chapter 2

The self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort stared down at the broken body of one of his oldest lieutenants, Lestrange, with a cold detachment. The man had arrived via emergency port key, broken and dying before anyone could even attempt to save him. He had only managed two brief, gurgled, bloody words before expiring.

"Storm… Chaser."

And then, he was gone.

It was vexing. The man had been a loyal and talented wizard, something not so easily replaced among the wretches of the Wizarding World. Further, the dying wizard had given them no clues beyond two nonsensical words as to what had happened.

It wasn't until he found out that, not only had the lieutenant died but so had his most seasoned team of Knights of Walpurgis in addition to a group of new recruits that he had realized exactly how poorly the day had gone for him and his cause.

With that, the vexation had been cast aside and he was truly wroth. Those who had remained cowered before the sudden explosion of towering rage rolling off the usually charming and charismatic man. The rest had wisely chosen to take their leave, avoiding an illustration of the man's wrath.

"So, at first there was an entire batch of promising recruits, slaughtered like calves before the butcher," Voldemort stated as he slowly traced his wand along the jaw of his old friend Avery. "Included in them, Lestrange's son, who you all assured me would prove to be a formidable asset to my cause, but was unable to handle a single wizard when backed up with an entire group of other potential knights, and lead by Dolohov."

He clucked his tongue, his eyes narrowed into slits. "And then, you allowed Lestrange to lead a team of my best on a hunt… without informing me?"

"M-my Lord…" Avery started to plead, the fear dripping off his words like a putrid oil.

"Crucio," Voldemort stated coldly as he seemed completely unaffected as the man began to scream his throat hoarse in agony, falling to his knees directly before where his robes pooled. "And why exactly did you feel it unnecessary to inform me?"

He gave the man a moment to recover from the wracking sobs that slowly formed into words. "W-we wanted to f-find out h-how he k-knew ab-bout T-Tom R-Riddle."

Instantly all pretense of calm fled him as Voldemort grabbed hold of the man by the throat and squeezed down, fingers digging into the tender flesh. "WHAT!?"

Voice almost strangled out, Avery spoke, "He… told a survivor a m-message for Tom Riddle!"

"What was that message?!" Voldemort demanded, pain promised, dripping, pouring out of every little syllable as his eyes almost seemed to glow with malice.

"T-the war won't, won't be as easy as y-he thinks," Avery stated, correcting himself before he accidentally implied that his lord was a man with a name so common and base.

Growling in rage Voldemort flung the man back and stalked to his seat, his robes billowing out claws into the air before settling back against his form. "Have the survivor brought to me, NOW!"

"S-she, I…" Avery struggled to find the words to respond to the demand, fear growing in his eyes as he cringed back.

"You what, Avery?" Voldemort demanded with dark, narrowed eyes as everyone present could see the way his fingers had started to dig into the arm rests of his seat.

"I… cast her out for her failure, my lord." Avery admitted, eyes falling to the ground, unable to meet his master's gaze.

"I don't care, bring her here!" Voldemort snapped back, a hiss leaving his lips as, behind his throne, everyone could see the stirring coils of a snake.

"My Lord…" Avery started to protest again, still unable to meet his eyes.

"What?!" he demanded, all trace of civility and decorum shattered at the continued defiance of the man.

"She is Bellatrix Black." Avery stated simply.

Voldemort paused, an unexpected revelation about the girl's identity leaving a bitter taste of displeasure in his mouth as his lips twisted with a grimace. If he turned upon the Blacks at this stage he would have a rebellion on his hands. The Blacks were among the staunchest supporters of pure blood. If he struck against them… "Then approach her as if this were a second chance. If she is a Black, she will gladly take the chance."

"I…" Avery started to say fear and hesitation warring in his eyes.

Frowning, Voldemort directed a look at him. "You disagree?"

"She… did not appear overly… upset to no longer be a part of the Knights, my lord." Avery said carefully.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "Then, you had best be very persuasive, hadn't you?"

"… Yes, my lord," Avery agreed with a wince.

Bellatrix sighed as she leaned back in her bed and stared up at the ceiling. It seemed impossible to try and sleep, her mind a whirl with the events of the day. Everything was different; everything she'd believed was different.

She wasn't sure exactly how that was going to settle. She could practically hear her Aunt Walburga screaming already. A part of her couldn't help but imagine the wizard, the Potter that shouldn't exist but did, being subject to one of her rants and his likely reaction.

