"Shall we begin?"

On an isolated beach in the far north of Scotland, a loud impact resonated in the silence of the early morning; the sound of a boot meeting flesh. Normally this would cause many a nesting bird to squawk in fright from their cliffside homes, except any wildlife in the area had long since fled the vicinity. After all, the beach was in utter ruins.

The sound came again, louder, and yet again, drowned out ever so slightly by the waves crashing in the distance and the soft crackling of a fire nearby.

"Enervate," the same voice entoned, resigned.

Antonin Dolohov, mass murderer and Death Eater fanatic, awoke with a pained groan. His head throbbed something fierce, as though he were hit repeatedly whilst unconscious, and for a moment he wasn't sure where he was. Everything was fuzzy and disorienting. Seconds ticked by as his vision swam into focus, and when it did he'd wished he was able to return to that blissful darkness he'd awoken from.

For before him stood death. Only death wasn't supposed to wear glasses…

"Welcome back to the land of the living," droned the spectre in front of him. "Now don't get too comfortable. You won't be here long, I assure you, but probably longer than you'd like."

Dolohov tried to be steadfast, to sneer in the face of this would be avenger, but it sounded hollow in his own ears. After the fight he'd just been through, it was a challenge to form coherent words. "You don't scare me, Potter."

The man in front of him, Potter, seemed to smile at that, as he took off his spectacles and caringly wiped them with a cloth he'd pulled from his vest pocket. "Oh? Well, that's good. As an auror, I am a servant of the people. I've a reputation to maintain, after all."

A sharp scream tore from Dolohov's throat. He hadn't even seen the man pull his wand, but somehow Potter had cast a blood boiling curse at his arm. The pain was unbearable, the veins in his arm withering and the rest of his body soon felt as though it were on fire from the inside out.

"Besides," continued Potter, as though he wasn't torturing the man, "I'm not looking to scare you. See, I'm a practical man."

Potter placed his glasses back on casually, looking intently at every twitch in the screaming man's body, memorizing the moment.

"The amount of fear you deserve to feel, the same amount of terror my wife felt when you ambushed her and my son in our own home - being the coward that you are - that's not something you're capable of experiencing." Potter took a steadying breath. "No, it requires one to love something far beyond themselves; to love something more than life itself."

The spell ended abruptly, but the damage had been done irrevocably. Dolohov couldn't feel his right arm - his wand arm - below the shoulder. The rest of him felt as though he were still burning from within. After all, blood continues to flow, 'boiling' or otherwise. He knew he needed immediate medical attention if he didn't want to succumb to his injuries or fall into severe shock.

With one look in his captors steel-grey eyes, Dolohov knew he wasn't going to receive it.

"But that is something you value, isn't it? Your life - or what you think passes for one. Your wand arm? That's a big one, definitely. Your looks?"

A slash of his wand and Potter ripped two ugly gashes across the Death Eater's face, causing him to scream anew.

"Mm. A bit deeper than I'd anticipated, sorry. Adrenaline," the man shrugged by way of explanation.

Potter gestured absently to something behind the tied and bound Dolohov, still screaming from the deep cuts across his once handsome face, blood dripping down his front. The fire crackling in the background seemed to move as the air around Dolohov grew warmer. A thud was heard, then another, as something massive circled the fallen Death Eater to stand next to Potter.

"Your looks are another one, sure. But that's not enough is it? Someone as resourceful as you would still find a way to enjoy life, likely at the expense of others."

He didn't want to look, certain of what it was, yet curiosity got the better of him. Through a still flowing curtain of red, Dolohov recognized the grotesque creation before him. The same one used in the duel earlier that night; a duel that caused him, arguably the best of his peers, to tremble in awe at what the vengeful auror was capable of.

The colossus stared into his very soul, still alight by the dark flames he'd used against it. For a creature comprised of two trees transfigured together and animated by admittedly unparalleled prowess, it was surprisingly fire resistant. The purple flame spell he'd used on it only added to its menace in the long darkness of the beach. The fact that it was kept around after the duel caused knots to form in Dolohov's stomach.

"That is, at the end of the day, all that vermin like you value." Potter continued on, heedless of the gnawing terror infecting his captive. "Which means there is no greater thing I could do to ruin your life… than by simply ending it."

Fear.

