Author's Notes: This was hell to write, not only because of the content but because of the circumstances I'm currently in. But I really tried to get it together even as jumbled as my schedule's here it is: The second to the last chapter. Also in the epilogue/whatever it'll be (don't know what to call it yet), I think I'm going to give a little behind the scenes explanation for some things. Like holes in the plots, where did ideas come from, idiocies that occurred, etc. Hopefully some of you will be interested. Firstly, for me, I want to see this done.

And maybe I've said this so many times but it never gets old- all your thought-out reviews were very much appreciated. Your time and effort to read this long, looong- and I won't delude myself to thinking it's short because that's just a lie- thing, but still, I am extremely grateful.

---

"I wonder what made you change your mind." Brown eyes staring mercilessly and unwaveringly.

A smile is returned from the other man, but he does not speak. The stated question hangs without answer.

The great ruler continued on, "It is because of that boy's death, isn't it? I would have thought that the boy's death would assure you as my enemy. Not my ally."

The other finally spoke, his voice tantalizingly silky, "No, it is not because of the boy's death." A longing glance out the window, staring out into the mountains. "It is because of the boy."

"A child of wizards? Your affection for him is deeper than I had thought."

A slight shake of his head. "No, it is only that I am in debt to the boy. I cannot figure how to repay it."

Ah. But I do know. It is something I would not tell you, Li Xiao Long.

"Is it one of those wizard trivialities? The wizard's debt?"

A small chuckle. "You know much about the wizards than you let on, my friend."

"Ah, but that is the only way for one to defeat the enemy, to know more about them than they know themselves. That is when one is considered the most formidable opponent."

In half-hearted response, the dark-haired sorcerer sighed and pulled off his glasses. Then he looked out the window with tired eyes.

How many enemies do you think you have, Xiao Long? An ironic smile. I am your enemy, my friend.

"Yes, yes, very true, Xiao Long, on all levels."

And I know more about you than you yourself. Does that make me your most dangerous enemy? And here he was, sitting in the very same room with him, an enemy. Here he was, trusting his every word.

"I will leave you to contemplate your debt with this wizard child." A shuffling of robes and shoes, then a closing of a door.

Breathy laughter. Quietly to himself, "My debt. Yes, I know how I will repay this debt."

To repay my companion for saving me...

…I will let him live again.

And enslave him.

"He will be my pawn to move the pieces, Li Xiao Long. The pieces to end your silly ideals."

Chapter 21, Centuries of Waiting

---

Harry Potter and the Return of the True Sorcerers

by magicalfoci but with all due respect to the original creators of their individual series

---

It was strange, he had to admit, being at the very bottom of a dark pit. They stumbled and climbed between still standing rock towers. They tripped and stubbed themselves among the rubble, and they overall had a hard time crossing. Crossing the expanse of the cavern didn't take that long though. In fact they were almost at the other side. And Meiling didn't look harried at all, even from all that stumbling and tripping. Instead, she looked dazed and was wonderingly touching the rocks and feeling their textures. Harry didn't get it, seeing it as a waste of time and particularly stupid, and he decided to ask.

She smirked back at him. "Xiang's last fight was here, and I'm remembering the sequence of events." She pointed to her head, and her smirk faded away. "I remember fights like that perfectly, but for some reason this is different. It's like, if I close my eyes, I can feel him fighting, doing routines, exercising his magic here. Like a breath or a wind or something. I guess it was his last glory so a part of him was going to haunt this place."

"Like a curse?"

She shot him a look, but he wasn't caring as he jumped over a jutted boulder. "No, it's like a memory. A sacred one," she mumbled curtly. Harry detected an undercurrent of resentment and resignation.

"We shouldn't be here," Meiling continued. "I mean, we're intruding."

"Why shouldn't you be here?"

"It's sacred. It's Syaoran's and Xiang's alone. Their stories were left here!"

"Stories?" Harry mumbled. He grabbed onto a protruding rock to heave himself onto a higher boulder. "Where?"

"Gah!" she cried in exasperation, turning around to glare at him. "I'm speaking figuratively!"

"Oh…" He shrugged. Harry thought that they should start a religion, specifically named the Li religion. If there wasn't one already called that of course. But maybe this was all part of Meiling's philosophy. They should get out a course on Li family thinking style because it was so obviously different from normal people. "So what should we do? Get off here because we're tainting the 'stories'?"

"No!" she cried. "We're almost at the other side!"

Harry was incredulous. "They why did you come down here in the first place?"