A perverse giggle left her lips as she allowed herself a smile.

"And what, pray tell, has you so amused?"

Bellatrix's eyes snapped open and she beheld her near-twin in appearance younger sister, arching a brow back at her with her arms crossed about her chest.

"Dromeda!" Bellatrix declared, blushing slightly and shifting about on her bed.

"Bella," Andromeda Black agreed with a nod of her head as she studied her sister carefully. "I take it you… enjoyed your festivities?"

There was a subtle hint of something, disgust or disapproval Bellatrix realized, that her sister had always had when she had spoken of cleansing the wizarding world of the muggle taint. Looking back on it, she'd always had it, an aloof separation from the rest of them when it came to that matter. As the rise of the Knights of Walpurgis had increased the family's vitriol, it had seen the subtle but steady distancing of her little sister from the rest of them.

"Not like I was planning to," Bellatrix stated simply as she regarded her sister with a much sharper eye as she considered how much she had missed. "In fact, I rather came quite close to dying, I should think."

"… What?" Andromeda stilled and stared at her sister with wide eyes.

"Rodolphus did, though," Bellatrix continued as she stared up into the air above her head. "So were the rest of them. And Dolohov. We didn't last half a minute. He tore us to pieces."

"Rodolphus is… dead?" Andromeda stared at her sister before frowning slightly, looking worriedly at her sister. "Bella, are you all right? Were you hurt?"

"Very dead. Watched his head get sliced open right in front of me. The stains will probably never come out," Bella agreed with a nod of her head before affixing her sister with a critical look. "You don't believe that muggles and muggleborn should be purged, do you?"

Andromeda stilled, looking back at her sister with a carefully blank expression. "I'm not sure what you're referring to, sister."

"I don't know why I couldn't see it before," Bellatrix stated as she stared down at her fingers. "That aloof disapproval you only barely ever showed. Didn't want to see it, maybe? Ickle Bella just wanted to be a good little pureblood and make the wizarding world stronger."

The sing-song quality of Bellatrix's voice made Andromeda shift, stiff and tense as she palmed her wand, watching her sister as if she had sudden transformed into a predatory beast. "I'm still not sure what you're talking about."

"I know I'm supposed to be wroth with you," Bellatrix responded as she tilted her head to the side. "But after tonight… I simply don't care!"

"… You don't care." Andromeda repeated, her brow arched and skepticism high.

"It was a half-blood that felled us like the sickle does wheat," Bellatrix continued, almost as if she hadn't heard her sister say a thing. "It was… creative, magnificent even."

"Magnificent," Andromeda again repeated as she looked at her sister with that same skepticism.

"Oh, yes!" Bellatrix smiled broadly. "Absolutely magnificent!"

Carefully, Andromeda reached forward and pressed the back of her hand to Bellatrix's cheeks and forehead.

"… What are you doing, Dromeda?" Bella demanded as she reached up and lightly batted away her sister's hand.

"Checking to see if you are perchance inflicted by fever. And I do find you to be rather flush," Andromeda stated simply. "I should think that would explain some of your queer thoughts."

"I am not delirious." Bellatrix stated flatly as she gave her sister a sour look.

"How else am I to believe when you are making such claims?" Andromeda countered back with a brow arched. "What will mother and father say?"

"Father already knows," Bellatrix stated, her lip threatening to jut out in a petulant pout. "I showed him already."

"And mother?" Andromeda pressed firmly with an arched brow.

"Father will make her see." Bellatrix said firmly with a confidant nod of her head.

"I hope this fever passes instead of growing enflamed, sister," Andromeda stated quietly before slowly shaking her head. "I would hate to see you suffer the fate that would likely befall you should it not."

Bellatrix frowned at her sister, "What could you possibly be worried about?"

"Toujours Pur, sister," Andromeda stated with a sad smile on her face. "Toujours Pur."

"What aren't you telling me?" Bellatrix demanded as she looked at her sister. "What is going on, Dromeda?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, sister," Andromeda stated simply with a shake of her head.

"I am your elder sister. It is my responsibility to worry about you," Bellatrix stated firmly.

"Not for this, Bellatrix," Andromeda stated firmly and looked at her sister. "To bed with you, though. After a day like that, you shall need your sleep more than usual. Shall we expect you to wake sometime before the settling of the setting sun, or would it be best to wait for supper to have you grace us with your presence?"