It was a foreign concept to Dolohov. He hadn't felt it in years, since long before the start of the previous war, but he felt it now. There may have been apprehension and even timidity in the presence of his master. There was certainly frustration when he'd faced the likes of Dumbledore or Moody in the past, and only barely made it out alive. But fear as a whole? This was a first.

He wasn't a fan.

As with all things he didn't understand or disliked, the Death Eater raged against it with all the vile vitriol he possessed. Instincts of an experienced shit-talker kicked in, instinct bred to rile an opponent up, cloud their judgement, to stall for time. 'Time,' he thought desperately. 'I just need time. They'll be here any minute now, sure as the dawn.'

"Your wife was a good fight, I'll give you that." Dolohov almost smiled as he spoke whilst successfully holding back the tremor that wanted to come forth. He could do this. "Good fight, even better lay. I can almost see why you turned blood traitor for that harlot, Potter! Almost, that is."

He let out a cackle filled with malice and confidence he didn't remotely feel as he stared at the blank face of the man across from him. The colossus - still burning, still massive - stood not five paces from the bleeding out Death Eater, who worried internally that the auror would sick his creation on him any second now. When the order didn't come, and Potter's face remained neutral, Dolohov pressed on.

"Your son, on the other hand, I must admit was less impressive. He stood there, watching Uncle Ant have a go on mummy, crying the whole time like the daft bastard he is. Apple didn't fall far from the tree there, eh? I tell, I was half tempted to give him a go on my po-"

"My son didn't cry."

Dolohov blinked at being cut off mid-rant, and so casually. Potter stood there, his arms at his sides, clenched, but his voice was even and his breath steady.

"He- wha? You listening to me, boy? Your soggy afterthought wept his grey eyes silver by the time I-"

"His eyes are green."

The fire that failed to consume the colossus nonetheless crackled away, feasting on self repairing bark, splinters bursting in the silence of the night.

"Green; a pair of startling emeralds, just like his mother's. And he didn't cry. My son, seven at the time, he lunged at you with a knife while Lily fought to hold him back and keep you at bay. She managed it, too. She never was the strongest fighter in the Order. That honor likely went to myself or Alastor after big-guns Albus, of course, but she was certainly the brains behind a lot of our tricks. She used every one on you, got you wound up tighter than a first year in his first duel."

"How do yo-"

"You. The mighty, terrifying, Dolohov. 'Fastest wand on the circuit', they said. A duelling champion, turned mass murderer. 'A sadist,' I said, and my wife - a housewife at the time, mind you - almost sent you to the ringer. I bet that thought just ate at you. You felt the nager build as you were routed spell after spell, not expecting a muggleborn witch caught unawares to have put up a fight. I mean, how dare she? You, a proud pureblood."

The mans words were mocking but they hit Dolohov like a freight train, as though the auror could read his every thought. The Death Eater recalled the mission that had gone so wrong, the anger, the desperation as he looked to be on the cusp of failing his task. The desperation that led to a decision…

"And then you used it, didn't you? Your last, desperate gambit."

It was as though Potter had merged with him somehow. "Get out of my head," Dolohov ground out, something akin to tears forming in the corner of his eyes. Not tears of regret, but tears of frustration, fear, terror. The same emotions he'd felt that day.

Terror.

"You cast a spell you'd only heard whispered. Fiendflumen. Dark waters."

Flashes of a flood that spilled from the air around them came to Dolohov's mind, images of a instantly submerged kitchen and a woman - red haired and beautiful - fight against the pressure of the raging waters around her and her child.

"No," the Death Eater denied, fruitlessly.

"You summoned it, but couldn't control it. So you fled, like the coward you are."

Dolohov remembered the last thing he'd seen before portkeying away. He'd dropped an anti-apparition tangle on the wards prior to his attack, preventing a similar timely escape for his targets. The damned witch was losing ground to the waters, filled with unseen creatures of nightmares, clawing and grasping against her golden shield. It cracked and slowly shrunk on itself as her magic fought against something that didn't belong on this plane of existence.

He'd vanished with a satisfied smile on his face.

"But she fought on. Gryffindor, through and through. My son did as well, lending her his strength." Potter seemed to have grown closer during his story, now standing directly in front of Dolohov, boring into his eyes. "She made a last gambit of her own. An anchor charm, from her magic to his, forcing them to collide together to maintain a shield strong enough to keep death at bay. Strong enough… and small enough… for one."

