Chapter 19: Rise

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The Dark Lord looked upon the discarded newspapers that he had accumulated over the past few days, his head shaking in disbelief and confusion. Not only had his plan to implicate Potter in the death of his brother, albeit concocted hastily, fail spectacularly but the political field had been altered and not likely in his favour.

With Fudge in power, Lucius would have been able to manipulate situations to his advantage, had laws passed or at the very least diverted unwanted attention away from what he was doing. That advantage was no more. Potter's article detailing his return had seen to that. Even if he were not believed, the wizarding population would be cautious and the Lords would only install someone into the office of Minister who had no questionable past or links to his movement.

Worst still was the revelation that Potters closest confidant was in Azkaban with his most loyal followers. Lord Voldemort was aware that the Blacks had a long reach but was it so vast that such a coup was possible?

He knew not and he was not willing to risk such a threat to his most devout. He needed to liberate them, and soon.

All of this, troubling as it was, could not compare to the fury he was feeling having learnt of the fate of Corban Yaxley. Any aspersions that could have been cast on Potter's version of events were null now that a prominent member of society had been murdered under the guise of his own mark. He had ordered no such thing, yet it would be him blamed for the act. Again, the Blacks were undoubtedly involved in this and the Dark Lord couldn't help but think he may have made an error in provoking them when his control over even his own men was tenuous at best.

The family had officially taken a neutral stance in the previous conflict with the exception of Bellatrix and Regulus. Pondering the latter, he stilled. Regulus had proven to be a traitor, the first and only to discover his secret only due to his own hubris. He had not expected the boy to take such an interest in what he'd borrowed the elf for. Evidently, he had but Regulus Black certainly was not in any position to have told any of his findings. He had been located within minutes of breaching the wards in the cave and disposed of quickly, his secret taken to a watery grave amongst the rest of his inferi.

He shook his head, not allowing the errors of his past haunt him further. It was here and now that required his focus and his next step had been decided. He would free those loyal to him from their incarceration and add the Dementors to his steadily growing numbers. Potter and the Blacks may have been busy but he had been equally so. His numbers were growing and those of value would further his course at the earliest possible time, a time fast approaching.

With the public focused on the election of a new minister, their attention would be far from the fortress out to sea where he would make his next move.

(BREAK)

For days, Katei Bell had struggled with the knowledge that Leo had been locked away in Azkaban and she was none-the-wiser as to why or what had happened. She was terrified, angry that no one had the decency to tell her. Instead, she'd had to learn of his fate when Rita Skeeter's article about the Dark Lord's return had been published.

She'd tried to send an owl to Harry, but to no avail. Evidently, he was somewhere warded against such means of communication. Her efforts rebuffed, she had taken to spending much of her time in her room, worrying about her idiot boyfriend.

Angelina and Alicia had both been over to offer her comfort, though it had done little to lift her mood. Even her mother didn't know what to say to her and her father had been rather silent on the matter.

She did not want to be comforted, she found and she did not want platitudes. She wanted answers and she was running out of ideas on where she would get them. She had considered going to Dumbledore but had her doubts he would be of help. He would offer her a confusing line or two and send her on her way with a smile. That would not suffice.

She huffed as she continued staring at the blank ceiling above from her position on the bed. She was furious with him but she missed him also. She wasn't sure if she would squeeze the life out of him when she saw him next or send a couple of rogue bludgers after the boy. What she did know was that she was not content with waiting. If she heard nothing of his fate soon, she would take matters into her own hands. Someone at the ministry would have the answers she sought, and with Fudge seemingly having run away, people may be more likely to talk.

(BREAK)

From the moment the revelations had been made in Fudge's office, life for Amelia Bones had been nothing but stress upon stress. The aforementioned Minister had vanished, his financial activity criminally suspicious. The fool had the gall to supplement his own wealth with funds from the ministry clearly believed he could get away with it. She'd had her best aurors looking for the man, to no avail. Wherever Cornelius Fudge had vanished to was far enough away from her reach.

She clenched her fists under her desk. She wanted him in custody, would take joy in seeing him in cuffs for all he had done over the years.

If Fudge was her only problem, she would be ecstatic. The whispers of the Dark Lord's return were growing louder, a disappearance here or the odd attack occurring in the same manner the Death Eaters of old would carry them out. Most disturbing however, was the murder of Corban Yaxley.

Amelia could only assume he had done something to provoke the ire of Voldemort. From what she believed, Yaxley was an ally of many of those who followed the man, him being one of those also or so he was accused and acquitted.

Whomever had attacked Yaxley had made him suffer. What remained of his corpse had not been pleasant to look upon. Both arms and legs were missing and he'd been subject to considerable torture and yet, no trace of his assailant was to be found, only the Dark Mark above his abode.

She rubbed her eyes as she looked over the report the two investigating aurors had drawn up, neither hopeful at identifying the perpetrator.

Rufus was adamant he wanted the person or people responsible found and refused to accept there were no leads, even after perusing the file himself. The man had been made interim Minister, a permanent position, wizengamot vote pending. He would be a good choice. He was incorruptible, of sound military mind and would make the difficult decisions with due haste, all of which would be needed in the coming months.

Scrimgeour aside, there was one other Amelia wished to speak with, though reaching him had proven to be impossible. Harry Black had born witness to the resurrection of the Dark Lord and she would have his version of events in person. There were far too many variables and far too many connected events for everything that had happened to simply be a coincidence and she had her suspicions that Harry Black was somehow what connected them all.

Not that she had any proof of course.

For all intents and purposes, Harry Black was a victim of circumstance, one who had the admiration of the people and was essentially untouchable as things stood. If his involvement with anything that had happened was beyond being present when Voldemort re-emerged, it would be damned difficult to prove. Cornelius had disappeared and no one else was talking. The Blacks had not been seen nor heard from since the day they left Hogwarts and her only way to a conversation with a member of the family would not return for a few days yet.

She would have Nymphadora Tonks in her office the moment she returned along with Rufus who had already broached the subject with her only yesterday.

What interest he had in the girl, she didn't know. Whatever it was, Amelia could only hope that her auror had not been compromised, was still as dedicated to her role and loyal to the ministry.

She had questioned the nature of her relationship with Black and had even encouraged it. Amelia couldn't help but feel that she may have made an error. She could only hope her feelings on the matter were off the mark, though she had her doubts.

(BREAK)

Arcturus Black took a swig of his coffee as he sat at the table, his body still recovering from his efforts in dealing with Cornelius Fudge. He had been gleeful, ecstatic even that his plan had gone off without a hitch, though it had drained him physically. He had spent the following days resting, reminiscing how in his younger years such efforts would have left negligible effects in the aftermath. This endeavour however, had left him drained. The sheer amount of magic used to infiltrate the admittedly impressive wards around the Minister's home and carry out his work had been considerable.

"Feeling better?" the voice of his heir interrupted as he entered the room.

"Much," the older man replied, gracing the boy with a rare smile.

He watched as Harry busied himself with preparing breakfast before joining him at the table. It was early, the sun still not risen and it would be some time before Sirius or Cassie woke. Harry was like him in this regard, both early risers, not wanting to waste time with something so frivolous as extra sleep, not when there were things that required their attention.

"Something on your mind?" Arcturus questioned, noticing a frown marring Harry's features.

The boy paused his eating, frown deepening as he released a deep breath.

"I'm still not sure it was wise revealing that Leo is in Azkaban. There are so many things that could go wrong."

Arcturus nodded his agreement.

"There are risks," he conceded. "However, him knowing he is there will force his hand. He will not be willing to chance his most loyal followers with a threat as considerable s the one Leo poses to them. He will act quickly and in doing so, will be reckless. A perfect opportunity that we would be foolish to not take advantage of."

"I know," Harry answered. "I just don't like how risky it is."

Arcturus nodded his understanding.

"He will be fine and with your input, he will escape so long as he's not foolish enough to attempt to engage the Dark Lord."

Harry snorted.

"This is Leo we are talking about."

Arcturus grinned.

"He's a brash fool at times but not with something like this," he offered assuredly. "Have you made your preparations."

"I finished them last night. That cloak is something else. I just walked in without anyone knowing a thing about it."

Arcturus frowned. Invisibility cloaks were useful but not infallible and certainly not capable of breaching wards. He knew not where it originated from but it was proving to be the useful tool.

"Do you have any ideas of where it came from?"

Harry shrugged.

"There are so many different magics interwoven into the thing that it is impossible to tell. Whoever made it knew what they were doing or had one fortunate accident whilst trying to create something else."

"Something to ponder another time," Arcturus offered, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Whatever it is, I have no doubt you will figure it out, now, whom is it you will be visiting next?"

"I've been keeping an eye on Walden MacNair. He's been tasked with negotiating with the giants on mainland Europe. I don't think that is an advantage we want them to have."

"It is not," Arcturus sighed. "How did you learn of this?"

Harry chuckled.

"He was talking quite openly about it in a pub."

"Imbecile," Arcturus growled. "Do not underestimate him however, Harry, MacNair is a very dangerous man."

"I'm not. I know exactly what he is capable of."

"Good," Arcturus praised. "You deal with him and I will be working on some political issues."

"Like, who is going to replace Fudge?"

"Exactly," the older man confirmed.

"So, not Scrimgeour?"

Arcturus shook his head.

"I have a couple of people in mind I believe would be most beneficial to us but one would be much easier to elevate to the position."

"Bones?"

Arcturus nodded.

"However, I think she is better suited to leading the DMLE. She is the witch we need in charge of the aurors, not behind a bloody desk."

"Who else then?"

"That, my boy, is something I am still considering. All will be revealed in due course," Arcturus explained as he stood and took his leave.

Harry could only watch as the man exited. Shaking his head, he began pondering his own work and what needed to be done. He cared not who was made Minister. It would only become an issue if that person intervened in his own efforts, something that he would not allow. Along with his own personal feelings, he was more focused on the impending funeral of his brother that would take place within the week. Whomever his grandfather saw fit to take was fine by him.

(BREAK)

Entering the Ministry on her return to duties was a strange experience, the usually sedate place of workers stopping for conversations with peers or those loitering in the atrium were all but absent. Now, most walked with purpose, deigning none with polite chatter and only short nods of acknowledgement as greeting seemed to be customary. Ignoring this noticeable change, she made it into the lift and exited on the floor that would lead her to her tiny cubicle and hopefully a desk devoid of work needing to be completed.

