothing but a hindrance to what should have already come to pass.

But before she could raise her hand to strike him down a thought reminded of her duty. She needed him for a little while longer. His presence was a necessity until the defiler arrived.

The great mother had told her about the capabilities of the heathen the last time she had visited her dreams. She had cautioned her to not rely on her gifts to overpower him. He was stronger and craftier than most and would not be easy to pin down.

She had taken the advice as the word.

Hence she had created an elaborate plan to use one of his kind to create a barrier just to give a pretence that the only thing between him and his beloved were those flimsy protections.

She shuddered in pleasure as she imagined the look on his face when he realised his mistake. It would be a memory she would treasure until her mistress claimed her soul.

Even if he sensed the presence of another magic user in their midst and somehow got within the camp without her knowledge, he would still not know the entirety of what she had in store for him.

So when she looked at the boy fumbling his words to form an apology for the insult, she contained herself with a mere glare to show her displeasure at his remark.

It was more than enough to make his scurry away like the little vermin he was. "I…I'll just check them again…"

No matter what the heathen tried, his fall, tonight, was eminent.

The great mother had said as much and if there was one thing that the Prophets believed in…The great mother's will be done.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Knowing that he was up against the fuckers who relied on slivers of magic from the queen bitch herself, he had clamped down his occlumency shields to their tightest the moment he entered inside. He knew most of them were capable of sensing others in their vicinity and he wanted to stay unnoticed for as long as he could.

Once he had hidden his thoughts and presence, it was surprisingly easy to get inside the camp they had risen on the edge of the smaller cliff. For one, the sentries stationed outside had no magical presence whatsoever and a single piercing hex to the back of their skull had them lying down on the mossy grass, dead. And for another, their numbers were just shy of two dozens that he had seen during his reconnaissance.

Transfiguring the bodies into long wooden stumps, he banished them from the edge of the cliff. The animals in the valley would have a decent meal in the morning when they reverted.

A quick but silent jog had him near the entrance of the first tent, the one nearest to the edge. There were only three people inside, talking in a language he didn't recognise.

"…tuko hapa kumaliza kazi ambayo mama mkubwa alitupa…"

What in the merlin's name was that? Afrikaans?

The only word he recognised was 'mama' but it was enough for him to realise that they were probably talking about Atropos.

He paused for a second. Thinking about his next step.

The attack had been all very sudden and if he was being completely honest with himself, he wasn't really prepared to handle a Prophet uprising. Yet.

But with how sloppy the fanatics had been tonight, they weren't what worried him right now. No, it was the wizard who had cast the ward he was concerned about. It didn't matter that the ward was as weak as a fifth year's when there was a wand out there that could end him with one lucky cast.

Leading a small army and fighting for his life for years on end had brought him a long ways from the bumbling kid who used to charge into the danger without a second thought to the consequences.

It had been a long road and he had lost many friends along the way, but the lesson had finally sunk in.

He needed intel. And for that some of these sodding arseholes needed to live, no matter how much his stomach turned to not curse the shit out of them right here.

Pursing his lips, he moved. He'd have to do it. He'd have to take them alive.

The three were standing inside the tent in such a way that two had their backs turned to him and only one, with dark skin and bald head, was looking his way. He slithered inside and hid behind an empty carton, his small stature finally giving him some advantage.

Without taking a peek, Harry waved his wand in a convoluted pattern only he could understand and aimed his wand in the general area of the three Prophets. An invisible orb of magic shot out of his wand as the anchoring charm hit the centre of their party.

Before the bald men could open his mouth to warn his companions, Harry struck.

A hard flick of his wand and a red jet of light hit the man on the left and he slumped to the ground, unconscious and Harry was already moving towards his other target.

Another quick shot, this time onto the ground near where he had cast the anchoring charm and a wanded silencing ward encompassed the room, muffling all the sounds in the room instantly.

It was a trick he had learned in the middling years of the war. During the raids they had done, they didn't have the skill or the time or even the specialists who could cast wards around the room and attack or defend at the same time.

The necessity had indeed been the mother of invention in their case. After losing his whole squad after being pinned down in an ambush during a food raid, one of the old Master Auror had created the anchoring charm to avoid having to stand still and wave the wand in slow, intricate patterns to erect the wand based wards as the enemy thinned down their numbers.