"Brat," Bellatrix grunted out, allowing herself to be distracted as she pouted at Andromeda. "I am hardly so and you know it."

"Of course I do, sister, of course I do," Andromeda agreed, a slight note of melancholy in her voice as she returned to the door. "I bid you a good night and sweet dreams, sister."

"And I to you, Dromeda," Bellatrix responded automatically as Andromeda nodded and shut the door behind her with an audible click.

Once more in the relative quiet of her bedroom, she was left to the mercy of a maelstrom of confusion. What was this resignation in her sister? Her fears… and their father's. Surely he would see the value in what this new player brought.

Wouldn't he?

Albus Dumbledore was quietly enjoying a nightcap when the flash of his fireplace alerted him to an incoming floo call.

"Albus," the voice was Alastor Moody's, pulling the wizard from his drink as he turned to face the fireplace directly.

"Alastor," Dumbledore responded with an inclination of his head. "What can I do for you this evening?"

"We have a problem," Alastor responded, before pausing and shifting about a bit. "Actually, we've had a problem, but we just now found out about it."

"Come through," Dumbledore responded as he flicked his wand to the fireplace, allowing the floo to fully connect.

And in a flash of fire Alastor stepped out, shaking off the ash with a grimace as he glanced around in a quick, efficient survey of his surroundings. "You moved the bird's stand half a foot and you added another stack of books."

Inclining his head in acknowledgement, Dumbledore looked at the man. "What seems to be the problem, Alastor?"

"Got a bunch of pureblood idiots who've been causing problems. Torturing and murdering whole families and groups of muggles type problems," Moody stated with a grim frown. "They've been bribing people to keep it covered up until tonight."

"They decided to come into the open?" Dumbledore asked, frowning heavily beneath his beard.

"They picked the wrong fight," Alastor corrected the man with a slightly sadistic smirk on his face.

"I take it, then, the statute of secrecy was not breached?" Dumbledore noted.

"Oh, it was," Alastor disagreed quickly with a shake of his head, "but the bastards set it up smart enough. They threw up Muggle repelling charms on the doors and windows so none of them could run. No, that's not why I said they picked the wrong fight."

"Then why, pray tell, keep me in such suspense?" Dumbledore asked with a brow arched up.

"Because it's nice to be the one that has the answers for a change," Alastor countered back before settling into his seat. "There's a new player, it seems. Wizard, goes by the name 'Storm Chaser'. He was having a drink at a muggle pub when those idiots burst in, trying to kill everyone in sight."

"And he managed to hold them off long enough for the aurors to arrive?" Dumbledore stated, his brows rising. "Remarkable."

"Hold them off?" Alastor responded, staring back at Dumbledore before barking off a laugh. "They didn't last half a minute, Albus. He tore them to pieces."

"… Pardon?" Dumbledore stated, his glass almost dropping.

"When we arrived it was to a pile of dead body parts," Alastor stated. "With the muggles scared out of their minds and a single wizard, sitting calm as you could be. And the bloody cheek of the bastard. Do you know what the first thing he said was?"

"What?" Dumbledore asked, still reeling from the explanation.

"'You're late.' He tells us all we're late of all the bloody things," Alastor stated with a shake of his head.

"… I see," Dumbledore stated quietly as he leaned back, looking at Alastor with an unreadable expression on his face. "So, you came here to, what, convince me to try and lend support for him at his trial?"

Alastor burst into laughter then, guffawing as he half pointed his finger at Dumbledore.

"What, exactly, is so amusing, Alastor?" Dumbledore demanded after he let the man have his laughs.

"What trial? We had nothing to hold him on! Everything said he acted in self-defense!" Alastor chortled. "They threw the first spells, they burst through the doors, and they had already started randomly cursing people. All he did was defend himself."

"But, his spells…?" Dumbledore spoke up before flushing guiltily at the implication he was about to make.

"He offered me his wand and let me Priori Incantos it. Worst thing in it was a single exploding curse. Just a normal, albeit powerful, one." Alastor stated simply.

"Then, how…?"

"Near as I can tell, he started by throwing some whiskey at the one in charge, Antonin Dolohov from what we can see, followed it up with a simple incendio that put him on fire. While they were either cursing muggles or trying to deal with the fire, he banished every piece of furniture and glass near him at them. Then he fired the exploding curses at them."