She snorted. Though she had been away for some time, there would undoubtedly be something that required her attention.

She found her space the way it had been left, well, almost. There was no paperwork, no files nor anything that required her attention other than her boss seated in her chair, awaiting her arrival.

"It's good to have you back, Auror Tonks. I'd like you to join me in my office in five minutes."

"Yes, ma'am," Tonks complied, frowning as Amelia Bones left her cubicle without preamble.

"Not in trouble already are you, Tonks?" Kingsley interrupted, his head appearing above the wall that separated their stations.

She shrugged non-committedly.

She'd been having a spate of mixed emotions to returning to work. A part of her couldn't wait to get back to normality but the other side wanted no part of it. Her idyllic view of her job had been shattered having witnessed her own colleague's corruption when they attempted to arrest Harry and even her own superior had interfered in her personal life. She believed Amelia had her best interests at heart but from what she witnessed over this past year, even those supposed to be the best of them had fallen from grace. It had left her with a rather jaded view of those she had once held in high esteem.

"Aren't I always?" she quipped.

Kingsley chuckled and shook his head before disappearing from view. She liked Kingsley, respected his morals and prowess with a wand but she could no longer trust the man. He had chosen his side and she hers.

With a sigh, she made her way towards Madame Bones' office and knocked.

"Come in," the stern voice of the woman commanded.

Bracing herself, Tonks opened the door and found herself facing Madame Bones, as expected. What she had not been expecting was the presence of Rufus Scrimgeour, former head of the auror department and now interim minister of magic. His keen yellow eyes were unnerving as ever and she fought against a nervous shudder that threatened to overcome her as they took in her appearance.

"Take a seat, Tonks," Amelia almost barked, gesturing to a chair in front of the desk.

Scrimgeour perched himself on the side of the desk, waiting for her to do as she was bid.

"Now, as I said, it is good to have you back, Tonks. We must, however, put any concerns that may exist to rest," Amelia began diplomatically.

Scrimgeour snorted derisively as he shook his head.

"Concerns is putting it lightly, Bones. She is associated with a person of interest in a murder investigation. It is downright alarming," Scrimgeour countered.

"Have you not seen the memory that Harry provided? Do you not think you should be focusing on dealing with Voldemort?" Tonks bit back. "He allowed you to see the memory so that you can prepare. Instead, you're trying to pin it on the person who has opened your eyes to the danger we are facing."

"All unsubstantiated claims," Scrimgeour dismissed.

"Unsubstantiated?" Tonks retorted. "Death Eaters attacked the Quidditch world cup, the Triwizard tournament was riddled with activities matching their motives and you have a verified memory of Voldemort's rise and him murdering Charlie Potter."

Scrimgeour shook his head.

"On the word and memory of a boy with questionable motives. You are allowing your personal feelings to interfere with your judgement, Auror Tonks."

"No, you're just too blind to see what is right in front of you. Are you scared, Scrimgeour?"

The man's face reddened in fury.

"How dare you," he spat.

"I dare," Tonks seethed as she stood. "You need to get your head out of your arse if you expect us to stand a chance against him. The longer it takes for you to accept he is back, the more people will be needlessly murdered and their blood will be on your hands."

Rufus released a deep breath and took a moment to compose himself.

"I apologise for my comments. I made a judgement on someone I do not know. Forgive me, Auror Tonks, things are becoming very difficult around here."

Tonks nodded and waited for the man to continue, his sincerity not at all convincing.

"It is a very hard thing to accept, you must understand the devastation that was caused during the last war. Were it not for him falling to the Potters, I doubt we would have won. I simply wish to speak to him as the new minister of magic and see if bridges cannot be built between us."

Tonks shook her head.

"It would do no good. Harry will not trust the ministry after what Fudge did and he wants no involvement with wizarding Britain."

"Surely you are still in touch?" Amelia interjected.

"I haven't seen him since he returned home," Tonks replied which was not a complete lie. He was living in Grimmauld Place and she had seen him last night before he went there.

"Then we will put it on hold but I will be watching you, Auror Tonks," Scrimgeour warned irritably. "If I get any indication that you have been dishonest or prove to be a liability, you will never put on that damned uniform again."

"As you wish," Tonks answered. "Is there anything else?"

"You are dismissed," Amelia returned with a frown.

She watched as the young auror exited, her own mind whirring with doubt but none regarding the woman's ability to do her job.

"I don't like it, Bones. She's hiding something."

"So long as it doesn't impact us, what can we do?"

"If it were anyone else, they would be out of here and you know it. You've either gone soft or you are letting your personal feelings cloud your judgement."

Amelia raised a delicate brow at the man.

"That young woman is the best to walk through that door in years. Moody sees potential in her as do I," She replied. "If she proves to be a danger to us, she will be dealt with, but as things stand, it is her caught in a difficult position. I will not lose her because of this, Rufus. She is one of the best we have and will likely one day be sat in this very seat."

Scrimgeour snorted.

"She's a stubborn, stupid girl."

"And who does she remind you of?" Amelia growled.

Rufus deflated.

"She's very much like you were, Bones."

Amelia nodded.

"Not to be too immodest but I think if we had more aurors like myself and you were, this wouldn't be so daunting."

"So, you believe it too?"

Amelia nodded.

"The Blacks are not ones to put themselves in the public eye for no reason. I've seen enough to believe Harry Black and will act accordingly until proven otherwise."

Rufus released a deep breath and conceded her point with a nod.

"Proceed as you see fit, Amelia. Whatever you need will be made available."

"Thank you."

Outwardly Amelia Bones was as stoic as ever, her countenance belying the glee she felt within. Rufus had just given her exactly what she needed to bring the department up to par, though if time wasn't kind, it may already be too late.

(BREAK)

Albus Dumbledore watched as the members of the order talked amongst themselves, some bickering as they discussed the events that had been transpiring over the past days. Much had happened and even the headmaster himself was at a loss of how things could change so dramatically.

He knew Tom, had taught the boy throughout his years at Hogwarts. He had proven to be as shrewd as his ancestor, as ambitious but always patient, waiting until a situation was heavily to his advantage before striking. What had occurred these few days went against this. He knew not if the man had become impatient, overly keen to re-establish the same hold he once had over Britain or if something else entirely was afoot. Such risk was not Tom's practice.

Albus had been certain they would have weeks if not months at the very least before the man made his presence known once again, not mere days after his only partially successful return. Something was not right or something had changed in Tom for the worst. Dumbledore could always rely on Tom to be controlled in his dealings, it made him predictable to an extent had been beneficial only to the order for the most part. If Tom had indeed become so reckless, their struggles had only increased tenfold.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the arrival of Kingsley and Alastor, neither looking happy and both tired. He stood to greet them, the pockets of conversation falling silent as he exchanged a few words with the men before taking his seat.

"It has been a very odd week, one where we have been clouded with uncertainty as to what has been happening. I do believe that Alastor, Kingsley and Severus will be able to clear away any doubts we have," Albus assured the gathered order. "Alastor, if you wouldn't mind."

Moody stood, leaning his weight against his staff.

"Fudge is gone," he began with a shrug. "We've found more than enough evidence to see him in Azkaban for the rest of his days if we catch up to him. We found proof of bribery, misappropriation of funds and fraud. Scrimgeour is the interim minster and is likely to be voted in permanently."

Many muttered their displeasure with how Fudge had acted during his time in office, many shaking their head in disbelief at his level of deceit.

"What about the Yaxley murder?" Elphias Doge interjected.

Moody shook his head has he released a deep breath.

"We've got nothing," he announced. "No evidence, no suspects and no trace. The only thing we found was the Dark Mark above his house and what remained of him."

He shared a brief glance with Kingsley, who held his hands up but nodded for him to continue.

"What is more pressing is that another body was found this evening. Walden MacNair was murdered, tortured first and left under the Dark Mark. We are still investigating it but I think whoever did Yaxley in, did MacNair too."

A shocked silence fell over the room and even Dumbledore was surprised by the revelation.

"Severus?" he questioned.

Snape had paled further than what his already sallow skin usually showed as he shook his head.

"The Dark Lord was furious about Yaxley and will be even more so about MacNair. He was due to go to the continent and negotiate with the giants. He's not the most pleasant of men but he has a way with creatures."

"You're certain he ordered neither of these murders?"

Severus nodded.

"If it was just Yaxley, perhaps, but not Walden. He was far too valuable to the Dark Lord to be disposed off in such a way," Severus assured him.

Dumbledore sighed.

"Then it appears there is another seeking out the Death Eaters," he surmised.

"Good riddance to them," Moody growled. "Might make people think twice about joining them."

"So, the Ministry has no idea who is attacking them?" Molly Weasley questioned.

"No," Moody replied causing Kingsley to scoff.

"You know my thoughts on this, Alastor," he muttered.

"What is it you think, Kingsley?" Dumbledore pressed gently.

"The Blacks."

Albus nodded. He had thought of them also but had not wanted to consider the implications if they were involved. It would only complicate matters further. The Blacks could not be negotiated with nor would they work with him and the order. It was an additional thing he did not want to have to worry about.

"With no proof, how can you be so sure?" he returned.

"I can't," Shacklebolt admitted. "It is just a feeling."

"We can't arrest someone on a feeling," Moody pointed out.

"Or someone as protected as the Black family. Fudge saw to that," Arthur Weasley added.

Dumbledore held up his hands to settle the three men.

"What of young Nymphadora? I understand she has returned to duty."

"She's…not herself," Kingsley answered with a shake of his head. "She's distanced herself and will only speak to us about work. Black must have told her we are part of the order and she no longer trusts us."

Dumbledore sighed disappointedly.

"She would have been a fantastic asset," he mused aloud. "I fear it is something now beyond our control. If she feels we are against Harry, she will not side with us."

"Are we not against the Blacks if they are responsible?" Sturgis Podmore questioned.

Dumbledore shook his head as Moody snorted.

"If any of you feel up to crossing wands with the boy, then have at it," he growled amusedly. "I saw the memory of what he did to the Dark Lord and his followers and I certainly won't stand in his way if he has chosen to go against them. None of us will be the one to bring him down, I can promise you that. I dare say even Albus here would find him to be a challenge," he finished, jerking a gnarled thumb in the direction of the aged headmaster.