The idea was to create a ward specific anchor that had all the arithemantic sequences of the ward but not the trigger itself. Once cast, it would act as a sort of a spell magnet and would catch the trigger spell if cast in its vicinity.

The Master Auror had created more than a dozen types of anchoring charms that could be used for different types of wards. But nearly all of them could be cast without facing the directions where the ward was to be placed. It was an acquired skill, but a very useful one.

Though Harry had shown his ingenuity when he had successfully altered its spell cast to be invisible. None but a very few like him, those who had an astounding control of their magic could even begin to attempt such a feat.

He was just glad that his efforts had saved the lives of those he considered family.

A split second later a lumos illuminated the tent and the man facing him cried out in alarm before he too fell to the ground, unmoving, courtesy of another stunner.

The last person had been smarter than many Harry had faced over the years. At the first sign of trouble, she hadn't waited a second before bolting towards the opposite entrance of the small camp.

Harry jerked his wand towards his right and slashed it downwards as water erupted out of his foci and pushed the fleeing woman on to the ground. Flash, the water turned to ice, freezing the woman on the ground on her back.

Realising that she was caught, the woman did the only thing she could to save herself. Swiping her hand on an especially pointed icicle above her chest, she attempted to bathe the mark of her mistress with her blood to channel the magic through it.

Attempted, because the earth beneath her gave out before her hand had even left the icicle as blood dripped down on to the ice that froze her from chest to toes.

Just as her eyes met his own, the dripping blood on her chest rose above her and turned into a hissing and spitting red snake as it dripped venom on her chest, wrapping itself around her neck to choke her with all its strength.

"Ack…Ackh…Please…Stop…Ack. Ackh…" she pleaded in a very thick accent, giving some credence to his theory of the three stooges being from the southern continent.

"Really? Your people once killed millions in her name and you're the best she could find?" Harry taunted.

"…Please…don't…do…this…"

"Alright. Riddle me this then. Where is she keeping the girl?"

"I…I…Ack…don't know."

"Oh. Okay. I'll just leave you here with my buddy Mr snake then." Harry said rotating his wand clockwise in the woman's direction.

The snake hovering over the woman turned towards her in a quick snap and with a lunge, forced itself down her open mouth into her throat.

"AHHHUGHH…ACKH…AGHNGHGH…"

In the tent, Harry came out of her mind and moved passed the convulsing body of the black woman he had just semi-lobotomised with his mental illusion and levitated her two unconscious Prophet brothers to join her frozen self. The mind was a powerful tool, one only needed to know the right places to push, and the rest it did on its own.

The cultist hadn't known where the blonde bitch was keeping Hermione anyway. He had checked her mind before deciding to busy her with the visions of Mr snake.

The sight of her twitching body had given him more questions than he cared to admit, however.

These fuckers weren't even immune to the illusions there predecessors could see through a mile away. What the hell was happening? And come to think of it, besides the blonde woman, none of these people seemed to have a strong connection with Atropos if their magical presence was any indication. Were they cast-offs? Trainees?

Whatever they were, they were poor imitations of what monsters the Prophets had been in his future-past. They didn't have a skill that could rival much less exceeded, their future counterparts.

Counting it as something to think about later, he tore a long section off from the fabric of the tent and transfigured it into a sturdy, thick rope and tied the bastards as tightly as he could. Looking outside once to make sure that none had seen him do the deed, he tapped his wand on the rope and muttered, "Portus."

A second later there was a blue swirl of magic in the air and the three bound cultists were on their way to the basement of Kent cottage. And after renewing the disillusionment charm on himself once more, he was already moving to clear out the next tent.

If all the sods working for the queen bitch turned out to be this easy, he would have his girl by the end of the hour.

After three more tents and seven more prisoners, none of them had any idea where their leader had kept Hermione, Harry decided to move further inside. Casting the mage sight charm on himself he took a brief look around the area that was visible.

There were four magical signatures, possibly more cultists with the eerily glowing marks on their forearms moving around the last tent in a way that could loosely be called a patrol. Good. It told him more than a few things and confirmed some others.