James Charlus Potter, husband to Lily Potter nee Evans and father of Harry James Potter, knelt in front of his foe - his wife's murderer - with fire in his eyes.

"She gave her life for our son. And as the water tore at her, suffocated her, drowned her, she smiled at our boy. Told him she loved him, even as he screamed for her, unable to help. In a cruel way, his own magic worked against him to keep him safe. Lily was thorough."

Waves crashed louder on the beach, the tide slowly rising. James knew that Dawn was approaching, but only one of them would live to see it.

"Then the water rescinded," he condluded his recollection. "The spell ended, as though satisfied in its life claimed. I arrived mere moments after, a minute and a lifetime too late. I had lost the woman I loved and my son lost his mother. I buried my head in her pale, beautiful neck, and screamed my throat bloody. Then, only then, in the wreckage of our home, did my son cry."

Potter's voice had gone almost to a whisper at the end, before turning harder than stone as he finished.

"You know, that memory - my son's memory, our shared nightmare - I'll admit it's kept me going all these years. Drove me, like nothing else ever drove another man before. The results..," he gestured to the landscape around them, illuminated by the burning colossus and the starry sky. A large portion of the beach was torn up. Blackened sand, scorched pebbles. Deep scars in the earth, explosion holes, and even a boneyard plagued the once untouched landscape. "...speak for themselves."

"You know what really ended it for your side? Killing Dumbledore." James was ranting now, but he couldn't help himself. "Granted, he took your Dark Tosser with him, if he truly is gone. I don't buy into the rubbish of Longbottom's son having anything to do with the matter, but that's neither here nor there. Point is, you took away the one man - the one singularly powerful and respected entity - that valued your lot's lives. With him gone and the world in chaos… the kid gloves came off. The Order, the Aurors, hell, the common folk. We stopped playing nice - if only for a mere week or two before bureaucrats did what they do best - and we killed you. We killed you all up.

Because one thing your kind didn't take into account, the same mistake you're going to die for tonight, is that when you take someone we love, we ache. And that ache can only be filled with one thing: revenge. At all costs, at any costs. Unhealthy, perhaps even cycle feeding, I'll admit. After all, where does it end? Clearly, in your case, it ends here. With you. Dead."

Dolohov could hear his heart stop beating for a moment.

"There'll always be an avenger for the good in this world. I guarantee it."

"Get on with it then," Dolohov spat out, tired of the man's monologuing. Did he expect an apology, a plea for help? Tempted as he was to give one, the Death Eater knew it would do him no good here. "What're you waiting for!"

Potter remained unaffected by the outburst. "Your spell, it gave me an idea… of how best to kill you."

The massive colossus moved closer to the pair, looming over the bound man like a demon from hell, capable of squashing him with a single flick of its trunk sized fist.

"Not that," Potter said, once more reading his mind. "No, this was considerably more… poetic. After all, you killed my wife with one of the Four Fiends. I figure I should return the favor."

Dolohov felt sweat and ichor pour down his brow. One of the fiends… he couldn't think of a worse way to go, having only seen two of the archaic death spells in person, and terrified by their power.

Was this how he ended? He killed an upjumped mudblood and now he died alone, in unbelievable pain, on a beach in the middle of nowhere. Alone. That was the thought he oddly focused on. "It's a funny old life.."

"Not for you, it isn't. Not anymore."

Dolohov's eyes widened. He hadn't meant to say that aloud, but then again, what did it matter? Potter was going to kill him now. He'd used his ace up and no one had showed. He was truly alo-

Several things happened at once.

The wind stopped blowing, as though summoned elsewhere.

James Potter raised his wand, storm-grey eyes focused with all the rage he possessed. "Fiendno-"

"Avada Kedavra."

The sudden green light of the killing curse blitzed through the darkness right at the avenging auror…

...only to harmlessly impact the wooden colossus that moved to shield its creator with deceptive speed.

Then all hell broke loose.

Spellfire from three sides fell upon the ambushed Potter who quickly cast a sophisticated at the still bound and bleeding out Dolohov, all the while dodging multiple spells. If the assailants were a rescue party, he'd make their querie dead weight.

His colossus roared, a deep earthy sound that caused some level of fear in the attackers if their momentary pause was any indication. James almost smiled to himself in spite of the situation. Cowards, he could take care of, even if it was four on one.