So, we let him keep murdering people?" Molly interjected disbelievingly.

"Death Eaters, Molly," Moody clarified with a grin, his scars stretching sinisterly across his features.

Before Molly could offer a rebuttal, Dumbledore spoke.

"I believe we have discussed all we can, for now," he announced. "Severus, I believe the Dark Lord should here of Walden's demise from yourself."

Snape offered no reply other than a slight bow before exiting the room.

"The rest of you, continue as you are and we will reconvene after young Charlie Potter has been buried. There is little else we can do until things begin to unfold as I suspect."

With a muttering of understanding and an exchange of farewells, the rest of the order exited with only Moody and Kingsley remaining behind.

"We need to talk, Albus," the grizzled auror stated.

Dumbledore gestured for the man to speak his mind.

"I will not be returning to teach this year. My place is out there, dealing with the scum."

Dumbledore sighed.

"I suspected that this would be the case, Alastor," he replied. "For what it is worth, I want to thank you for spending this past year at the school, your help has been invaluable to the students."

Moody nodded his acceptance of the praise.

"Make sure you get someone worth a damn to replace me. The brats will need all the help they can get."

Dumbledore's beard twitched with amusement. Alastor Moody was not a sentimental man and this was as close as one would get to eliciting any semblance of outward care or fondness.

"I will be certain to, old friend."

Moody again nodded and took his leave, every other step clunking against the stone floor of the office.

"I don't suppose you are here to offer your services as our next Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Kingsley?" Dumbledore asked, turning to the last remaining member of the order.

"Unfortunately, not," Kingsley confirmed. "I simply wanted to reiterate my certainty that the Blacks are behind these killings."

Dumbledore peered at the man over his half-moon spectacles appraisingly. Kingsley Shacklebolt had always been inquisitive as a student, exceedingly bright and gifted with practical magic more so. Being an auror was as natural to the man as breathing.

"I understand your thoughts, Kingsley, however, what I am about to say to you is for your own good. Do not antagonise the Blacks. It would do yourself nor our cause well. I know it is difficult to ignore your instincts, but it will only provoke an undesirable end. I truly wish I could say more but Harry Black is perhaps the only one of us that can put an end to the Dark Lord."

"But you…"

"Are old, not as capable as I once was and no longer have the ability to defeat Voldemort," Dumbledore interrupted bluntly. "In truth, he has always been beyond me. It is my experience that has ensured I survived each encounter with him."

Kingsley looked towards the older man he held much respect for in disbelief, his sage reply unexpected.

"So, our only hope is a boy that we don't know will even fight for us? A boy that is likely behind the brutal murder of others?"

Dumbledore bowed his head.

"I understand your reservations, my friend. However, I believe that Harry Black will prove to be a better man than any gives him credit for. His methods are questionable at best, unsavoury to people such as us, but can you deny that he will need this tenacity to be able to bring an end to the Dark Lord?"

Kingsley swallowed deeply before releasing a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Albus, I just can't put as much faith in him as you do."

Dumbledore nodded his understanding.

"I can assure you, that if I believe it is needed, I will personally intervene and do my best to put a stop to what he is doing. As things are, as unpleasant as his actions are proving to be, it is only benefiting our cause."

Kingsley nodded.

"I will take on board what you have said, Albus, but what about Tonks?"

Dumbledore sighed gently.

"Tell me, has Nymphadora ever proven to you to be a foolish girl?"

Kingsley frowned as he shook his head.

"She's one of the most intelligent people I know," he conceded.

"Then you should trust her, Kingsley. The only thing she is guilty of is falling in love and that may well prove to be what will bring this conflict to a satisfactory end."

"Love?" Kingsley questioned causing Dumbledore to chuckle.

"To a young man such as yourself, it may seem trivial. But love is one of the most powerful magics of all. When you live as many years as I have, you begin to understand the strength such a thing can give you."

Kingsley eyed the older man and found himself smirking. Dumbledore was a rather strange, eccentric man. There was, however, no denying his brilliance. He had proven to be one of the greatest wizards in recent times, perhaps ever and Kingsley Shacklebolt, though sceptical, had no reason to begin doubting the man he had chosen to follow now.

(BREAK)

Arcturus Orion Black paused as he reached the gates to the estate, his mind still carrying the vestiges of doubt to what he was about to do. He had pondered his options carefully, pros and cons and how such a decision could impact his family. He was anything if careful when it came to those of his blood, thus, his decision had not been made lightly. Though it may be surprising even to himself, he could think of no better man than to take the mantle of Minister of Magic.

He pushed open the gate and headed towards the front door, the lawns on either side of the path immaculate and house as imposing as any that he himself owned.

With a sharp series of taps from his knuckles, he waited to be bid to enter. Had he not prearranged the meeting, he certainly would not have made this far into the property uninhibited and would likely be dead already.

After a moment or so, the door opened and he was greeted by the lady of the house who eyed him warily.

"Come in, Lord Black," she offered, satisfied that it was indeed him that had arrived at the abode.

Arcturus merely nodded politely as he crossed the threshold, his eyes scanning the foyer expectantly.

"May I take your coat? My husband is in the dining room."

"Thank you," Arcturus returned as handed the garment to the woman.

She hung it on a rack by the front door and gestured for him to follow. Entering the dining room, he was met with the sight of a large oak table, not dissimilar to the ones own by the Black family and the man he had come to visit waiting expectantly for his arrival.

"I can't say I wasn't surprised by your request to see me," the man greeted him. "What can I do for you, Lord Black?"

Not one to waste time on the exchanging of pleasantries, Arcturus felt it prudent to get to the point, lest he were to hinder himself by falling into a conversation he did not want to have.

"I want you to be the Minister of Magic," he announced without preamble.

James Potter looked at him, baffled and eyes wide in surprise.

"I'm s-sorry, what?" he stuttered.

"Don't act the bloody simpleton, Potter. I want you to be the next Minister," Arcturus clarified.

James frowned as he shook his head, processing the request that had been made of him.

"Why?" he asked eventually.

"Because there is no one that wants Voldemort gone more than you. Because you are the only person I trust to do whatever you can to keep Harry safe and because you are a damn sight better than any other option there is."

James stared into his eyes, searching for any sincerity in the words spoken.

"I'm not a politician."

"You're a Potter. Being a leader is in your blood. Your father would have been a fine Minister and I think you could be too."

James released a deep breath.

"Our reputation isn't exactly good," he pointed out.

"If you are endorsed by the Blacks, I can make it happen. The Wizengamot would vote you in without too many issues. No one knows who they can trust right now but none of them could doubt how much a Potter would want to put an end to him. Show that you have some balls about you and I will do the rest."

"I'm an auror, I should be out there," James responded, pointing out of the window to his left.

"Being minister doesn't mean you can't be. You'll be damn respected if you threw yourself into the thick of it."

James sighed, unable to find any other counter.

"You'd trust me in that position?"

Arcturus shrugged.

"I'd trust you to not be stupid enough to get in Harry's way."

"Harry's?" Lily broke in.

Arcturus' grin was feral was he turned to the woman.

"Who do you think it is hunting down Voldemort's people? He got Yaxley and is going after MacNair tonight," he explained.

"He can't do that," Lily whispered. "Please, you have to stop him. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to him."

Arcturus shook his head.

"I couldn't stop him if I wanted to. He cared for your boy and he won't let any of the bastards off the hook. He made his decision and I support him. It is those he targets you should feel sorry for."

Before Lily could speak, James placed a comforting hand on her forearm and squeezed gently.

"I'll do it," he declared. "I'll put my name forward if it helps keep Harry safe."

Arcturus nodded.

"Good. Make sure you are at the meeting next week and I will arrange everything else."

James stood and offered his hand to the older man.

"I won't let Harry down, not again," he said sincerely.

Arcturus gazed into the man's eyes and offered his own hand in return.

"See that you don't, Potter. I will not have him harmed because of anything you do."

James nodded sincerely, his wand snapping into his hand as a streak of blinding white light entered the room and coalesced into a large snake with three heads.

"We need to talk at your earliest convenience," the voice of Harry sounded throughout the room, the three pairs of eyes firmly on James and Lily Potter.

Arcturus frowned at the serpent as the husband and wife shared a look of shock.

"I think he means now," he broke in. "Harry does not like to be kept waiting."

James nodded as he fired off a patronus of his own, his stag cantering through the wall and disappearing into the grounds.

"Did you know abut this?" Lily asked suspiciously.

Arcturus shook his head.

"I can assure you I had no idea. I will however be present. I'm very interested in what my heir wishes to discuss with you both so urgently."

(BREAK)

Harry sat at his desk, freshly showered. The death of Walden MacNair had not been clean, far from it. MacNair had suffered, more so than Yaxley as was fitting to his crimes. The walls of his home were adorned with the many heads of creatures he had disposed of over the years, his mind awash with executions of those, men, women and children alike. It was easy to see why he was held in such favour with the Dark Lord. His own proclivities were similar to those of Tom and it felt only right he suffered the same end as most of his victims. Harry had enjoyed taken anything of worth from his mind, taking his vengeance in strips of flesh and eventually removing the man's head, placing it on a plaque waiting to be used above his own fireplace.

He absentmindedly picked up the stone he had retrieved from the Gaunt shack, rolling it in his grip as he reaffirmed his reasons for doing what he was, the magic washing over him eerily comforting.

As it often did now, his mind wandered to thoughts of his brother. Would he hate him for what he did? Would he be disgusted or would he understand?

"I don't know, Charlie," he sighed. "Maybe you were too sheltered to understand."

"Well, I was more sheltered than you," a voice broke into his reverie snapping Harry into action.

In the blink of an eye, he was on his feet, wand in hand and pointing to where the intrusion had sounded. He could only gape at the visage of his brother, his skin and hair mottled with grey and the usual brown of his eyes black, devoid of anything the boy represented.

"C-Charlie?" he gasped.

The boy smiled at him, though it lacked any warmth.

"Something like that," Charlie replied with a frown.

"H-how did you get here?"

Charlie shrugged.

"You tell me, Harry. You summoned me."