First. Hermione was most likely inside the biggest camp rather than the smaller one which possibly inhabited a couple of more fanatics.

Second. Either the queen bitch had woken them up quite recently, probably after his jaunt back in time, or she really had chosen morons.

Knowing Atropos a little as he did, he knew that though she might be manipulating these poor people, she was a grade-A narcissist who would never let her mark touch those she deemed 'unworthy,' if she could help it.

Unless of course, she couldn't help it.

The way his thoughts were going made him pause in his steps for a moment. It fit rather well with everything he had seen until now, but he dreaded to think if it could be true.

She had told him that it was her preview to keep the balance. That it was she who kept beings like Atropos in check so they couldn't affect the one gift that humanity had been given.

The girl of free choice.

And since he had broken her bindingsbefore he had come back in time,she should have stoppedAtropos before all this came to head. Atropos should never have been able to wake the ruddy menaces in the first place!

A stray corner of his mind whispered something that he was keeping himself from admitting, however.

'What if she was bound again? It had happened once, didn't it? Who's to say that she isn't just as impotent as she had been when he had first met her?'

A spurt of fear caught hold of him as that thought registered in his mind.

'No! It couldn't have happened. Atropos is nothing compared to her… But then how?'

Shaking his head to clear the errant thoughts, he reminded himself of what was important right now.

Hermione.

Harry stopped beside a flap that led to the main area within and flared his senses to check for any obvious traps hidden in or around the entrance. Finding none, he tapped the wand on his head and the familiar feeling of broken egg spread through him. Now disillusioned, he crept along the wall of the tent towards the only other opening he could see.

Fifty meters.

A patrol of two Prophets went by outside the tent, their shadowy forms stilling him for a moment before he continued his trek ahead.

Thirty meters.

Another couple of sentries, a man and a woman turned towards the opening he had just come through and Harry sped up.

Ten meters.

"I…I'll just check them again…"

Harry stopped in his tracks.

Someone was coming.

He hid behind the lone pillar of wood that held part of the weight of the heavy fabric above and waited for the owner of the voice to come out.

The moment the man, for it definitely was a man, exited the frame, Harry coiled.

It was the wizard!

The core in his body visible through his mage sight was enough proof of that. And given that he could sense his magical presence thrumming within him, Harry was sure that he was at the very least, near his magical maturity.

He tapped the wand to his temple and his vision returned to normal instead of the miasmic plethora of colours it had been with the mage sight on.

The man, boy – he corrected himself – was not familiar at all. Not that he knew every magical on the isles. But even then, with his presence here, it was likely that he was in contact with some unsavoury elements of their society, even discounting his present allegiance. And thus, should have at least been on his radar, past or present.

Now, half a distance away for the exit, just as Harry was on the move, the boy turned back and saw the air shimmer right behind him.

Harry reacted with the reflexes honed by countless close encounters. The first spell was out of his lips before the boy had time to reach for his wand hidden in his robe.

The boy's eyes widened as the muddy green jet of light hit him squarely in the face and he screamed out of reflex than anything else.

Harry looked on as not a peep came out of his open mouth as the silencing charm did as intended. With swift steps, he closed the distance and stunned the bastard who had helped the vermin kidnap his love.

"Mobilicorpus," Harry whispered into the air and levitated the stunned body of the wizard outside the main tent and into one of the smaller one he had cleared some moments ago.

He knew he didn't have time to coax the boy into answering so he fell back to his usual modus operandi.

Intimidation.

With a wave and flick, the familiar black shadows covered him whole as he sent the spell to awaken the fool.

"Wha…What happened?" the boy asked groggily.

"You fucked up boy," he said, his voice heavy and dark as the result of the concealing charm.

"Wha…you." The boy slurred.

For merlin's sake, had the boy never been stunned before? He hadn't even put that much power into it. Was it just an act to buy some time?

"Where are they keeping the girl?" Harry asked in a menacing tone.

"I…I don't…" That's as far as he could before Harry's patience snapped.

"Legilimens!"

"…You could be the great wizard to ever live, Marvin…" her ruby red lips whispered into his ears and her body continued to move above him, pleasuring him in ways he had never thought possible.