He danced around the spellfire, returning it where he could with blood-freezers, bone breakers, exploding, imploding and dislodging curses. He wasn't fucking around.

His colossus neared the closest of the spellcasters, the wizard now illuminated by the walking inferno of wood. 'Death Eaters,' groused James internally as he set his eyes on the typically attired scum with mask and cloak, affirming his initial suspicion. 'Of course they came for him.'

The wizard reigned spell after spell on the towering tree, causing piles of bark and chunks of wood to fly off the creature, but he blitzed him nonetheless. The dark wizard didn't seem perturbed by the closing gap between him and the creature if his callous spellcasting was any indication.

'He expects to apparate away,' mused James, a dark smirk crossing his features as he dodged and returned another killing curse with a twisted chain of his own with lightning fast accuracy. A shrill cry of agony came from the previously shielding Death Eater, no doubt not expecting the auror to cast a silent torture curse somewhere in the mix. James capitalized on this with a quick severing charm that connected with the man's neck. The scream ended abruptly, and the spellcasting from the other two unoccupied attackers paused.

"Crabbe... Crabbe! You, you killed him! You bastard!" came the familiar voice of Gregory Goyle Sr, rage filled and more than a little panicked.

The spells picked up again, more ferocious this time, but less calculated; sloppy. James almost felt as though Christmas had come early. If these were the men sent to rescue Dolohov, then he'd have the chance to kill several 'imperiused' Death Eaters. So long as the likes of Malfoy or Rockwood didn't join the fray, he would wipe the floor with them and in self-defense, no less!

Not one to count his dragons before they hatched, James squared his shoulders and focused. He dodged and shielded the barrage of spells, using even the ground itself to rise up and block an attempted torture curse, all the while keeping an eye on the assailant cornered by his colossus.

"What the hell?!" questioned the frustrated man. A raspy, familiar voice. Walden Macnair, the magical creature executioner, James identified.

'He just figured out I layered a one-way anti-apparition field over this clearing. Took him long enough.' He hadn't intended on allowing Dolohov to slip away during his chase, after all.

Sure enough, Macnair tried and failed once more to turn and apparate away, now backing away fearfully from the closing giant that refused to give in to its injuries. Said colossus, battered and finally being eaten away at by the flames poured upon it, smacked - in no other words - the living shit out of the executioner, sending Macnair tumbling a quarter of a field away. If the man was alive after such a hit, he certainly wasn't getting up anytime soon.

The colossus gave a final mighty roar of success before dual exploding hexes found their way to its now exposed chest cavity. The explosions ripped it apart irreparably. It fell to the ground with an earth trembling boom, sending splinters of wood in all directions.

Using the distraction, James sent an overpowered shield piercer trailed subtly by an exploding charm towards Goyle, who took the bait of dodging directly into the field of the overpowered bombarda maxima. Only he was shielded by his remaining comrade at the last second, causing James to frown at the second man's quick thinking.

"Now, now," whispered a soft voice. "It's not nice to use the same trick twice."

'Bollocks,' cursed James, immediately placing the voice. "Ah. Augustus Rockwood. Curious seeing you here tonight. Managed to get 'held under the imperius' again, have you?"

The Department of Mysteries former employee took off his silver mask. "I've no idea what you're referring to, my dear boy. I was simply out and about for a pleasant evening stroll when I saw several of my esteemed colleagues being best upon by an auror with what I must presume is an ill-placed grudge."

The way the man talked, it was a clear mockery of another wizard. A wizard James Potter held in high regard during the man's life. Still did, in fact. The mere thought caused his anger to rise, but he pushed it down, formulating a plan to counter a dark wizard almost as good as Dolohov had been.

"Your impression of him is rather off. For starters, you lack his eccentric vocabulary. Dumbledore was long-winded, I'll grant, but he had style. You, you're just a husk; a conglomeration of multiple borrowed personalities complete with an arsenal of stolen spells. You're hollow."

The older man dropped his faux-jovial smile and bored holes into James with his glare. It appeared the auror had struck a nerve if the Death Eater's silence was any indicator.

"But that's no concern of mine." James fixed himself into a dueling stance, ever so subtly pointing his wand at the ground and casting a sightless, silent spell at the sand with intense focus. "I've no time for your games," he finished absentmindedly, feeling his spell take root.