Harry loosened the grip he held on the stone and stared at it lying in his palm and then at his brother once more. Realising what had happened, he crossed the distance between them and pulled the boy into his arms, shuddering at the cold of his touch. He held on for a moment before breaking away, his heart sinking as his thoughts cleared of the shock of the moment.

"I'm still dead, Harry," Charlie clarified with a sad smile. "I'm here, but not really here. No magic can change that."

Harry swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, the lack of emotion in the words hurting and angering him equally.

"Why did you do it, Charlie? Why did you have to get in the way of the curse?"

Charlie shook his head and gave him a lopsided grin.

"You mean the same way you did for me when I was a baby?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at him.

"That was different."

"No, it wasn't," Charlie countered. "You took a killing curse for me and I took one for you. It just ended up being more permanent when I did it." He let out a sigh before continuing. "We are brothers, Harry. I couldn't watch you die in front of me. That may make me a coward but I wouldn't change it. People need you more than they will ever need me and you proved me right. Are you not planning on killing Voldemort?"

"Don't say that," Harry almost pleaded. "I'm doing it because of what he did to you."

Charlie scoffed.

"You can keep telling yourself that but we know it's more. You want him dead for what he did to you too. Everything bad that has happened to us all started with him. I get it, Harry. If I had ever been capable, I would want to kill him too."

Harry deflated, unwilling to argue with his brother on the matter.

"Out of everything that ever happened to me, watching you die was the worst," he whispered. "Maybe a part of me wants him dead for what he did to me. It's what he did to you that has made want it all the more."

Charlie offered him another smile as he took one of Harry's hands in his own, the cold exuding from the boy seeping into his skin.

"You don't have to do this," he offered sincerely. "You can walk away as you planned to. I'd never hold it against you for choosing to live. It's what I would do."

"Really?" Harry questioned sceptically.

Charlie snorted as he shook his head.

"I'd do everything I could to kill him if our positions were switched. The difference between us is that I would die in the attempt," he shrugged. "I'm neither as gifted nor as brave as you, Harry. It was my time to go and I died making sure my brother would live. I can't really ask for more than that."

"I didn't want you to die," Harry replied.

"No, but it happened. It's shit and I wish I was there but I'm not."

Harry released a deep breath as he stared at the boy for a few moments.

"If you're here, there must be a way to bring you back?"

Charlie shook his head.

"I can already feel myself fading. Whatever you did to bring me here, it didn't really bring me completely. Maybe I'm a ghost of sorts or maybe a bit more. I don't feel like me. There's so much missing and I'm cold. I don't belong here anymore, Harry."

Harry swallowed as he nodded his understanding, but the boy in front of him was his brother in a way, he had no doubt of that.

"There must be something I can do," he tried.

Charlie again shook his head.

"There's only one thing I'd ask of you," he said warily.

Harry frowned as he gestured for him to continue.

"If you can, I want to speak to mum and dad one last time. I need them to understand."

Harry hesitated for only a moment before nodding.

"I'll take you to them," he promised.

"Thanks, Harry," Charlie replied. "For now, you have to let me go. I don't know what this magic is but it can't be good for you."

"I don't think it is. I can feel it draining me," he admitted.

"Idiot," Charlie chastised. "Let me go, we will see each other again soon when you take me home."

Harry felt his eyes well with tears as he slowly released his hold on the stone.

"I love you, Charlie."

The smile that adorned his brother as he faded was all he could have hoped for and he focused on it until not even a shadow of him remained. Pulling himself from his thoughts, he placed the stone on the desk and stared at it intently. Whatever magic was in that thing had proven to be as dangerous as it was incredible. Were he not so distracted by the time he had spent with his brother, he would have pondered it further.

Instead, he reached into the top draw of his desk and withdrew the letter that had accompanied the cloak gifted to him from the Potters and read the contents for the umpteenth time.

Dear Harry,

I don't know where to begin with this letter. I could apologise profusely for what happened to you or could thank you for what you did for Charlie but I'm afraid it would mean nothing to you, and rightly so.

We never got the chance to talk. I hoped you would seek us out so that we had the chance to explain or even for you to berate us for our actions. Just…anything. Am I a fool for hoping even more that you would maybe find even a little forgiveness for what we did? Perhaps, but call me a fool if you will. I never lost hope that my son would prove to be a better person than I, that my son would realise that no matter what had happened, he was loved always by his mother and father. I could make excuse after excuse for what happened but I will not insult you in that way. What we did was wrong and we put too much trust in another, something we should not have done. You should have been with us, we should have found a way. Even if it meant that we could never use or be around magic again, it would have been worth it.

Not a day has passed that I have not looked at a photo of you as a babe and wished to turn back time, to hold you in my arms if only once more and tell you that you were loved, that I couldn't be any prouder that you are my son.

I will never have the chance for the former but I am as proud as can be of you, that you ARE my son and you are the man you have become.

I still hope that one day you will come to us seeking answers, a hope that will never fade. Even if you cannot forgive our actions, even if it only gives you closure and you wish to see us no more, it would be more than I could ask of you.

I love you, Harry James Potter. That has never changed and I will always love you as any mother would her son.

Lily Potter

Harry sighed as he placed the letter back in his draw and sealed it with a locking charm. The words still meant little to him and he wasn't sure if he could ever hold those that birthed him in any affection. He felt for them for the loss of his brother but he couldn't be sure if what he felt was beyond that.

With a shake of his head, he fired off a patronus. The hour was late but there was no time like the present. In truth, he wasn't sure he'd be able to carry out his brother's wish if he were to sleep on it.

Only a minute passed before a large stag appeared in the room, the voice of James Potter addressing him.

"You're welcome to come now. The wards won't keep you out."

He rose from his seat and pocketed the stone and cloak before checking he had his wand, just in case. Knowing he could no longer avoid meeting with them, he disapparated, his thoughts focused on the Potter home he had spent his first childhood years.

(BREAK)

Lord Voldemort looked upon the trembling heap that was Severus Snape, his temper having finally reached boiling point having heard the news of the latest act carried out against. MacNair was needed and his loss would likely have repercussions on the outcome of his negotiations with giants. The man was an expert on the creatures, most creatures in fact. It had been he that had brought the Dementors on side during the last conflict, he that had secured the allegiance of the werewolves and would have been the one to add giants to his ranks.

The Dark Lord took a moment to compose himself before rolling Snape onto his back with his foot.

"You are certain Potter is behind this, Severus?"

Snape nodded as he wheezed.

"Shacklebolt is convinced and Dumbledore too."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the downed man. Severus was as dangerous as they came, a spy in his enemy ranks that could also be spying on him. Such an accomplished occlumens that even his own prowess in the mind arts was unable to discern anything from him. He had, however, proven himself useful over the years. It was he that had brought the prophecy to his attention and even helped him identify the potential children to which it pertained to. Yet, none of what he had carried out in the Dark Lord's name made him any more trustworthy. Severus merely served himself under the guise of serving others. Should he prove problematic, he would be eliminated. The Dark Lord would seldom take such a chance on a man if ever. Severus Snape however was a man of many talents and one he would use until such usefulness no longer benefited him.

"Your arm, Severus," Voldemort instructed coolly.

Snape hesitated for only the briefest of seconds before complying, wincing as a bony, pale digit was pressed against his mark.

"Potter has provoked me one too many times," the Dark Lord mused aloud. "We can no longer wait to liberate our brothers and sisters from their shackles."

What concerned him more than ever was the state of those loyal still detained in Azkaban. Potter's friend was there and it would only take a simple instruction for a significant blow to be landed against him. He had wished to wait a little longer, wished to consolidate his power so that those that once followed him would not waver if his position were weak. He could no longer afford such luxury. They had to be freed immediately.

(BREAK)

Standing in front of the home he spent his formative years stirred conflicting thoughts contrary to the image he had painted of James and Lily Potter since he had been a young boy. In his own mind, he had vilified those that had birthed him, had hated them for abandoning him when it was them he had needed the most and the bitterness had festered, leaving him with a very uncomplimentary impression of his natural mother and father.

He'd asked on many occasion why he had been shunned, why he'd had to endure the loneliness and outright abuse he had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys. No answer he had been given had been satisfactory. Sirius would adopt a countenance of guilt and Harry would later feel the same as he pondered his circumstances. It had been Sirius and Cassie that had rescued him and his grandfather that had opened his home, given him a family that had been taken from him. They had all saved him, had given their own blood so that he may live a semblance of life, none ever having asked anything in return. He had been young when that realisation had set in and he had not looked back since. He was a Black by circumstance, by blood and by choice and he had embraced it, lived by the ways of his family and he had been deemed worthy of such a place by those that mattered to him.

James and Lily Potter had become all but a distant memory, a presence in the back of his mind that he had not welcomed. Even now, the bitterness was prevalent and would likely always be so, though it hadn't always been this way.

He remembered vividly being bounced on the knee of a man who chuckled as Harry attempted to steel the glasses from upon his nose and the joyous laughter of a woman who blew raspberries across his tummy as she attempted to wrest him from his clothing, none of which changed when his baby brother had been born. The laughter, the bouncing on the knee and even kissing his scrapes after a fall were still there, even still when they had suddenly moved from this home into the smaller one at Godric's Hollow.

He had been too young to understand the necessity of the move, too young to understand the conflicting that was happening outside the family home. For Harry, everything changed overnight. One day he was a happy, content and certainly loved child, the next, he had woken in a home with strangers that held no such affection for him, his memories hazy and only vague images of the lady with red hair and the man with the glasses. Oh, how he had hoped they would rescue him from his misery, that they would tend his wounds and bounce him on a knee once more. However, it wasn't to be.

Similarly, he had woken one day to find himself in another new home, this one with people who were cautious of him but who had certainly treated him better than the last.

The man cared for him, that he could tell. The woman was an enigma, though she warmed to him as the months and years went by. The older man was something else entirely. He had been neither cold nor warm towards him, treating him with a wary respect and would come by occasionally to check on him. He would test him on the lessons Cassie and Sirius had been given him, nodding approvingly when Harry would answer correctly and even adding his own thoughts for Harry to ponder.

He too had eventually begun to hold him with something akin to affection.

What Harry had been given was the very thing that had been taken from him and he learnt to appreciate it all the more, even more so when the doubts he had that these people truly did care for hm were put to rest. And now, it was their blood that ran through his veins, their magic he had been taught and it had been them that helped mould him not the man he was becoming.