"…H…How?" Marvin slurred as though drugged by her beauty.

"…Not now, my love. Tonight, it's just you and me…"

Her chest connected with his own, mingling their sweat as their bodies rubbed again each other. She moved to kiss his neck as he moaned in pleasure.

"…I will do anything for you, Katheryn…"

"I didn't sign up for this!" he cried frightened beyond belief.

"You bound yourself to me, foolish boy. You gave yourself into the service of the great mother the moment you gave your consent," she snarled at him. "Do what is asked of you less you end up like him." She threatened to point at the body of a man lain down on the grass as the vermin ate his flesh.

Marvin looked at the corpse, horrified.

"He too thought he was above doing as the mistress commanded. You can see what he ended up becoming." Katheryn continued, cleaning the bloody knife in her hand with her robes.

He looked at her cold blue eyes and did the only thing he could to get himself out of the mess he'd gotten in.

He agreed.

Harry came out of his mind with half of his lungs demanding air.

The boy – Marvin, had been chosen by the blonde woman. Specifically. He had no idea why but the woman had enticed him to make a fucking bond of all things to force him into the bitch's service.

It wasn't good. Not good at all.

He hadn't thought her capable of this much before. But it was clear now that the woman had been planning this for a long time. Probably since the day he had come back.

Her presence at Hermione's school explained much of it even if he didn't like it.

Marvin didn't know much but Harry had seen enough in his mind to make him realise that this Katheryn harridan was planning on offering his Hermione to that bitch Atropos when the moon was hit its peak.

"Tempus."

The numbers eleven and fifty floated above his eyes and he cursed.

While it wasn't always the case, the moon was said to be at its highest generally during the twelfth hour of the night.

Harry turned and looked at the now drooling boy and stifled the urge to break his neck.

The boy had sold himself for a ruddy shag.

A shag.

Knowing he was out of options, for the time being, he stunned the disoriented teen and conjured a rope to tie around him and similar to the others tonight, sent him back to the basement with a portkey.

The kid will rue the day he had given in to his primal urges without knowing what he was getting in when Harry was done with him.

But for now, he had to eviscerate a blonde trollop named Katheryn and get back his girl.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"He's here," she murmured as soon as the connection she had with the boy lessened.

There was a flurry of activity at her words as her brothers and sisters started moving to their places to start the ceremony.

Katheryn Karmoth stood silent as she watched them prepare Theïkóplo for what was sure to be her last act in this world.

The little girl had stopped struggling once the great mother's mark had fully subjugated her will. She was sure, that the old spirit was still alive in the vessel, however. One but only had to look in her eyes. It spoke of the conflict that woman inside was having with her mistress.

It didn't bother her much.

Mistress would not let the heathen get away.

The first of the chants broke her from her reverie as Sister Maria started the ritual.

"…emeís oi profítes tou manteíou ton delfón dínoume ton eaftó tis se aftín…"

A dark smirk formed on her ruby lips. 'Come, heathen…Your end awaits.'

-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry bolted back into the large tent he had just come from with all the strength his short legs could muster.

The entrance was just as open as before, but the patrolling Prophets had taken post on either side of it since he had gone.

There was no time to play it quiet anymore.

His hands tightened on the shaft of his wand and with his magic burning inside him, he struck.

"BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"

A great explosion of earth, stone and people shattered the entrance as the two of the five pillars holding the camp gave way.

Without a pause, Harry ran through the debris and slashed his wand to make a tear through one walled side of the tent.

He could hear chanting now. Echoing words of power creating a small magical surge in the area as they escaped his enemies' lips.

A single step inside and he knew he was just in time to interrupt something major as the magic buildup reached a crescendo.

"Decrusto!"

The crimson spell shot out of his wand and struck the altar right in the middle, disintegrating it into dust just as the Prophets surrounding it dove to the side to hide behind the stone pillars.

"STOP HIM!" came the shout from the one he'd come to hunt and he dodged a flaming ball coming right at him.

"Gotta do better than that, bitch!" he taunted even as he moved to a cover.

For a brief moment, his eyes caught sight of her glassy brown ones and relief flooded through his being to see her alive. He'd save her from these sick fucks if it's the last thing he did tonight.