Dumbledore winced at the bloody image that brought back memories of the things he'd seen during the second of the muggle great wars. "I see… and that… subdued them?"

The feral grin on Moody's face shot that hope down immediately. "Nope. The bastard then summoned all those little exploded pieces and animated them into something that finished tearing them apart."

"I… see," Dumbledore stated uneasily. "You… approve his actions, Alastor?"

"He got me looking into what's been happening, that this wasn't the first, Albus. This wasn't even close to the first, and they've been happening more and more frequently. Someone has been building up something, Albus, and they're starting them out on muggles to blood 'em and get them ready to go."

"How many, Alastor?" Dumbledore asked quietly as he stared back at his friend.

"Too many, Albus," Moody stated seriously. "Far too many and buried in the files slated for destruction at the end of the year."

"I see," Dumbledore stated as he sighed and slumped in his chair. "So, it's going to start up again then."

"Albus, were you not listening to me? It already has started up again," Alastor stated. "But this Storm Chaser… what he did to them, that's going to put a wrench in the works for whomever did this. He walked away with nary a scratch, and he's not you. They won't be able to let that stand. And the longer he fights, and the more of them he takes down… the harder it's going to be for whomever is behind this to keep up recruiting. It's a lot different to talk about doing something to a muggle whom can't fight back. It's another to have to pick a fight with someone who's good enough to have slaughtered a small group."

"Assuming, however, news of this gets out," Dumbledore pointed out. "If there weren't any survivors…"

"Oh, I never said there weren't any survivors," Alastor stated simply. "I'm certain enough he let one of them go, just to send the message."

"You are rather inordinately pleased with this," Albus stated quietly with a hint of disapproval. "Do you not fear the escalation in response to this?"

"If you think escalation wasn't inevitable with a group like this, you've gone daft," Alastor snapped back. "Or did you learn nothing from how Grindelwald's muggle puppet started?"

Dumbledore refused to flinch at the accusation. "What do you expect me to do, Alastor? Above all other things, I am a teacher. I educate. I am not a warrior. I fight only as the ultimate resort."

"And if your ultimate resort had been sooner, how many more people would've been still alive?" Alastor stated pointedly.

The look that Dumbledore gave him was less than pleased. "And again, what would you have me do?"

"Let the warrior do what needs to be done," Alastor stated simply. "Don't try to lecture him, don't try to talk down to him. You had your chance to save these men and women."

"They were my students, Alastor. Do you expect me to simply stand by and let them die?" Dumbledore demanded.

"If they never learned what you taught, were they really?" Alastor pointed out.

"Even if they didn't see me that way, that is how I see them," Dumbledore stated as he met Alastor's eyes defiantly.

"And how much blood will they have to spill before it's enough to make you wash your hands of them?" Alastor asked before shook his head as he stood up. "They've left these halls, Albus. They have grown to men and women. They have made their choice. They are the ones who have to deal with the repercussions."

"What kind of teacher will I be if I do nothing?"

"The kind that understands that life is a harsher and truer teacher than we can ever be," Alastor stated simply as he moved back to the fire. "One who can and will end us for failing to heed its lessons.

"Now, someone's come along to show them that the lesson they've learned about power and fear cuts both ways," he continued as he tossed the floo powder onto the fire place. "Those that use, revel in it, and seek power from it can and will be cut down by it when they've pushed it too far."

And then, in a flash of emerald flame, Alastor Moody was gone, and Albus Dumbledore was left alone with his thoughts.

Harry sighed as he quietly ate the meal lain out in front of him. He'd gotten a decent bit of cash for the bits of jewelry he'd filched off of the proto-Death eater corpses at a number of pawn shops. More than enough for a decent night's stay and a few meals at a nice muggle place in rural Scotland, not too far from Hogsmeade.

After a less than pleasant night, full of worries, tossing and turning, he had woken, had a meal and then proceeded to hop around until he'd managed to get himself to the Gaunt shack. With a few quick spells a creeping ivy was engorged and then carefully tearing the basement of the house apart until it found the ring buried deep inside the basement. He was rather certain of the find, as the ivy was quickly withering away even as it brought the ring back out, until it would crumble to dust just as it reached a good ten feet from Harry.