Shaking his head of his thoughts, he pushed open the large gate and the magic of the wards washed over him as he crossed the threshold into the property that he had once considered home.

He tapped on the front door as he reached it, slipping easily into a demeanour of respect that had bee drilled into him by his grandfather. He was not on good terms with the Potters, but they were close in status to the Blacks and that afforded them a level of respect many others would not be granted.

After only a moment of waiting, the door opened and he was met by Lily Potter, the same eyes he had seen reflected back at himself in the mirror full of apprehension and a little hope gazing at him.

"Come in, Harry," she offered, her voice small as she stepped aside to allow him entry.

He replied with a nod, ignoring the familiar smell of muggle cleaning products that permeated around him. It was oft that Lily would clean the home using muggle practices. She had been raised in such and the habits of her own mother had stuck with her throughout her years in the wizarding world. Harry remembered seeing her on her hands and knees sporting yellow rubber gloves as she scrubbed the hard wood floor. He remembered James laughing at what he found to be a trivial effort. One could achieve the same if not better results with a wave of a wand but Lily would not hear of it. She took pride in her cleanliness and James simply watched, bemused by the effort she put into such a seemingly small thing.

"I apologise for the lateness of the hour, it has been a strange evening," he offered, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen between them as she led him through the foyer of the house.

"Think nothing of it," Lily dismissed. "It has been a rather eventful night for us also."

The two entered the dining room before Harry could reply, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of his grandfather sat at the table with James Potter. He shot the former a probing look, wondering why he was here also.

"I had my own business to discuss with Lord Potter," Arcturus answered the unasked question. "I do however find myself curious as to why you have ventured here so late in the evening?"

Harry released a deep breath, not knowing where to even begin with what had him seeking out his other family.

"What can you tell me about the cloak?" he directed towards James.

The man frowned as he shrugged.

"Not very much," he admitted. "It's been in the family for at least the past six hundred or so years. My own grandfather studied it more in depth and traced it back as far as he could. I found a diary extract from one of my ancestors in our vault that mentioned it from about the same time as he did. Why? Is there something wrong with it?"

"Do you not find it strange that an invisibility cloak could last so long?"

James chuckled at the question.

"I asked my grandfather the exact same thing. He said it was a very special cloak, one that was likely from before we took the name Potter. He wouldn't speak of it any more than that. He said I was too young to understand and he died before I ever got the chance to bring it up again."

"Took the name Potter?" Arcturus broke in, his own curiosity getting the better of him.

James nodded, his countenance becoming nervous as he pondered his next words carefully.

"Yes. Our roots are with a much older family. The original Potters were merchants as far as I know, not poor but certainly not held in high esteem amongst families such as your own. My ancestor married the last surviving member of the family probably around a thousand years ago and her titles and such were absorbed into our own name. We have been the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter since," he explained.

Arcturus nodded appreciatively at the history lesson. He had not known that about the Potters. Truthfully, very few knew much about the family at all. They had always had an air of mystery about them but had risen quickly through wizarding Britain through business practice and their prowess with magic. He frowned as another question surfaced in his mind.

"What family was it yours absorbed?"

James swallowed deeply, reluctant to divulge anything further. One look at Harry had him wavering and he sighed.

"It can go no further than this room," he said firmly. "My grandfather did all he could to rid our family of any association to them and for good reason."

Arcturus nodded his agreement.

"We are descended from the Peverells," James revealed in little more than a whisper.

The name was vaguely familiar to Harry and if his grandfather's reaction was anything to go by, it was much more significant than he knew. Arcturus had scoffed, his usually calm composure cracking as his eyes bulged.

"Do not jest of such things," he hissed. "The Peverell's are nothing but a myth."

"Who are the Peverells?" Harry broke in, surprised by the vehemence with which his grandfather spoke.

Arcturus shook his head at the question but answered as best he could with what little he knew.

"The Peverells were a family said to have lived centuries ago. Their reputation is shrouded in stories of necromancy and acts against magic itself. According to some, an invasion carried out by wizards from the continent was ended by only three members of the family. Between them, they destroyed an entire army after most of the family had been wiped out. People believed they had made a deal with Death himself to aide them in avenging their loss. Death granted them his blessing and magic and they were victorious. After that, the family faded into obscurity and were never heard from again. Some believe the deal they made with Death cost them their souls and others that they themselves were Deaths chosen champions and they now rule the afterlife with him," he shrugged. "The Peverells were the family that the Blacks told their children of to scare them into compliance. No record has ever been found of the family truly existing, just whispers, rumours and foolish children's tales."

To say Harry was surprised by the story would be an understatement. The coldness of the stone in his pocket weighed heavily on him as though it was making its' presence known as truth was being spoken. He doubted much of the tale but was not foolish enough to dismiss it entirely. Almost all stories have a semblance of truth about them and it felt important that he found it.

"That's where you're wrong," James returned nervously. "The Peverell family did exist. Three of them are buried in Godric's Hollow with the rest of the Potters."

Arcturus released a deep breath and Harry frowned, still not understanding the significance of their existence.

"Just because they existed, doesn't mean the stories about them are true," Arcturus pointed out.

"I never said it did," James defended, "just that they did exist and my grandfather did all he could to erase them from our family history."

Arcturus could only nod, a frown marring his features.

"So, there is no trace of them other than the graves?"

James shook his head.

"It's information I'd rather keep unknown. Especially with what I found etched into the gravestones when I found them."

"What did you find?"

James conjured a piece of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink before scratching a rather strange rune into it and sliding it across the table. Arcturus picked it up, his eyes narrowing.

"Grindelwald's Mark," he growled.

"It made no sense to me either," James replied. "These people were around long before him. That's why any of this must not leave the room. I will not have my family associated with him."

"Is it possible that he is related to them also?" Harry interjected.

"No," James denied. "His family lineage has been traced back much further than them and there is no connection. How he ended up with this mark as his own is a mystery."

Lily snatched up the mark that Arcturus had deposited and grinned.

"This is the mark of the Deathly Hallows," she announced triumphantly.

Both James and Arcturus shared a look before snorting and laughing in tandem.

"Don't be a fool, girl," Arcturus chastised. "The Deathly Hallows are a bloody children's story."

Lily raised an eyebrow of disapproval towards the man and her husband.

"Pandora doesn't think so and Xenophilius is convinced they are real."

"Come on Lils, the Lovegood's aren't exactly all there. Don't get me wrong, I like them but you can't seriously believe half of what they say."

"I didn't say I did," Lily defended. "I was explaining that the mark is the same one that represents the Hallows."

"What are the Deathly Hallows?" Harry cut in irritably.

"A fool's errand," Arcturus replied. "Men have wasted their lives seeking out something that does not exist."

Lily shot him a scathing glare before she spoke, addressing Harry.

"The Deathly Hallows are said to have been created by Death and given to three brothers who managed to outwit him. I'm sorry," she added quietly, I never got around to reading you the story of the three brothers."

"What was it they got from him?"

Lily turned the symbol to face him, her finger gliding over the lines as she explained what each part represented.

"The elder wand. A wand so powerful that any who wields it is said to be unbeatable. The Resurrection Stone," she continued, tracing the circle that surrounded the line representing the former, "a stone capable bringing back anyone from the dead."

Harry felt his heart sink at the explanation of the second but Lily continued before he could find his voice.

"And a cloak of true invisibility. Any that hides within it will be undetectable, even to death himself."

"Nothing more than a children's tale," Arcturus reiterated firmly.

Harry swallowed deeply as he shook his head.

"The story might be exaggerated but the Hallows are real. I've got two of them."

Three pairs of eyes watched him warily as he pulled the cloak from his pocket, James's eyes lighting up in recognition.

"When I went to deal with MacNair, I was wearing this," he began. "I walked into his house as if the wards weren't there. For how old this is and how it can take you through wards, it has to be one of them."

"Or it could be a very spectacular cloak created by someone that hasn't been replicated," Arcturus countered.

Harry nodded.

"It could be," he agreed, "but I don't think this is anything like that," he continued as he removed the stone from his pocket and placed it on the table. "This is what brought me here tonight."

"What is it?" Lily asked.

Harry shrugged.

"This was the stone that formed part of the Gaunt family ring," he explained, his eyes never leaving those of his grandfather. "I destroyed the thing with fiendfyre and this survived."

"Impossible," Arcturus whispered.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself," Harry replied understandably. "It wasn't until I got the cloak that I noticed the magic between the two is the same. Whomever created the cloak created the stone."

"Are you saying that is the Resurrection Stone?" Lily gasped.

Harry nodded, his throat constricting slightly as his he fought back the tears beginning to form. He retrieved the stone from the table and looked upon it reverently.

"It was an accident," he insisted. "I had no idea what this was until it happened."

"What happened, Harry?" Arcturus urged worriedly.

"Charlie," he croaked. "I brought Charlie back."

Lily drew a staggered breath, placing her hand over her mouth in disbelief.

"W-where is he?" James asked.

"He went back," Harry answered, a slight smile pulling at his lips. "He came back in a way but wasn't really here, or so he said. He asked me to bring him to you so you could speak a final time."

"C-can you do that?"

Harry frowned and pondered on how it was he had brought him back the first time. He remembered turning the stone in his hand as he thought of his brother and him appearing shortly afterwards. He gave a nod of affirmation.

"He asked me to, so I will if you're ready?"

James gave Lily a comforting squeeze of the shoulder, indicating that he would support her with whatever she chose. She took a moment to compose herself before nodding resolutely and Harry set to work.

He turned the stone thrice in his palm as he thought of his brother, even whispering his name on the final rotation as the Potters and his grandfather looked on in a mixture of concern and anticipation.

"Hello, Mum," a nervous voiced sounded from behind where the Potters were stood.

Those within the room froze in shock at the appearance of the deceased boy before Lily launched herself towards her son, pulling him into her arms, seemingly unperturbed by the coldness emanating from him. She began scolding the boy as she squeezed him with James walking towards the pair at a sedate pace as though in a trance of disbelief at what had just happened. Over the shoulder of the embrace of his mother, Charlie shot Harry a grateful nod and slight smile as his father reached them.

"I couldn't be any prouder of you, Harry," Arcturus said from beside him. "Despite your feelings towards them, you've given them the closure they needed. You're a good man and they're getting more than they deserve because of you."