"ACCIO HERM…"

Another ball of fire hurled itself towards his direction and hit the stone he was using as cover before he could finish the spell.

"You won't get her as easily, defiler!"

Cursing, but seizing the chance, he dove away from the cover in a roll and threw another curse at the fire on the other side of the alter. 'Expulso.'

A burst of blue light flared and three Prophets hiding right beside the disintegrated altered were blasted apart by the immense explosion right at their feet.

"AHHHHHHH…"

"YOU WILL PAY FOR THEIR LIVES WITH HER BLOOD, HEATHEN!" shouted Katheryn as she saw her brothers get ripped apart by his magic.

"DIFFINDO!"

A sickening crack ripped the air as the spell hit the Prophet standing right beside Katheryn collapsed as his face split into two.

"You won't be able to touch a single hair on her head, Katheryn. I will end this tonight!" Harry returned even as he was forced to move from his spot by the fiery flames he got in return.

He spied from behind the last possible cover in the area that only a single Prophet had left beside Katheryn herself and he was holding Hermione's dangerously still form as if his life depended on it.

Pushing aside his worry at her state, he focused on the situation at hand. He knew with Hermione so close to the man, he wouldn't be able to cast a single spell even if he tried.

That left with only one tactical option.

Ducking once more, he focused his magic. 'Lumen Vergo.'

Light on either side of him bent against his form and hid him beneath its covers, rendering him completely invisible without a single shimmer in place.

Silencing his feet, he stood up and walked towards Katheryn's back, his feet touching the ground with nary a sound.

She was looking around as her eyes darted every which way for a sign of him. He knew she couldn't sense him or his magic unless he channelled it into a spell having noticed her throwing fireballs at him only when he build up his magic to cast a spell of his own.

But he had underestimated her cunning.

He walked through the barrier around the alter she had formed by borrowing her mistress' power and she jerked in his direction at once.

Lightning burst from between her fingers and travelled towards him matching the speed of every spell he had cast tonight.

Harry's eyes widened for a split second before he hastily formed a shield at his front. 'Protego Duo!'

The powerful arcs of lightning hit the green barrier with a shrieking sound just as Harry became visible behind it, having lost his focus during the onslaught.

With a force she wasn't expecting, the deadly arcs of electric currents reflected from Harry's shield and hit her squarely in the chest as she blasted her away from the altar.

"AAAAGHHHHHH…."

It was rare that he enjoyed someone's discomfort and rarer still if that discomfort was a result of him maiming a person with a serious jolt of crispy arcs. But her screams as Katheryn traversed through the air and hit the ground was like music to his ears.

A sigh escaped his lips as he watched her smoking, unmoving body. Before he could turn to the last arsehole who had his hold on his girl, a shout from said arsehole broke his moment of peace.

"STAY BACK!" the bald black man all but screamed. "STAY BACK OR SHE DIES!" His shaking hand held a small knife to Hermione's neck as he threatened him more in fear than need.

"Alright," Harry said as calmly as he could "I am right here. Not gonna move an inch."

"That's right. If you do, I'll paint this valley with her blood, you nullifidian!" he shot back, his voice a bit manic.

"Easy there! Nobody's hurtin' anybody. Isn't that right?" Harry said moving his wand hand behind his back and flicking his wand in three successive jerks.

"JUST STAY BACK!"

"I'm right here buddy. Raaiiight here." Another flick and the stone shaft sitting a little behind the manic Prophet transfigured into a very rough shape of a spear.

"Look at me, Hermione. Listen to my voice. I won't let anything happen to you, sweetheart," Harry said in a soft voice, looking into her brown eyes and trying to coax the girl out of the shock that had no doubt gripped her psyche.

Hermione remained silent even if her eyes gained a bit more sharpness for just an instant.

Turning to the man, Harry asked in the same calm voice, more to gain time than anything else. "What's your name?"

"We are all children of the great mother, you defiler! Our names are sacred. Not to be uttered in the presence of unbelievers," the man spat as though reciting the snap response from memory.

"That's…" Harry paused, now ready with what he had planned, "…well, unfortunate. I'd have liked to know your name before I killed you."