"Well, that was certainly impressive," Harry muttered a bit and eyed the ring warily.

The ring was, quite honestly, the most dangerous of the horucruxes, though not for the reason Riddle had intended. He quickly fashioned a nearby stone into a box and carefully, without touching it, closed the ring inside of it. He then walked to one of the trees and began a subtle bit of transfiguration.

It wasn't his forte to say the least but he was still able to open up a knot in the tree and carefully inserted the stone container into it. That would throw Riddle off his game if he came to check the status of his ring. And the stone should protect the tree from the withering curse while he gathered the necessary basilisk venom to destroy it.

He already had plans for how to deal with the locket. However that and the diadem were the only ones he really knew where to find. The diary and the cup were somewhere in Voldemort's possession. Without them he'd need another way of dealing with Voldemort himself.

A slightly wicked smile curled over his lips as he thought about it.

It was such a horrible, horrible shame that he'd spent so much time researching and fantasizing ways of dealing with wizards foolish enough to condemn themselves to eternal limbo for an extension of their time on Earth.

Still, it had been a productive day, all in all, which brought him back to his little inn and a nice warm dinner. Then, just as he was about to bite into the nice meal, he was treated to the sight of one Fenrir Greyback walking into the inn and walking over to the bar. And one particular couple, one with their young children did not seem in the least bit particularly happy to see him.

He cast them a leering grin, rough, almost jagged looking teeth, stained and yellowed flashed, dark and predatory. They in turn moved their bodies in front of their children. Then, when Fenrir ordered a pint, they stood, left money on the table and walked out.

Harry watched Fenrir out of the corner of his eye as he continued to eat his meal. The werewolf was in no apparent rush, drinking one pint and then another with a grin. It was only knowing what he looked for that let Harry watch the way he kept glancing out the window, watching the slow descent of the sun.

When the time was right, he paid his tab and leisurely walked back out.

Harry calmly finished the last bite of his meal and then moved towards the door.

"Excuse me, sir?" the barkeep called, visibly nervous. "You might want to head up to your room for the night. We've been having… wild dog attacks at night of late. Best to be safe."

"I appreciate the concern," Harry stated with a smile, "but, I find myself in need of my constitutional, and I'm sure that any dogs I come across will be sent off, tails between their legs."

"Sir…" the barkeep tried again only Harry was already walking out the door. He could see Fenrir in the distance, leisurely taking his time. A simple one way silencing spell and then a scent masking spell and he was walking after him.

It didn't take them long to move away from the houses and roads, Fenrir was apparently far more comfortable away from civilization. Unfortunately for him, while it wasn't his preference, Harry had long since gotten used to it as well. As they went, spells were quietly shot onto stones and the earth.

Great stone jaguars began to stalk through the cold moorland at Harry's side while beneath the earth wyrms dug and followed him in growing number.

Something people forgot when facing werewolves. Yes, their hide was magically resistant. That resistance meant that things like stunners and various other magic cast upon them simply failed to affect them in any significant manner. That did not mean that they were resistant to creations of animated stone, earth and metal beating them into bloody pulps.

That they healed back up from it without a scratch as long as you didn't use silver just made it easier usually.

So, he followed him, until he could see him waiting at something, beginning to slowly pace about the empty air in front of him. A ward of some kind then. So the family from earlier wasn't foolish enough to think Greyback was just there to intimidate them.

Harry watched as he cast a quick series of spells upon the nearby trees, causing their trunks to shift into a semblance of gruesome, hungry faces as their roots twisted and pulsed lightly. A softening charm made them flexible, while a spot of transfiguration gave them the look of a hungering treant. The animation charm was limiting its actions to the roots for now, adding to the subtle wrongness of the atmosphere and keeping the spell active.

It was then that Harry could see it happening, and he had to admit, he was impressed with the skill Greyback employed as he almost simultaneously broke the protective wards and set up an anti-apparition ward of his own.

And he seemed to have timed his actions almost perfectly. "Little pigs, little pigs, I think I'll just let myself in!"

Almost as soon as he finished his declaration, the change began to overtake the wizard as his body changed and distorted into its growing, lupine form.

"Personally," Harry stated, drawing the transforming werewolf's attention, "I think this is more little red riding hood than three little pigs."

Then a banished stone cracked Greyback right on his growing snout, making the werewolf let off a whining howl of pain and anger.