"Maybe," Harry replied. "I may no longer see them as my parents but they're not bad people, not really. Naïve and trusting of the wrong people? Undoubtedly. But Charlie would not have turned out the way he had if not for them."

Arcturus offered his grandson a nod of approval.

"So, you forgive them?"

Harry shook his head.

"Never," he sighed. "They're not bad people but they gave up any right to me being their son the day I was given away. Call me a child if you will but it will always be there to some degree, the bitterness and resentment. I can't just switch it off as though nothing happened. I am a Black, raised by Blacks. Nothing will ever change that."

He felt the aged man's hand grasp his shoulder and squeeze it appreciatively.

"You are a Black, Harry, and you'll prove to be amongst the best of us. I cannot give you any higher praise than that."

Harry felt himself swell with pride. It was not often one would be complimented so by his grandfather, but he felt every word and it only steeled his resolve to be the best that he could be for himself and the man that stood beside him that had spent years teaching him everything he could.

Himself and Arcturus looked on as the Potters conversed amongst themselves, both content to allow them their privacy. Harry had his moment and he would allow James and Lily the same. It was several moments later that Charlie beckoned him to join them and he did so somewhat reluctantly, not wanting to intrude on the emotional reunion.

"How're you feeling?" the younger boy asked him as he approached.

"I can go longer," Harry answered, aware of the drain on his magic that was keeping his brother here.

"I can't," Charlie admitted tiredly. "Whatever this is, is wrong. I don't belong here anymore. Something is trying to pull me back."

Harry could feel it too, the pull on his magic strengthening, fighting against him and his efforts.

"I know," Harry whispered. "It's getting colder."

Charlie offered him a sad smile as he pulled him slightly away from James and Lily.

"Before I go, I need you to do something for me. Two things really."

Harry nodded and offered his brother a grin.

"You're only saying that because you know I can't say no."

Charlie shook his head.

"You can say no. I wouldn't force you."

"What do you need, Charlie?" Harry replied with a faux-frustrated sigh.

"Keep an eye on them," Charlie answered with a nod towards his parents, his expression as serious as Harry had ever seen it. "I'm not expecting you to be a happy family or anything. I'd just feel better if you were looking out for them. I love them, Harry. Just, check on them occasionally."

Harry nodded, unable to deny his brother a final request and Charlie gave him a relieved smile in return as he stepped closer.

"Just remember, they've lost two sons now. No matter what they have done, they don't deserve that," he whispered as he put his arms around his older brother.

Harry shivered as he returned the gesture, nodding his understanding.

"You said there were two things," he reminded him.

"There was," Charlie confirmed, leading him towards James and Lily. He looked upon the three of them for a moment before releasing a deep breath, his eyes settling on his sibling. "I don't want you to bring me back again."

He silenced the following protests with a wave of his hands, choking on his words as he spoke once more.

"This is where we say our goodbyes," he said emotionally. "If you keep bringing me back, how will any of you move on."

"What if we don't want to?" Lily bit back.

Charlie smiled at his mother, his eyes full of tears and admiration for the woman.

"I'm dead, mum. Me being here like this won't do any of us any good."

Any argument Lily had died on her tongue as she tried to counter the boy. There was little she could say or do to justify her thoughts, only that she was a mother who loved and missed her son terribly.

"He's right," James broke in sadly. "It's not fair on Charlie or any of us."

Charlie gave the man a grateful nod.

"I'll miss you, all of you," he clarified, "but it is time for me to go. If where I am now is kinder than here, we will all be together again one day."

Harry could only stare at his brother through the tears that had formed and broken free, his grip firm around the stone.

"Let me go, Harry," Charlie urged.

Harry swallowed and nodded reluctantly, his grip loosening. The image of his brother began to fade and a look of relief formed on his pale face.

"Oh, and Harry?" Charlie called as he became near invisible. "I love you too, brother. You let me go last time before I had the chance to say it."

Harry gave a watery chuckle as Charlie vanished and he stood, staring at the spot the boy had spent his final moments. He knew not how long he remained there but it wasn't until a tentative tap on his shoulder pulled him from his reverie that he became aware of those around him once more. He turned and found him self face to face with a teary-eyed James Potter, his arms wrapped around his wife.

"Thank you, Harry. There's nothing that I could ever give you that could show how much we appreciate what you did," he said quietly, offering a trembling hand.

Harry only hesitated a moment before taking it in his own and shaking it firmly.

"It was the right thing to do, for you and for Charlie."

James nodded gratefully as Lily pulled herself from her husband and paused a second before hugging him tightly. Her brazenness caught him off guard and James moved to help him, his eyes wide with worry at how he would react. Harry stopped him with a subtle shake of his head and put an arm around the woman, rubbing her back awkwardly.

After what seemed an eternity, she relinquished her hold and extracted herself, an apologetic smile adorning her lips.

"Thank you," she whispered timidly before placing a kiss on his cheek and joining her husband once more.

Harry found himself in a state of shock having been unprepared for the embrace and kiss.

"It's late, I should go," he managed to say, wanting nothing more than to escape the awkwardness of the situation.

He turned away from the Potters and pocketed the cloak and stone before heading towards the door.

"Will we see or hear from you again?" Lily called, pausing him in his steps.

His first instinct was to deny her, to say that it would be unlikely. The words of his brother, however, sounded in his mind, reminding him of his promise.

"It would be impolite for me to not respond to the letter you sent," he replied before taking his leave, his grandfather following him from the house.

"Are you okay?" Arcturus asked as they moved towards the gates.

"Fine," Harry answered quicker than intended. "I just want this all over with."

Arcturus nodded his understanding.

"As do I," he responded, his mind wandering to all that was left to achieve.

There were still Horcruxes out there, of that he was certain, though he had no idea where to look next. The others had come to him in the most fortunate of circumstances, circumstances he doubted would be replicated again. Those, however, were the least of his problems and could be dealt with after Tom was dead if necessary. What concerned him now was the impending Wizengamot meeting and what it was he would do after. The time to hand over his power was drawing ever closer and he could feel it in his old bones.

He looked to his right where Harry walked beside him, his heart filling with warmth.

There was none better to leave his legacy to and he no longer had any excuse to not pass it on.

"Soon," he whispered internally.

(BREAK)

Where time had once been his burden, it was no longer so. So far had he sunk into his new life, that time itself no longer registered. Were he to ponder it for but a moment, he would realise that still, he had not been here close to as long as he felt. The only indication that proved this notion was the meagre amount of chocolate that still remained, his need and dependence on the trivial confection having grown considerably throughout his time here At first, when he had been distracted by each passing moment, it had not been such a necessity. However, the longer he spent within these walls, the need for it grew and his hunger for it had to be sated lest he were to begin losing his mind. The chocolate though, was finite and he had steadily consumed all but a few squares. What would happen to him after it was gone, he did not know. What he did know was that his work was one person shy of being complete and the one he looked forward to least.

Somehow, he had managed to extract anything useful from the others, his fraying temper having gotten the better of him on a few occasions. There were those that would no longer be fit to serve in any capacity, their minds and bodies irreparably damaged by his efforts and others that could serve but not satisfy their own proclivities. All in all, he deemed his work successful, untidy in many cases but not without its jubilance as he punished those that deserved it. Arcturus would likely be unhappy to some degree but he found he did not care. It was not Arcturus Black that had to endure the memories of the acts these people had carried out in the name of a mad man or to simply cater to their own disturbing pleasures. Perhaps he would feel different towards his own actions when he sobered from the haze that had descended over him, perhaps not. That was something to worry about when he left, and soon he would leave. After his final task, he would be gone. It was no longer safe for him to continue residing here.

He sat in his bed and blew warm air into his frozen hands before standing, the action little more than habit. Even his breath so close felt icy to the touch.

Pocketing his belongings and reverting the cell to what it was when he had arrived, he bid it an overdue farewell and headed towards the only cell he had yet to visit. He had passed it on a few occasions, the occupant following his movements with curious eyes. Purposely, he had left this one until last, not for any other reason than he suspected the memories within her mind would be the worst of all. Arcturus had warned him, his granddaughter was the most devoted, her once brilliant mind having been twisted into something he had long recognised when he had last set eyes upon her. The Black madness he had called it, a madness so ingrained that when it set in, there was no escaping its grasp.

He paused as he reached the cell, the woman already staring at him expectantly and did not flinch as the door screeched open. Her form was skeletal, her long, thick mane of hair streaked liberally with grey and her violet eyes almost black. She grinned maniacally at him, her teeth rotten with several gaps where many had fallen out during her time and were it not for the gesture, he would have guessed that she was nothing but a decaying corpse. She had once been beautiful, of that he had no doubt, graced with the same ethereal beauty that all Black females seemed to be blessed with. Now, she sat a mere shadow of her former self, the years in this hell having taken their toll on her appearance.

"I suppose it is my turn," the woman croaked, her smile widening, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

Leo simply nodded.

"I do find myself wondering, why you are here. Why have you willingly come to Azkaban to speak to us Death Eaters? I've watched you go from cell to cell to extract all the information you can. The only things that make sense is that you are a journalist. Doubtful. You are here for another reason."

Leo narrowed his eyes at the woman, her clarity surprising him. No other had been so articulate with their words, their coherence scrambled by their time imprisoned in such a place.

"No, that isn't it," she continued. "That only leaves one other possibility. The Dark Lord has returned as he always said he would." The smile she wore turned feral, her eyes alight at the realisation before she cackled gleefully. "Oh, my poor boy. You have no idea of the enemy you have made. The only question that remains is just who you are here on behalf of? The Ministry? Dumbledore?" she spat.

Leo chuckled darkly causing the woman to frown.

"It is your master that has no idea of the enemy he has made. I'm not here for the Ministry or for Dumbledore but someone else, someone you know very well."

"I know many fools but none so foolish to stand against the Dark Lord," Bellatrix hissed.

Leo leaned back against the cell door, his arms folded across his chest and he smirked, revelling in irritating the woman.

"Well, let us not stand on ceremony. Who is it that has sent you?"

Leo pushed himself away from the door and approached her, kneeling so he could look into her eyes.

"I was sent here by your grandfather, Arcturus Orion Black," he revealed.