"Wha…*thunk*" The man's words died in his mouth as the stone spear impaled him right below his brain stem, ending his life in one smooth motion.

Before the man could topple over and fall to the ground, Harry was there, beside Hermione, holding her still as she threatened to fall herself.

"Hermione! … 'Mione!"

She stood there, still, leaning on him as everything in her stopped reacting to the external stimuli.

"Come on love. Snap out of it…Please…" he begged, tears prickling his eyes.

Receiving no response from her nor sensing any spike in her magic, he settled her on the ground and waved his wand towards her for the standard diagnostic procedure.

"Trauma to the back of the head…shock…swelling in the cerebral chamber…neuro response to sudden information overload?" he whispered confusedly as the results of the charm showed him everything her body was going through.

'There's nothing for it. I'd have to force her body to sleep before it can heal itself.'

He cast the mending charm on her head and the swelling receded in an instant as the blood vanished from her brown curls.

Before he could cast another healing spell, his instincts screamed at him to move and he ducked and dove aside just a jet of purple flames shot over the exact place his head had occupied a moment before.

"DIE YOU BASTARD!" screamed a burned Katheryn as jets of fire erupted from both her hands, the glowing mark of her arm shining the brightest ever.

The fury he had suppressed in favour of saving his beloved came back with a vengeance. Taking one last glance at the still shallowly breathing body of his wife, he stood up, wand in hand.

"You like to play with fire, don't you?" he asked in a deceptively calm voice. "Let me show you how to play, little girl."

"IGNIS FLAGELLO!"

A twenty feet long barbed whip made of smouldering red fire shot out of the end of his wand as he waved it above his head to burn the very air with its presence.

Once. Twice. Three times he flicked his wand and the pillars surrounding the now terrified looking Katheryn melted right before her wide eyes.

"Tell your mistress, I am coming for her next."

With that, he brought around the scourge of fire and flicked it at her in one quick motion.

Her body injured by the lightning and with the arc of the whip astoundingly wide, Katheryn Karmoth never stood a chance.

The fiery lash bisected her in the middle, cauterising her innards just as it moved past her flesh like it was nothing.

To her credit, not a single scream left her throat even as he ended the spell with a flick of his wrist.

Her lower half toppled to the ground just as a gurgling whisper left her hauntingly smiling lips.

"Tell…her…yourself."

Before he could give more than a single thought to the remark, a sharp pain erupted in his side as a small but firm hand on his wrist stopped any retaliation from his wand.

"AGHH…" he grunted as the sharp object embedded within his side turned as the person holding it twisted it.

On reflex, he broke the hold on himself partially and turned around with a jerk, knocking his wand out of his hands as it cluttered on the ground beside him.

Horror filled him as he laid eyes on the person who had attacked him.

"We meet again, Harry Potter!"

Before his wide-open eyes stood Hermione, with her brown eyes now shining with an ethereal golden light just as the mark on her forearm surged awake.

"Surprised?"

Every single thought escaped his mind as his mind attempted to accept what it had seen.

"Hehehe…" Atropos giggled, having taken control of Hermione's body to savour the moment. "I told you once remember. You will not lose me so easily."

A backhand struck his cheek as he stumbled on his feet clutching the profusely bleeding wound.

"You thought you could cheat me…ME? Hehehehaaaa…" she laughed a hungry, manic laugh as spittle from her mouth flew towards him. "No one can cheat Fate, oh Master ofDeath!"

Theories and solutions spun in his mind as he tried and failed to understand what had happened just now.

"You…you're not…her." He denied. Not allowing himself to believe the little girl in the body was gone.

"Oh, certainly not, silly boy…" she chided.

"Wheh…where's Her…'mione?" he slurred as his vision grew dark.

"Now that is the most interesting part…" she breathed, walking towards him with slow deliberate steps. "She's. Still. Here."

Pain finally won the battle as Harry released a pained gasp despite not wishing to give the bitch the satisfaction. "AGHH…"

"And not just the little girl you wished to save so much," she said in a teasing voice. "…your wife is here too…"

Her words hit him like a thunderclap. Taking away the last remnants of strength in his legs as he fell to the ground in a heap.