"And I feel like playing the huntsman."

Greyback was lunging for him already, moving with the speed and power that had made him feared as one of the most dangerous combatants of the second wizarding war. Harry had almost forgotten that fact as he barely had time to drop an explosive hex between them, sending up earth and stone in a spray at the great beast. It did little more than give the monster pause as it turned great, baleful blue eyed glare upon him and let out a challenging howl.

"Yes, yes, I know," Harry stated mildly as he kept his wand at the ready. "Werewolves are strong and resistant to most magic cast upon them."

It was then that one of the wyrms he created earlier exploded from the earth and snapped down upon the werewolf's thigh.

Ignoring the growing bellow Harry looked back at Greyback and noted, "What they are not, however, is immune to stone and earth and a variety of other things given form, purpose and power."

With an angry swipe of one hand Greyback smashed through the wyrm's head, reducing it to nothing but falling, loose earth. Only to have another one of the wyrms leap up and grab onto his arm. With another howl he moved to crush the offending creation only to be knocked to the ground as one of the stone jaguars rushed forward and slammed itself into his stomach, teeth and claws tearing into any piece of flesh they could.

Still, Greyback was not one to be so easily taken down. With another howl he managed to toss the stone jaguar aside and then smashed the earthen wyrm into it until it collapsed, freeing his arm. In a blur of motion he had lunged forward and smashed into Harry, victoriously clamping down on the arm reflexively raised in front of his mouth.

Only, he couldn't feel the cloth tearing and the flesh giving way beneath his mouth as the cloth managed to hold up easily enough against his teeth. Refusing to allow Greyback any further advantages Harry send a strong cutting curse straight into the werewolf's groin. As he released Harry's arm reflexively, Harry's other hand lashed out and smashed into his throat, reducing the howl to a gurgling gasp for breath.

As he struggled to recover his breath Greyback lifted up a clawed hand, ready to slash across Harry's face, only to find an eruption of roots grabbing hold of his arms and neck, flinging him back. Pulled onto his back he suddenly found another pair of the stone jaguars pouncing on each of his arms and then burying their teeth in his shoulders, just above his armpits. His legs were then caught by more of the wyrms, biting into his ankles and knees, trying to crush the joints and ligaments in their maws.

Greyback howled again.

Pushing himself up, Harry shook his arm and studied his still unbroken sleeve before sighing in relief, "Well, thank bloody Merlin for unbreakable charms."

Shaking his head he stood up, stretching a bit as he watched Greyback struggling beneath the heavy forms keeping him down. The werewolf was bloodied and visibly injured as it snarled beneath the creatures of animated stone and earth. He might be captured but he wasn't about to give up trying to rend Harry limb from limb for his actions.

"Yes, yes, you're the big bad wolf," Harry stated with a snort as he conjured a rolled up newspaper and smacked Greyback on his still-broken snout. "Now, quiet. The nice man is terrified enough as is."

And Harry then looked pointedly at the trembling father of the family he'd noticed in earlier, barely able to hold his wand as he stared in disbelief at what he saw.

"I-is… is th-that, G-greyback…?" The man was barely able to string his words together as he stared shakily at the werewolf struggling to get free.

"Yes," Harry agreed as he gave another smack on the snout when the werewolf snapped his jaws in Harry's direction. "Nasty brute he is. Saw him and the way he was leering and figured it'd be best if I followed him and found out what he was up to. Though, given his preferences, it wasn't hard to see."

"P-p-prefer-rences?" the wizard repeated.

"Turn the kids, probably kill the parents," Harry stated calmly. "I'm probably going to have trouble transporting him to the authorities."

"T-trouble?" the wizard asked as his terror started to return.

"Don't worry about it," Harry stated simply. "I can guarantee your family won't have much to worry about. Why don't you go back and get your wards back up? I'll be taking care of this trash."

"I… Who… who are you?" the wizard asked.

"Oh, I go by the Storm Chaser," Harry said easily before gesturing with his wand as his creations began to drag the werewolf away. "Do you mind if I take your tree with me? It seems a shame to separate them at this point."

"… Go ahead." the wizard agreed dumbly.

"Jolly good," Harry agreed with a nod before looking back meaningfully towards the man's home. "Though… family? Wards?"

"Ah, right!" the man stated with a quick nod before hesitating a moment. "I… Thank you, sir."