"LIES!" Bellatrix screeched, launching herself at the boy, her shackles around her wrists the only thing preventing her attack.

Leo took a step back and shook his head.

"Your master provoked them and he will pay the price. You yourself should know that the vengeance of the Blacks is something to behold."

"My grandfather would not," Bellatrix denied frantically, talking more to herself. "He wouldn't, wouldn't, WOULDN'T."

Taken aback, Leo had to stop her from smashing the back of her skull against the stone wall. She fought him for a moment before collapsing forward, her breathing heavy from the exertion.

"He promised he would not interfere, he promised he would not involve himself in the war. He said he would not fight me."

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she shook her head and then she laughed. It was not a laugh of humour but one of despair.

"WHY?" she shouted. "WHY WOULD HE FIGHT AGAINST MY MASTER?"

Leo took pity on her as he sat a short distance away.

"He never intended to. Your master attempted to kill his heir after he killed his brother."

"His heir?" Bellatrix questioned confusedly. "Draco is his heir. Sirius was disinherited and Regulus is long dead. Why would the Dark Lord come for Draco?"

Leo snorted.

"The Malfoy brat is not the Black heir. That little shit was cast out along with his mother. A good thing too. The boy is a pompous little prick just like his father."

Bellatrix giggled at his summary of the Malfoy patriarch.

"Lucius is a moron. Cissy allowing her son to turn into him is surprising. If he didn't have his money, he would be nothing. The Dark Lord would never have wasted his time on him."

"Well, he is nothing now," Leo replied with a satisfied grin.

Bellatrix's eyes widened.

"Oh, do tell. It has been some time since I heard a good story."

She crossed her legs, her eyes full of anticipation at the idea of hearing a tale.

"There's not much to say. He tried to cross your family and lost every penny he owned in a duel," he answered with a shrug.

"So, his money belongs to the Blacks?" Bellatrix questioned.

Leo shook his head.

"It belongs to me. I beat him in the duel and that was my prize."

Bellatrix giggled again before sobering quickly.

"You said it was the Blacks he had wronged. Why was it you that duelled him?"

"Lucius named it as part of his terms. No member of the Black family could fight him. If he won, Draco would become the heir of Black and if he lost, his fortune would go to the victor. Me," he explained.

Bellatrix bit her lip as she scrutinised the boy in front of her, for that's what he was. He could not long have entered manhood judging by the boyish, youthful features he possessed.

"For such a risk, my grandfather must trust you," she sighed. "Are you his heir? Who even are you?"

Leo snorted.

"It doesn't matter who I am, but no, I am not his heir. His heir is my best friend, the closest thing I have to a brother and your Aunt Cassie a mother."

"Cassie?" Bellatrix asked almost hopefully. "I thought her dead."

Leo shook his head.

"Aye, she is very much alive and has been good to me since I was a boy. She cared for me, gave me a home whilst I wasn't at school and even took me on as her apprentice."

Bellatrix was paying attention to him, evidently enjoying discussing her family.

"A formidable witch. I always admired Aunt Cassie," she whispered. "What of the rest of my family, my mother, father?"

"All dead," Leo answered apologetically. "The only Blacks remaining are your grandfather, Cassie, Sirius and Harry."

"Oh, I thought more would have made it," she said sadly.

"I didn't know your parents but I'm sorry for your loss. All the Blacks I know and have met are good people underneath all the terrifying stuff."

Bellatrix nodded almost gratefully at his words.

"Who is Harry. Sirius' son?"

Leo nodded.

"Originally, he was his godson, born to the Potters. It was Harry and his brother your master attacked the night he fell. He failed and they both lived until he returned and killed Charlie."

"A Potter as the Black heir?"

"Harry is a Black. He has been raised by them since he was a baby and would not take kindly to being called a Potter."

"Harry Potter," Bellatrix whispered almost familiarly. "Green eyes with a purple wand," she muttered.

"Sorry?" Leo asked.

Bellatrix shook her head.

"Nothing, just a foolish dream I had once. A boy named Harry saved me from a terrible fate. His eyes were bright green and his wand was purple."

Leo frowned, reminding himself he was dealing with a woman of questionable sanity.

"Well, I suppose we should get on with it. You have a job to do after all, though, don't expect me to give up my secrets so easily. My mind may not be what it once was but I too was trained by Aunt Cassie."

It was Leo's turn to be surprised at how candid the woman was being.

"Aye, no point delaying it. I don't want to be in here any longer."

"Try thirteen years," Bellatrix replied, the mental shields she had managed to salvage over the years slamming into place as the boy slipped into her mind with apparent ease.

The resistance he faced was much stronger than any other in the prison, still much weaker than it would have once been but impressive, nonetheless. She wrestled with him and for a while a stalemate between the two ensued until Leo managed to begin viewing snippets of events gone by; a young Bellatrix walking the halls of Hogwarts, a meeting with a group of cloaked figures, a wedding ceremony she was taking pert in reluctantly and of her receiving the mark. That memory was one filled with pride. It was then he realised she was using misdirection to show him only what she was willing to give up, so he doubled his efforts and felt her control begin to buckle. She was good, likely once as good as Cassie but thirteen years in this environment had all but worn her ability in the mind arts and she wavered again, this time, unable to take back any control.

The memories now came freely and her efforts to prevent his viewing of them were for naught. He witnessed acts of depravity carried out by the woman and her cohorts, felt the visceral thrill she experienced torturing helpless souls that pleaded for their lives, those unable to fight back cowering, offering all they to be spared. Those that could fight back did so and fell at the overwhelming numbers they faced, numbers that very few could hope to survive against. It was cowardice in its purest form. Many attacking one or few in the dead of night where help would not come so quickly and he felt his anger build. Neither men, women nor children were off limits to these monsters and thoughts of what happened to his own parents surfaced.

Knowing his state of fury was not conducive to effective practice, he took a moment to compose himself before diving back in, his focus on memories pertaining to the Dark Lord.

For Bellatrix, these were many. Often, she would be tasked with leading groups in attacks, be subject to praise and flattery for a job well done and even share private meals with the man himself. Numerous as they were, it took considerable time and effort to sort through which were important and what could be discarded out of hand. For the most part, the subject of discussion between the two was of tasks carried out and future tasks that he could no longer prevent but one memory was one he felt to be of particular importance.

He watched as Bellatrix was summoned by a masked man and led to where the Dark Lord was sat at a desk stroking a large snake of the likes he had never seen, conversing with it as though it were a much-loved friend. He had witnessed Harry do the same over the years with his own familiar but something about this snake was not right nor the discourse taking place between the two. Not only did it appear different to any other snake he had seen but its eyes would flash between a reptilian yellow and the very same red of its master and the conversation shared in parseltongue evidently much more in depth than he had ever seen.

When the man became aware of Bellatrix's presence, he addressed the snake a final time before it slithered away, eying the woman with suspicion.

"She is a wonderful creature," Bellatrix panted as her chosen approached.

The Dark Lord smiled as he placed a finger under her chin causing her to shudder.

"My dear, Bella. She is much, much more than a simple creature. She is perhaps my most prized and trusted friend, not including yourself of course. Your loyalty is unwavering and she is just as loyal if not more. She is me and I her after all."

Leo frowned internally at the words, immediately alarmed by both the snake and the man's reverence of it. If such a thing held such importance to the man, it was something that Arcturus would want to know of.

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed at Voldemort's declaration and the man chuckled.

"I digress," he near hissed as he cupped her cheek almost affectionately, placating her somewhat. "I asked you here for a reason, a task I would trust no other with."

"Whatever my Lord wishes," Bellatrix breathed in reply.

Leo watched as the man approached a desk and hooked a seemingly inane cup onto his finger by one of the two handles. He stared at it for a moment, almost considering his actions before he returned to the woman staring at him with such devotion. He smiled before handing her the cup, her body trembling as his hand grazed the skin of her own.

"This is something irreplaceable, so important to me that there is only one that I would trust with its care. That person is you, Bella. I need you to protect this as though it were mine own body."

"What is it?" Bellatrix questioned, the disappointment and disgust of being tasked with something so seemingly beneath her clear.

"What it is matters not. What maters is that it is kept safe above anything else you possess. I hope the day it is needed never comes. However, shall that day fall upon us, you will know what to do."

The memory faded and Leo switched his focus to any other that contained the cup or snake. Those of the latter showed nothing new and the serpent, when present, usually looked upon the gatherings of her master's followers with a keen eye and occasionally offering a hiss of warning or disapproval. The cup, however, appeared in only one other memory depicting a woman in dark robes and concealed face entering Gringotts. Leo watched as Bellatrix entered the bank, her gaze shifting frantically to ensure she had not been followed or unknowingly walked into a trap.

"I wish to enter my family vault," she hissed towards a passing teller.

The goblin frowned at her for a moment before nodding his consent.

"Very well, Mrs LeStrange. Please, follow me."

Leo watched as the woman entered the infamous cart and was violently propelled through the twist and turns of the track and into what could only be the darkest depths of the bank. Exiting, she shot another suspicious glance around before approaching a large, iron door with a crest of a crow sat atop a golden symbol. Approaching the door, she bit her finger to draw blood and wiped it across the lock in the centre. A few seconds past before the clinking of locks coming undone could be heard and Bellatrix took a step back as the door creaked open.

When it was fully ajar, she shot the goblin that had accompanied her a scathing glare before entering, withdrawing the cup from within her robes before levitating on to the uppermost shelf and nodding satisfyingly.

"I wish to be notified should any other enter the vault other than myself," she demanded of the creature who bowed to her request.

"It shall be done."

Again, the memory began to fade but before Leo could peruse the woman's mind any further, he was pulled from it as a loud explosion sounded somewhere in the distance, the cell he was rumbling from the shockwave only seconds later.

"What the fuck was that?" he questioned aloud, gripping his wand tightly.

Bellatrix cackled gleefully through the congealing blood smeared around her face where her nose had apparently bled from her efforts to keep him from her thoughts.

"The Dark Lord has come for me," she squealed.

The inhabitants of the adjoining cells remained unmoved by what was occurring on the upper levels of the prison, even as another explosion sounded, this one closer. Leo took comfort in their lack of reaction, the work he'd done on them leaving them in a stupor of unawareness.

"He's going to kill you," Bellatrix whispered excitedly, interrupting his thoughts.