"Hermione!" he cried with all his heart, hoping to reach her…to touch her…one last time.

She came near him in one smooth motion, unwillingly to not see the light in his eyes fade forever.

"The weave will return to what it was always meant to be…" she said softly, cupping his face, "…My masterpiece."

Harry's eyes threatened to close and he willed them open again. He was not willing to die tonight. Not now. Not when he knew that Hermione was still alive. His Hermione.

A beat pulsed within him as his life-blood continued to mar the grassy soil with its coppery essence.

Fate's words kept reverberating in his head as though playing on loop.

'You will not lose me so easily… No one can cheat Fate…Master of Death!...'

'DEATH!'

A faint hope lit within him as his desperation caught hold of the only possible chance he had.

His eyes shot open as he gulped the air hungrily for one last try.

"Still trying to cling to life, eh?" she mocked.

With a snap, he grabbed Hermione's hand from his face with an iron grip and in one swift motion swiped his own blood onto the very mark that Fate called her own and continue to pour it into the small incisions the mark had made on her flesh. The mark on her forearm began to sizzle as though immersed into boiling oil.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP! STOP!" she shouted shrilly.

"She…is…MINE!" he screamed, crushing her strength with last of his own.

"NO!…AHHHHHHHHHHHHH…"

A golden mist burst from Hermione's body and in a flash disappeared into the heavens, just as Hermione's eyes rolled up in her head and she toppled over him like a puppet without strings.

Fire, hungry and demanding spread through the camp consuming any and all that it could find. It swallowed littered bodies and engulfed the trinkets collected by the Prophets, in one quick swoop.

With heaving breaths, his core depleted and dark circulating around his vision, he watched the maw of the all-consuming flames reach near him and his love.

A look at her barely breathing body and something within him refused to lay down and die in the inferno.

'Not like this…Not now…Not when I just got her…'

Harry fisted his bloodied hand and whispered a prayer to the being he'd never thought he would need to see again, this soon.

'If you are listening…Help…Please…"

Had he been anyone else, the few whispered words uttered in desperation would have fallen on deaf ears. Ears that had long since gotten used to hearing the pleas of those who wished to deny her what she was owed. And more importantly, because she abided by the rules that her creator had set for beings like her.

But he wasn't just anyone.

And she owed him much, much more than she could ever repay.

And as he was connected to her, she could bend the rules, just this time.

A small fire grew within his body and some strength surged within him, giving him a drop of magic to do what he must.

A bloody smile bloomed on his face as he realised she had answered his call.

With gritted teeth, he crawled towards his dropped wand, leaving behind a trail of blood.

Through blurry vision, his hand caught the polished black wood and despite continuously losing focus, he cast his last attempt to save them both.

Grabbing Hermione's hand in a death-grip and holding onto the key in his robes, he whispered his last hope, "Portus…Clavis…"

-x-x-x-x-x-

A blue swirl of portkey inside the living room alerted Sirius that something was wrong. Harold never took portkey back home unless he couldn't help it.

He was about to ask what's wrong when his first step hit the floor inside the living area and his sight caught the scene in the middle.

In a flash, he was beside the fallen body of his little friend, looking at his wounded body with wide-open eyes.

The blood pouring from his lacerated body, with his hands gripping a little girl, Harold said the words that Sirius would inspire and haunt him for a very long time.

"…save…her…"

-x-x-x-x-x-

~ Review please ~

A/N – 1, Legend

• Theïkóplo – The vessel of Atropos.

• The Fates – or Moirai – are a group of three weaving goddesses who assign individual destinies to mortals at birth. Their names are Clotho (the Spinner), Lachesis (the Alloter) and Atropos (the Inflexible).

2. The search for a cheap-ass domain is now over. I was finally able to get my hands on one. What does this mean for us, you ask?

Well... The website for all my stories and other writing pieces is now up and running.

Please visit "www.neatStuff.in" for all the latest chapters that are posted there a day before. I have put a lot of effort into it. Hope you like it.

And a reminder, the twitter feed is now Live, again. Follow the news at neatstuff5 on twitter. Read the latest updates on the edits, excerpts from the released and unreleased chapters and other tidbits that I will be posting.

Thank You.