"Happy to help," Harry stated cheerfully before again smacking Greyback on the nose when he tried to snap at anything that got close enough to his mouth.

Harry had the werewolf dragged a handy distance before he finally found a rather sizable pond.

"Well, Greyback, I'm afraid this is where we part ways," Harry stated calmly as he looked down at the still-struggling werewolf. "I'm sure the human part of you is thinking that you're going to figure out a way to get through this and then come after me."

He paused then and then looked coldly down at the man, "You won't. While fire and silver are the most obvious ways to kill a werewolf, they aren't the only ones."

The werewolf began to struggle all the more violently at Harry's words but the stone beasts holding him refused to let go as they began to drag him to the pond's edge. "And a mongrel like you should have been drowned and finished long ago."

The beast's eyes widened and he howled as he felt his body pulled into the water, the roots withdrawing. Harry, however, stared back into the werewolf's eyes as Greyback was pulled under the dark, black water. He watched as the form was completely pulled under after growing, thrashing struggles.

He waited there stone faced and patient as the animated constructs took him all the way to the deepest portion of the pond and held him there. He waited, watching as the bubbles burst forth a good number of minutes later. It was only another twenty minutes after that, that he finally nodded his head and turned away and headed back to his room.

The animation spells would release just before dawn, allowing the body to float up to the surface and be found. For the rest of the evening they would keep Greyback down in his temporary, watery grave. And both the wizarding and muggle worlds would sleep a bit safer because of it.

Cygnus Black frowned slightly as he lightly tapped a galleon down onto the stone table top in front of him in quiet contemplation in the tavern he made himself comfortable. He flipped it up, then caught it between his fingers and rolled it over his knuckles. Then he again resumed tapping it down on the table in front of him.

"I see you still haven't managed to get that habit of yours under control, Cygnus," a calm voice noted as a distinguished gentleman with wild, slightly greyed black hair and hazel eyes stated calmly.

"Uncle Charlus," Cygnus stated with a nod of his head as he looked at his Uncle.

"I expect there is a good reason that you wished to speak to me?" Charlus stated as he arched a brow back at the man as he slide into his seat across from the man in front of him. "Especially with such urgency?"

"… Have you heard about what happened in the muggle pub with the group that included the Lestrange heir?" Cygnus stated with an uncharacteristic bluntness.

"Terrible business," Charlus stated without an ounce of conviction.

"Bellatrix was there." Cygnus continued as if Charlus hadn't really spoken.

"Oh? I hadn't taken that particular one of your girls as having that kind of sense to deal with those idiots." Charlus stated with a snort and a shake of his head.

"She was there with Rodolphus Lestrange," Cygnus stated simply as he brought his galleon coin down with a pointed tap. "She watched him die in front of her."

"Ah," Charlus frowned a bit as he then leaned back and regarded his nephew carefully. "Then what exactly is it you wish from me?"

"She showed me the memory of what happened," Cygnus stated simply. "The wizard responsible was a Potter."

That bit of information made Charlus arch a brow and frown slightly. "Oh? I'm not sure I understand what you're saying."

"The wizard responsible cut them all down in a matter of moments," Cygnus stated firmly. "He was calm, brutal, efficient and most definitely a Potter."

There was a pause as Cygnus let that sink in before speaking again, "And he was not a Potter I recognized, and he identified himself as a half-blood."

Charlus frowned again, "There aren't any current Potter half-bloods."

"Nor were there any I didn't think I knew about, not until I saw her memory," Cygnus insisted. "He was visibly a Potter. But his eyes were a shade of green I'm not familiar with."

"Unique?" Charlus asked with a frown.

"Visibly so. He was young, early 20s I believe, glasses, classic Potter hair, definite Potter features, slighter of build but not overly so. Used what I think was a holly wand."

"That's a rare one," Charlus noted with a frown. "Have you tried checking with Ollivander to see if he's sold one to someone matching his description?"

"Yes," Cygnus said with a nod of his head. "He hasn't. But he did mention a curious happening. One of his wands, a holly with a phoenix feather core one, reacted in a peculiar manner a few days ago, not too terribly long before the attack happened."

"Peculiar in what manner?" Charlus asked with a frown.

"He wouldn't say," Cygnus admitted with a frown of his own. "Just made sure to state that it was most peculiar and unexpected."