"I'm in no gaming mood!" snarled Goyle, having grown impatient.

A limb severing curse sailed at the bespectacled auror, and they were off once more. One against two, whilst three others lay scattered about, unmoving. The odds, as exhausted as he was, were certainly in James' favor. All he had to do was keep the admittedly canny Rockwood distracted.

"It's clear your gluttony remains unsustained in your social isolation, but I'm not surprised. After all, who on Earth would welcome you back into the fold - a convicted Death Eater, a mole who cost the lives of countless coworkers. Malfoy, Nott, hell even Crabbe and Goyle-"

"Don't you dare say his name, mudblood lover!"

James answered Goyle's outburst with a blasting hex without missing a beat.

"-they got away fairly clean! They bribed their way back into everyone's good graces. But you? You had nothing to offer anyone, and that lot wouldn't dare help you and risk their own tentative standing, 'innocent' or otherwise. Ostracized, while the rest of your Death Nibbler pals either ponied up to their crimes or were killed."

Rockwood grit his teeth in frustration as he tried to cover for an increasingly sloppy Goyle, all the while acknowledging the aurors words and dismissing them in turn. He let Goyle take a disarming spell that he was too slow to block himself. That was his own petty revenge, the former Unspeakable mused, watching his rotund peer not only lose his wand but also get knocked out in the process. Rockwood's failure to cover for Goyle threw their opponent off guard, however, and that was all the opening he needed.

A neon blue spell left Rockwood's wand and collided with the ground where James had been standing not a second prior. It was spell James couldn't identify by color and trait alone, like many of the ones cast by the former Unspeakable, in which case it was almost always better to dodge. He was just a fraction too late, however, as it was an area effect spell. Instantly, ice erupted from the ground within a four meter radius, jagged crystals piercing up into the aurors leg, causing James to bark a sharp yell of pain.

Rockwood smiled at his victory, the first to gain blood on their absolutely monster of an enemy, he admitted grudgingly. He made to follow up with a killing curse, his wand tip glowing deathly green, when something burst from the ground beneath him.

Snakes. Four meter long snakes, comprised of compact sand and broken shell yet nonetheless sentient, sprung from the ground they'd tunneled under from their inception two minutes prior, and shackled the ex-Unspeakable to the ground with ruthless efficiency. One latched one to the mans arms and constricted. Bones could be heard snapping over the sound of the man's scream, which soon turned to gurgling as the other clamped down on his neck viciously.

James Potter panted. Exhausted and bleeding, but nonetheless successful in taking down five Death Eaters, two of whom were Inner Circle members, in successive duels. He couldn't wait to see the look on Moody's face when he told him. Or his son for that matter. Thoughts of his son brought a melancholic look to the man's face. 'I hope you'll be proud of me..'

But first, he had unfinished business with one Antonin Dolohov. He transfigured himself a cane from his belt buckle to better help him stand, not wanting to waste any more energy conjuring one from nothing. He would need all the magic he could muster for the spell he was interrupted from casting on Dolohov.

James waved his wand through the air, conjuring up his warmest memories - life with Lily and Harry before that awful day - and his thoughts took manifestation in the form of a bright, silvery stag. He sent it off into the distance with a silent message - alert Amelia and Sturgis where he was. He knew by the time the patronus message reached them, he'd be well past done with Dolohov. They'd figure the rest out later, including how the others knew where to find their fugitive friend and when to come to his aide.

James Potter never bothered to check any of the assailants sleeves. If he had, he would have seen a singular mark, once still and faded, now alive and darker than the night.

Limping towards his still unconscious target, he tried to block out the gasps and gurgles still coming from Rockwood. He'd long since cancelled the transfiguration magic holding the snake constructs together, but the Death Eater clung to life. With a stray thought, he summoned all the wands in the vicinity to him. Holding all five in his hands, he proceeded to snap them all in turn.

As he reached Dolohov, James allowed himself to smile tiredly. There would be no more surprises for him today. The sun would rise any minute now, on a new world for him and his son.

Then the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and James spun around, wand at the ready, only to meet darkness.

Red eyes - sharp red eyes set in a contrastingly soft teenage face, but inimitable red eyes nonetheless - met James when he awoke. A cold ball of dread sunk in his chest then, but he voiced what first came to mind. "I knew it."