"Aye, he might if he had the chance," Leo replied with a smirk. "Like I said, I have no plans of sticking around and as I don't have time to finish my work here, you'll be coming with me, lassie."

Bellatrix screamed in fury before Leo felled her with a stunning spell and removed the chains anchoring her to the wall. He bound her with hastily conjured ropes and held on to her tightly, waiting for the moment he would be able to apparate out of the prison. With explosions such as the ones he had felt, the wards around the island would inevitably fall. The wards however, stayed firmly in place as another explosion, even closer, rocked the prison and sent him into the wall, winding him painfully.

Groaning, he pulled himself to his feet and wiped away the blood from a wound that had opened on his head. Frantic voices had him scrambling to erect defences against the incoming Death Eaters who had managed to navigate their way to the isolated cells, two falling to his spell work for their intrusion. Hastily, he swept his wand upwards, folding half of the floor against the door of the cell in a bid to buy some more time to think.

The situation he found himself in was bad and he needed to escape, not only to give Arcturus the information he had gathered but to see Katie again. He refused to die here without either of those. Thinking quickly and seeing it as the only way out, he pulled Bellatrix tightly against him as he directed the other half of the floor to form on the opposite side of the cell, effectively sandwiching them between the two parts. The second, however, he left with a small gap in the middle, just big enough to aim his wand through from his position.

Not knowing what was on the other side of the wall in which Bellatrix had been chained to, he fired a gouging charm, removing a large chunk of the stone. He fired the same charm again and again as he felt spells impacting against the concrete protecting his back, muffled voices screaming curses as they attempted to breach his defences. With renewed vigour and desperation, he continued his onslaught, his eyes widening as a steady stream of water began to trickle from the wall he was attacking.

"Shit," he cursed, the logic of such a thing having been lost on him. Being so far under the prison could only mean the cells on the lower levels were underwater. "Looks like we are going for a swim, lass."

He fired a blasting curse this time as something sharp stabbed into his back, the prison wall in front of him finally giving way to a cascade of icy, North Sea water. With a hiss of pain and a wave of his wand, a bubble formed around the head of Bellatrix and his own before he forced the pair of them through the jagged opening he had created as lights of varying colour lit up the area they had absconded from.

Wanting to put as much distance between himself and those that had attacked, he kicked his legs with all the energy he could muster, his prison-induced weakness hindering him, making the effort all the more arduous. Thankfully, the attackers did not seem keen on following his path and with no help from the burden in his arms, he managed to get a reasonable distance away from the island, far enough that he felt the wards wash over him as he left their reach.

Sighing in relief, he tightened his grip around the woman and apparated to one of the only places in wizarding Britain he knew. He wanted nothing more than to go to Katie or directly to the Blacks. He however, had not been made privy to the secrets of their homes here. The former, he doubted would be pleased to see him having escaped Azkaban with one of Britain's most notorious prisoners in tow. Thinking quickly, he apparated them to Hogsmeade and it took considerable effort to send a patronus to the only people he could trust to retrieve him.

He was tired, magically, mentally and physically, his time within the walls of the forsaken island having taken its toll on him more than he thought possible. With a final push, he managed to drag himself and Bellatrix into a nearby alley where he could only wait, fighting the need to sleep and breathing heavily to be rescued from his predicament.

(BREAK)

The Dark Lord stepped over a pile of debris, the results of a defence he had not expected to find at the prison. The explosions were not of his doing nor of his followers. They had begun to detonate the moment his people began approaching the prison, sporadic eruptions falling several of his people, much to his anger and dismay. They had stilled the efforts to enter the building, only his threats of much worse to follow causing his Death Eaters to continue with diligence, fearing him above whatever reprisals they may face within the walls.

He himself was content with looking on knowing that any resistance could be dealt with by the more capable of his entourage. The Dementors had stepped aside as expected but the explosions continued to sound the further in his followers progressed. For a brief period, he feared that they had all been killed when silence finally fell. He waited with bated breath for several minutes before Lucius emerged from the haze and approached, falling to his knees in deference.

"My L-lord, we have found them," he managed to stutter. "The others are bringing them as we speak."

"Very good," Voldemort hissed.

Again, he found himself waiting for several minutes before those that remained of whom accompanied him returned, levitating several people between them. He frowned at their sodden appearance, his head tilting questioningly as he approached.

"What is the meaning of this?" he questioned, his voice little more than a whisper.

"We were hindered, My Lord. One of the cells was blocked and when we manged to break through, the entire lower level was flooded," a masked man explained.

Many that had come from the depths of the prison were struggling for breath, some half-drowned. A slight smile however formed on his face as he took in the appearance of his most loyal they had come to liberate.

"I find myself pleased to see you, Rudolphus. You will be welcomed back into the fold and rewarded for your loyalty, all of you," he added, his stare flitting between those that had spent well over a decade shackled.

He frowned when he received no response from the man and crouched to look into his eyes. Rudolphus simply gurgled, his once hard eyes bereft clarity.

"They are all the same, My Lord," the masked man spoke once more. "None responsive and most having been cursed in some way."

Voldemort growled as he stood tall, searching for the one follower he would not be without.

"Where is Bellatrix?" he hissed.

"Gone, My Lord," the man answered nervously. "It was her cell where the flood came from."

The Dark Lord gritted his teeth, seething at the turn of events. Not only had his most loyal follower been taken, the others had been left in a pitiful state and would likely never recover.

"Whelan," he spat. "Was Whelan there?"

The masked man swallowed deeply as he shook his head.

"Gone too, My Lord. He killed two of our own before escaping."

Voldemort's anger was beyond reason as he levelled his wand at the man and reduced him to a pile of ash with a flame darker than the night sky above. So quick did it happen, there had been no time to scream.

"So, our efforts were for nothing," he hissed. "We have nothing to show?"

The followers around him murmured amongst themselves, none willing to submit themselves to the fury of their lord.

"How many did we lose?" he questioned Lucius.

The blonde looked around, grimacing at how few of them remained of those that had been chosen.

"Twenty-three, My Lord," he replied quietly.

"Twenty-three," Voldemort echoed angrily. "All of your efforts will be directed into finding Bellatrix. Do not disappoint me."

"My Lord, what of those?" Lucius asked, pointing to the gathering of rescued Death Eaters.

"Bring them. Perhaps something may be salvaged from this evening after all."

With little more than a slight turn, Lord Voldemort left the island of Azkaban, his thoughts turning to his recent failures. Since his return, none of his efforts had yielded a favourable outcome. Potter had escaped and he had been injured and now, those he had once relied on were no more. Bellatrix was gone and would unlikely be returned to him and for the first time in his life, he felt the grasp of defeat tightening around him.

He shook his head of those thoughts.

There was none that could stand against him. Potter had been fortunate thus far but fortune was finite. His luck would run out soon, and when it did, the Dark Lord would be waiting for him, ready to put an end to his miserable experience.

For now, however, he had to find a way to rebuild his ranks, replace those that were no longer viable and turn his focus towards the bigger picture. Potter was but one boy after all. He had an entire country to bring under his heel.

(BREAK)

Harry was preparing to retire for the night, his experiences of the evening leaving him depleted physically and emotionally. Upon returning home, he had spent time in the kitchen with Arcturus and Sirius, filling his father in on what had transpired. He had been in utter disbelief at their claims, demanding answers that neither could truly give that could explain the phenomena they had witnessed.

It was not until the sun was close to rising that they decided sleep was needed, only for the trio to be halted as a large patronus formed in the room, setting them on edge.

"Hogsmeade," the laboured voice of Leo sounded, urging them into action.

Even before the apparition had vanished, the three Blacks were in the village with wands drawn and scanning the area for threats. Finding none, they relaxed somewhat, ready to defend themselves if the need arose.

"Homenum, Revelio," Arcturus muttered.

His grey eyes searched the area before he stiffened and pointed towards two shapes that had been revealed to him, huddled in an alley a short distance away.

"Over there," he exclaimed, pointing towards the darkened, narrow passage.

Harry charged ahead, the tip of his wand igniting on his way. What he found within the alley not only confused him but worried him equally. Leo was seated, his back to the wall with a woman cradled in his arms bound and seemingly stunned, both soaked through.

"Leo?" he called as he reached the duo.

Through barely opened eyes, Leo gazed towards him hopefully, releasing a deep breath before coughing violently.

"He came before I could finish," he wheezed. "We have a problem."

"Bellatrix," Sirius growled as he arrived, his wand pointed towards his cousin.

"Not now," Arcturus interjected, eying his granddaughter cautiously. "We need to get them both out of here."

Harry nodded and proceeded to relieve Leo of the woman. He handed her to his father who looked upon the woman with utter contempt as Arcturus attempted to pull Leo to his feet. The boy hissed in pain, the wall he had been pressed against covered in blood from a deep wound in his back.

"You'll be alright," the older man assured him as Harry helped to steady him, his grandfather unable to hold the weight of his friend alone.

Taking in his appearance, Leo looked terrible and not because he was wet and wounded. He was pale, shaking and had lost considerable a lot of weight during his incarceration. It would take some time for him to recover.

"Gringotts," he moaned. "He has one in Gringotts."

"Has what?" Arcturus questioned.

"Whatever it is you're looking for. The LeStrange vault."

Arcturus shook his head irritably, releasing a deep breath at the implications. Instead of mentioning it, he helped Harry transport the boy and his granddaughter back to Grimmauld Place. She would be checked over and held for now and he, returned to Cassie so that she could personally see to him. She would have it no other way.

The woman was elated to see the boy, though she shot him a scathing glare for his condition before taking him from the room, not showing any awareness to the woman that had been brought along with him.

"Take her to the basement, dry her off and make her as comfortable as possible," he instructed Sirius, waving off any protest the man may make.

Tiredly, he sunk into a chair at the table.

"What a night," Harry sighed.

Arcturus snorted humourlessly.

"I fear it will only get worse," he replied. "Not unless you have any idea of how we can break into Gringotts and one of the more protected vaults in the bank?"

Harry could only shake his head. Suh a thing did not bare thinking about.

Again, I wanted tot hank you all for the support, the reading and reviews I receive when I post. Just a reminder, my social media details can all be found on my profile page that has been updated quite recently. Feel free to message me with any questions etc and I shall get back to you.

Love to you all,

TBR