"Because! Because… I was drawn to it," she sourly admitted, looking away. And apparently, she couldn't get away from the memories replaying before her eyes. Memories that Harry couldn't remember as clearly as she spoke of them.

Oh, if he thought about it hard enough, he could see the shapes of Xiang and Syaoran blindfolded and jumping and clashing swords.

But drawn to it? Fine. Harry looked up and noticed that she was playing with a necklace or a pendant around her neck—something like that. But at the moment, he was feeling very uncurious and annoyed. Right, drawn to it.

So they continued on their way, not speaking to each other, and quite frankly, Harry preferred it like that. There were times when he felt that no one was making sense except himself, and though it was a bit egocentric, the way people kept secrets and explanations to themselves these days gave him good reason. Deciding to ignore his inner musings, he glanced around him again. Meiling was just finally beginning to climb up the slope that led to the opening they had seen from a distance.

But of course, that was when they heard noise.

Of running. And shouting.

"There they are!" hollered a man.

Meiling snarled as she glanced back at the group of Death Eaters far across the pit, standing on the ledge. "Their alarm system took a pretty fucking long time."

"Don't know why you're complaining," Harry said. "Move up!"

In accordance, Meiling hefted her weight and grabbed onto another rock. "Hurry!" urged Harry, seeing them brandish their wands.

She scowled back, "I'm trying! Give me a break. They're not going to…"

She stopped. For of course, they had brooms. The flying kind. Death Eaters always carried brooms. It was a wizard thing. And guess what? Three of them were just taking off, and the other two were coming right behind.

"Shit, shit, shit! Meiling! Come on!" Harry cursed again. Then he grabbed her feet and with a sudden burst of strength, heaved her up. At first, she flailed, cursing his name, but then she flung her weight forward enough to grab onto a rock as a lever and propel herself upwards.

Harry then grabbed onto a rock and began to heave himself up when he stopped.

"What the hell am I? A wizard or not?" he scathingly reminded himself. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

He floated himself up to Meiling's level then flung himself onto the platform, breaking the spell at the same time. Soft, hissing light whizzed by his ear.

He rolled himself forward into the shadows of the smaller cave. He saw Meiling, from the corner of his eye, trying to wave her torch at them. The Death Eaters were laughing as they honed in on her. She dodged the spells, the multi-colored lights, as she tried in vain to torch them.

"It's no use, Meiling!" He shouted. "That's magical fire! It can't burn!"

"What—" She tossed it in aggravation, and it hit dead-on one of the brooms, knocking a Death Eater off balance and then sending him plummeting to the floor.

Meiling turned, pulled him up, and they both ran. It was a straighter, cleaner path to run, and their feet flew, not knowing where they were going except that there were adult wizards right on their trail. Then Harry felt the throbbing, the annoying throbbing slowly building right beneath his skin. Of all times, though he really should have been expecting it even earlier, his scar began to pound.

He stumbled and grabbed his forehead. He nearly wanted to claw at the scar, to peel it off as if it will solve the problem, but Meiling grabbed his hand and yelled, "Fight it, dammit! Throw mental things at it or something!"

Throw mental objects… god, what the hell…

Suddenly he was grabbed and yanked aside. He threw up his chin, trying wildly to ascertain the assaulter, but only Meiling was glaring at him. "God, just stand there. That's right. Come on!" She grabbed his arm again, and he was lurched forth into a clumsy, uneven run.

Apparently, his momentary lapse had enabled the Death Eaters to gain on them. He started to hear their voices more clearly now.

"I think it's Potter and some Muggle bitch!"

"Potter! That brat's effing everywhere!"

"Yeah, him and that Blue Magician! What the f—"

Meiling had conveniently seen a loose rock, and had picked it up and shot it at the Death Eaters.

"They're throwing rocks at us! Those brats!" The spells that were flying at them became a disturbing, haunting green. Harry reached out, pulled Meiling's head down with his, and with ducked heads, they ran along opposite walls.

Inspired by Meiling and distracted from the throbbing pain, Harry grabbed a stone he saw along the way and cast "Engorgio!" on it. He then tossed the heavy, head-sized boulder to Meiling, who caught his idea and hurled it at their pursuers. She had better aim than he did.

There was a strangled cry. "Arghh!" And a loud thump. There was a yelling, "Nott! Wake up, you arsehole! The kids are getting away!"

"Forget about Nott! The Dark Lord will kill us if they get away!"

"But they won't."

Harry skidded to a stop and looked up. Four Death Eaters were blocking their path. Their wands were already aimed at them. A growing sense of dread crept over his shoulders.