A laugh, high pitched and cruel and looking oh-so-out of place on a sixteen year old, met his statement. "I know you did, Potter. And what's more delicious, is you made your thoughts known to everyone else. Of course, no one listened, but who can blame them. After all, the thought of someone like me coming back from the grave?" Red eyes shone with mirth. "Now that is terrifying."

"If you're to going to kill me, be done with it." James felt he'd spoken hastily as thoughts of his son swam to the forefront of his mind, but he knew deep down the monster in front of him would never spare his life. Not again.

"Testy, testy. And to think I'd come all this way with you to have a catch-up. Then again, this isn't quite the welcome party I'd been expecting."

The Dark Lord, somehow in possession of a teenage body, gestured to the carnage around them. A man James absently recognized as Mulciber walked around waking Goyle, trying and failing to rouse Dolohov from his unique coma, then checking on a surprisingly still breathing Rockwood and Macnair. It appeared their master had turned the tides of life and death in their favor whilst James was passed out. Bitterness crept up in the man's chest. He should have killed them while they were down instead of letting nature take its route.

"My, such dark thoughts for such a paragon of the light." It appeared he wasn't the only one who could read minds tonight. Voldemort - for he was Voldemort, there was no mistaking - let off a soft chuckle. "What's that muggle expression the old fool loved so much? Aha, 'The shoe is on the other foot now', isn't it? Almost like an exact mirror of the poor state you had Dolohov in not moments ago. Who now would say Lord Voldemort is without his poeticism."

"So you searched your servants memories after getting the drop on me. Am I supposed to be impressed, Tom?" James, in a prior life, had what was referred to by his friends as 'a penchant for properly pissing people off'. The talent, it seemed, hadn't completely fled him in his adulthood.

The torture curse came swift and silently, and James grit his teeth to keep from screaming. He wouldn't allow the monster the satisfaction. Minutes felt like hours, and just on the cusp of passing out, the pain ceased, leaving him to shudder like a fish out of water.

Blood filled his mouth. He'd either bitten something, or perhaps that was just his body giving up.

"Still as impertinent as ever, Potter." The boy housing the monster grabbed James' cheeks in his surprisingly strong hand. He looked familiar, but the auror couldn't place him.

"Thadeus Avery. Son of Magnus Avery. You remember him, don't you?"

James did. Sturgis had put the pathetic man away during the war only for him to bribe his way out of prison along with the other wealthy purebloods.

"Well, he received quite the shock when instead of his son returning from Hogwarts, he got… me."

Flashes of Avery senior being killed by the spectre of his son in front of his dumbfounded mother, blood spraying across the parlor of their home struck James before he managed to break eye contact and pushed the invading legilimens attack out.

Thadeus/Tom smirked. "You're wondering how. How did I survive my death at the hands of a mere infant. How did I return to this plane and come to possess young Avery so completely. How am I standing before you today, with so many of my followers already back into the fold. How, how, how."

"No."

The smirk fell from the boy's face. "No?"

"No." James straightened from his spot bound on his knees and dared to look the villain in the eye once more. "And you certainly talk a lot more than you used to."

"My lord, allow me to kill this impudent mu-"

"That won't be necessary, Mulciber." He sent the Death Eater a look that expressed his displeasure at the man unsilencing himself. "And you, Potter. Pride… It's as present in you as ever, I see. It seemed fitting to send Dolohov after you; different sides of the same coin. Brash, prideful, but for good measure. Both of you are immeasurably talented, though it seems my own man has slipped of late while you… grew."

A strange tone entered Tom's voice as he bent down to once again examine his captive. "Why? Was it merely for revenge? A man took the life of someone you loved and you had to be better to return the favor, is that it?" He searched in James' eyes for an answer, but the Potter Lord kept him out this time. "I don't need to read your thoughts to know the answer, boy."

It was strange, James mused, being called a boy by a mere child - at least, physically.

"You're not just an avenging husband, but a defending father… I see. I suppose that makes as much sense as anything; loss, revenge. It does funny things to a man of conviction. Even a loving father.. Perhaps, especially a father."

James didn't respond, his mind far away. The waves lapped their way further up the beach and the Death Eaters who were alive and conscious began to wonder at their Lord's direction in conversation.