"Damned Ollivanders and their riddles," Charlus stated with a sour frown. "So, what is it that you were hoping from me? Confirmation on who he is?"

"That and hoping you had a clue to what he knows and his motivations," Cygnus stated. "He allowed Bellatrix to live, to give a message to the Knights of Walpurgis."

"A message?" Charlus asked with an arched brow, before smirking slightly. "That must have left the girl thrilled."

"She's become infatuated with him," Cygnus said sourly. "Hence why I was hoping you'd know something about him, anything. It's going to be difficult enough dealing with the repercussions of her decision to pursue a half-blood. I know Walburga is going to be particularly difficult to deal with."

"I imagine so," Charlus agreed, before smirking softly. "Of course now I'd like to see how this half-blood Potter would react to meeting her."

"She is still my sister," Cygnus stated with a frown. "She's just…"

"An insufferable harpy?" Charlus suggested. "I pity poor Sirius and Regulus."

"Yes, well…" Cygnus sighed a bit as he leaned back. "If this Potter continues to make waves, he's going to create a third side of things just being acting as he is, and developing followers of his own."

"A third side of things?" Charlus asked with a brow arching up and then he frowned. "… Cygnus, what're you talking about?"

Cygnus stared at Charlus for a moment, as if weighing a decision in his mind, before speaking. "You are aware of the growing… confidence of certain … like-minded individuals?"

"You mean the blood purists like your family." Charlus said bluntly.

Cygnus' frown deepened before he continued, "Yes, well, there has been… an Organizing of them. A group called the Knights of Walpurgis. They were the ones behind the attack that night."

Charlus frowned a bit as he looked at Cygnus with a critical eye, "You aren't telling me this because they're a group of foolish, violent thugs. There is more to it than that, isn't there."

"Their leader, their Lord, is too ambitious, too charismatic and determined for that," Cygnus elaborated. "He has been training them. He has been blooding them against muggle families, using them to hone their masteries of the Dark Arts. The true Dark Arts."

The click in Charlus' mind was almost audible as he made the connection of what Cygnus was alluding to, "… You're talking about a rebellion. No… you're talking about the rise of a new Dark Lord."

Cygnus simply nodded, "One whose cause we had, until this happened, been almost unanimously in support of. The removal of the taint of mudbloods and the subjugation of the muggles."

"… And what makes you sure it will be turn to war?"

"Because the message that Bellatrix was given, was to 'Tell Tom Riddle his war won't be as easy as he thought,'" Cygnus stated simply. "This Potter knows something."

Charlus looked into Cygnus' eyes for a long moment, before frowning. "He scares you."

"If he is truly a half-blood, he terrifies me," Cygnus admitted quietly. "You didn't see what I saw, Uncle Charlus. He slaughtered them. No hesitation, he cut them down as they would've cut down him and everyone else in that pub. Only, without an ounce of malice or even an inkling of the Dark Arts. He didn't even attempt to take them alive or stun them."

"Then there's your second clue," Charlus stated simply and quietly. "He's a war veteran. Most of them are retired now, but the ones that saw enough action against Grindelwald's forces… Veterans of heavy action don't become so without doing away with things like hesitation."

"He can't one from the war against Grindelwald. He's too young." Cygnus insisted.

"Then he's from a foreign war," Charlus insisted. "Maybe in that nightmare over in Vietnam where the Frenchies kept convincing anyone they could to get their hands dirty so they could keep theirs clean. Merlin knows they were free enough with it on the colonials, though the Vietnamese's compulsions on their reporters was a nasty bit of work."

"If he survives and keeps up his little streak… he won't stand for the way the Ministry and Dumbledore will approach it," Cygnus stated quietly. "And he'll attract people that would've stayed on the fence otherwise."

"A three way civil war," Charlus stated with a disgusted grimace.

"One which I need to have a talk with this unknown before I know where I and my family will stand," Cygnus agreed.

"… And you know that I'll want to know about how a Potter managed to slip under my nose," Charlus stated with a frown. "So you want me to help you find him."

"Why do you think I'm being so painfully honest about things, Uncle?" Cygnus responded with a wry smirk.

"I had been wondering," Charlus muttered sourly.

"It's agreed then?" Cygnus asked.

"Fine, I'll help you in your little quest," Charlus agreed, "but only to help you find him so we can both have a talk with him."

"Agreed."