"I've seen your son, Potter!" The Dark Lord's voice returned to its usual sneer driven speed. "Rather, Thadeus has prior to our, hmm, 'bonding'. Went to school together, of course, a few years removed."

The boy/monster paced around James in a familiar sight, but his movements, his speech was somewhat different. The auror could only assume whatever process by which he'd come to take young Avery's body had also integrated some of the boys personality as well.

"Quiet, this 'Harry' is. A bit reclusive even for a Ravenclaw - and I'm half-surprised your Gryffindor heart didn't mind that particular fact - but nonetheless talented; perhaps more so than either of his parents were. There's potential there, I'll grudgingly admit. It's a pity he'll have to grow up without either of his parents now. Orphaned fully, I doubt he'll live long to meet any plans you'd had for him." He closed in on James a final time. "I'm afraid you're heavily to blame, a guilt you'll take to the grave. And with that thought..."

Tom flicked his wand and James unceremoniously flew headfirst into the waiting arms of Goyle and Mulciber. "Wha'dyu want to do with him, mi'lord?" Goyle had recovered, but his jaw hadn't.

"Drown him."

James could have laughed if the brutish Goyle wasn't already choking his windpipe the moment he'd caught him. "Drown him? 'Ow? I've got no wand and Mulciber here don't know that type of magic."

Mulciber angrily opened his mouth to defend himself, but their master cut them off impatiently.

"Not with wands, fools." His voice came out as snakes hiss, once again showing the handsome boy's true identity. "The sea is behind you. Potter loves muggles so much… drown him without magic. Personally. Maybe then he'll feel closer to his wife in death." As the men carried out their masters orders without hesitation, their prisoner fighting tooth and nail to escape, Riddle let out a wry smile at the sight. "A poetic end for my enemies... Let it not be said I am without mercy."

The two Death Eaters let out a few choice words as the freezing northern waters met them. "Merlin's saggy tits, its freezing. A warming charm couldn't have hurt!" Mulciber groused, dragging the tall Potter alongside Goyle.

His friend shook his large head as he repeatedly 'accidentally' dunked Potter in the freezing cold waves, still upset about Crabbe's demise. "You 'eard the master. He wants this blighter killed muggle, we kill him muggle. A warming charm 'll do the trick once we're done."

Mulciber groused but carried on until they were waist deep.

"Pity, Potter. You didn't even make it to sunrise."

"Go fuc-"

James never finished as he was unceremoniously dunked into the frigid waters, instantly taking in a mouthful of the sea. His eyes bulged underwater, registering the cruel laughing of the men above him. He struggled with all his considerable might to break free, but the firm hands holding him were unyielding and the water so cold.

He was trapped, so instead he fought with every fibre of his being to think of Lily. Forced himself to focus on her face in spite of the agony, just as she had. 'I love you,' she'd whispered to their son. Now, he whispered the same thing to the muted darkness underwater. He clung to images of Lily, Harry, even Sirius and his parents; struggled to think of his family when he died, because he'd be damned if he went out thinking of anything or anyone else, let alone himself and the panic he felt. But that too faded in time as the need for air overwhelmed his senses and he soon lost the light.

'Make it end.'

The water in his lungs. The blood in his mouth. The cold.

They overtook him until he thought of nothing else. Overtook him entirely until, finally, James Potter stopped struggling. Stopped moving.

Stopped breathing.

Goyle and Mulciber held him under for a minute more before hesitantly releasing him to float on the surface of the waters. They backed away with a shrug and a scoff, respectively, the latter due to having had to use his own strength and not a simple spell to kill the blood traitor. Potter deserved something nastier, in his opinion, but one did not argue with the will of the Dark Lord.

From the shore, Riddle looked upon the sight of the floating body with a sense of melancholy. He knew better than his vassals - drowning was no mercy. A part of him relished the thought of his enemy in such a helpless state. The tantalizing agony of not knowing if you'd be spared even while you died slowly, deprived of breath, lungs bursting. It was one of the worst ways to kill a man in his experience, and that experience was… vast.

Another part of him felt almost disappointed. Had he just killed the last person to ever pose a semblance of a challenge to him? James Potter was an incredible duelist, no soul could argue that. One of the best, though there lived yet a dozen or so throughout the world equally, if not more, capable with a wand. More than that however, Potter was also a man of conviction and resources. That type of drive, that level of desperation, proved to be a formidable challenge and still the man had been bested. Like the old fool before him, and literally countless others.

Who now was left to stand in his way? If even Potter, or the likes of Dumbledore perished before him, where did that leave him?

'Safe,' a voice whispered in his head. His own voice, he realized. 'It leaves you safe, with the world laid bare before you.'

The sun rose at that moment, colossal and blood red on the horizon.

Riddle looked at it for a second longer than he would normally before turning away from the light. He knew he wasn't completely out of the woods yet. He'd taken a big hit to his forces tonight, courtesy of Potter. There were still threats to be dealt with, still lose ends to tie up and plans to put in motion. But he smiled - genuinely smiled - at the thought of it.

Safe.

Then soon, he would reveal himself to the world. At the opportune moment, he would strike all at once and in the end forever be…

"Watch out!"

He felt the thrum of magic, heard the splash of water, before the warning came. Even so, it wasn't fast enough. This body - his body - was young and limber, but not physically honed and ritually modified to reacting as fast as his old one had been. As it was, he only had time to turn and face the screeching wall of death that approached him.

'FIENDNOTUS!'

'The Dark Wind.'

It was as though the very fabric of matter in front of him rippled in and out, jagged cracks appearing in his reality. It wasn't what was happening, he was aware. The wind was simply so pressurized and distorted by the dark summons, it looked as though a vacuum were occuring. The power of the spell was impressive, the power needed to cast it, even moreso for a dead man.

'Potter…'

Just as the torrential gust met him, Mulciber jumped in front of his master, instantly being sucked into the whirlwind and torn apart at an almost molecular level.

'Terrifying,' Tom admitted internally, not even batting an eye as Dolohov - awoken at the moment of Potter's presumed death - used the time bought with Mulciber's life to wandlessly summon his master to safety with what little strength he had. He hadn't been fast enough, however, as the winds tore at his master's arm, shredding it to the layer of muscle. 'Magic is truly terrifying.'

The facially scarred man passed out immediately from the strain, but his act bought Riddle all the time he needed. Screaming in agony at the condition of his wand arm, he sent a single wandless killing curse at James Potter who, already spent, turned to face the spell dead on.

He had nothing left in him after his wandless summoning of the fourth and least controllable of the fiends. He instinctively used what little magic he had to raise the water to physically intercept Riddle's hastily cast killing curse, but failed to block the hidden cutting curse behind it. His own patent trick used against him

As he bled into the water, James knew what the reality of his situation was.

He was dead on his feet, magically exhausted, and his spell was now unchained. Even so, thoughts of his son drove him to dive under the water as the hurricane of unseen creatures clawed at the surface attempting to penetrate its depths. If he could just hold on until the dark summons disappeared back to its own plane, he could make it out. Voldemort was wounded. While unable to take him in a fight, he could leave the anti-apparition barrier and wait for the reinforcements he'd summoned.

He would see his son again. He would keep him safe. He would see him smile.

'Harry.'

But he ran out of blood. And air. And time.

And with the vision of his beautiful wife swimming up to him the crystal blue waters, James Potter closed his eyes for the last time.

Back on the shore, Tom Riddle took stock of the bleak situation. The dark wind had dispersed at last, but three of his men lay dead, another three on the cusp of death, with himself horribly injured and in turn robbed of his magical strength aside from a few meager wandless spells that his host body could barely manage. Anger rose in him at the pathetic state he'd found himself in. He could hear the old fool even now, just as he had on the fateful night of their last duel. "You've managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory once more, Tom."

Goyle grunted as he finished bringing over Rockwood, the lot of them piled by Tom's feet as the dark lord worked to stem the bleeding of his wand arm. The dead were left where they were. After all, aurors were inbound.

With a final look upon the horizon where the sun-kissed waves washed Potters body out to sea, Tom had one final parting shot to the man who'd caused him more trouble than any other. He thought back to what the auror had said to Dolohov.

"There'll always be an avenger for the good in this world. I guarantee it."

"And who shall be the one to avenge you?" An unplaceable sensation traveled down his spine, but he brushed it off. "I will crush them in turn."

The wards over the area fell with the death of their castor, and with a thundering crack, four Death Eaters and a Dark Lord disappeared, leaving behind a bloody coastline.

At the same time, in a castle not far from that very shoreline, a young man awoke from a nightmare, emerald eyes piercing the darkness.