He and Meiling whirled around just in time to see the three other Death Eaters stumbling to a stop. They were panting from exertion and loosely clutching their wands. Meiling immediately seized that chance.

"Crucio!"

"Imperio!"

Both of them threw themselves against the wall to avoid the spells immediately cast at them. Then Meiling body-slammed into one of the three panting pursuers, and she ripped out the wand from his grip and snapped it. Just like that. Even Harry was a little chilled at how easily the wand was snapped. She then ducked behind the man, who was regaining control, as spells flew her way.

"NOT AT ME!" the Death Eater bellowed at his comrades.

His time wasted yelling Meiling used to buffer him up before he could react and slightly throw him forward. He fell over and skidded along the ground. The other four Death Eaters stepped over him—so easily.

"Disgusting, Avery. Being bested by a Muggle. A Muggle," said a woman's voice.

Meanwhile, Harry had whipped out his wand and hollered, "REDUCTO!" There was a great gash on the Death Eater's forearm as he was forcefully thrown aside by the spell.

But it was no use. He had no idea how they were going to get out of this, especially since Meiling was limited to close-range fighting and the Death Eaters merely needed to aim right for a spell to hit. Then it would be over.

Coinciding with his thoughts, Meiling screamed. His attention whipped back to her, and he saw that she was on the ground, her body twitching and jerking in odd angles.

"MEILING!" he hollered and cried, "STUPEFY! STUPEFY!" He couldn't tell which of them was the spellcaster though and hoped that avoiding the spell would be enough to throw off his or her focus.

He didn't expect all of the Death Eaters to suddenly double over clutching their forearms. Seeing some of them pull up their sleeves to reveal the Dark Mark let him confirm the fact that it wasn't him stealing some of Eriol's power again. Apparently, they were being called. He suddenly didn't feel a thing, the ache in his scar ebbing away, which was good. Voldemort's attention was diverted. He just hoped that it was for a good reason.

On the side, Meiling was choking and coughing up blood, but slowly she was pulling herself to her feet. Harry rushed to her side to pull her away from the Death Eaters. Maybe, when they were distracted, they could…

"Bella, take care of these brats. We'll tell our Lord."

"Of course," was the anguished but painfully grating voice of the lady.

The others turned around and rushed down the hall, leaving behind the last Death Eater, towering over them in all her black glory. She took off her mask and Harry saw a sunken face, once beautiful, but now horribly disfigured and distorted from years of drinking in the sweet poison of darkness. Wasn't she one of the prisoners at Azkaban too? The Dementors probably transformed her madness into an absolute abyss.

"W-What are we doing waiting for her?" Meiling hissed into his ear, coughing to her shoulder. Her voice shook him from the sudden hypnotic gaze he was holding with the lady.

"S-Sorry," he stammered back. "She's not all there…"

"Mad people usually aren't," she snapped.

For some reason, Bellatrix Lestrange watched him loop an arm around Meiling as he tried to support her. There was a smile curving her lips. "That's right, Potter. Help your little girlfriend. Be the adorable little gentleman."

"I'll kill her," Meiling snarled. He kept a firm grip around her waist.

"Aren't you supposed to kill us?" Harry boldly asked of the Death Eater, feeling really stupid but deciding it was worth stalling for time.

"Maybe. But I like to take my time." Perfect. Cat and mouse. Harry tensed, his grip on his wand tightening.

Meiling's eyes snapped up, red eyes ablaze. Then she said sweetly, "Enough time to let us run?"

Bellatrix's full lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Of course, dear. Lots of time. Shall I start counting?"

"Would you?" Meiling shot back.

Then the woman really did say, "One… two…," and so Meiling and Harry actually did turn around as if they were going to run.

"Crucio," Bellatrix said the instant their backs were turned. Of course no one was going to actually follow the order of falsehoods and talk.

At the same moment the spell came flying out of the enemy's wand, Harry twirled around, dropped his own wand, and held out his hand. And as if he was wearing a glove, he caught the spell in the palm of his hand. Caught it like a Snitch– oh how long has it been since he's played a game... The light of the spell softly burned—but with coolness. Thanks Clow, Harry thought. For once.

He inwardly smiled at the sudden raw fear emanating from the lady. Things weren't going her way, was it?

"Haven't you heard?" he suddenly said. He tilted his head at just the right angle and allowed his lips to turn into that tiny familiar smirk. "The Blue Magician has a twin." This must be what Eriol always felt like. So in control, filled with power… For such a mellow guy, Eriol sure had a dominant streak.

Then his fingers straightened and his palm turned to face the lady, who was slowly backing away, apparent horror on her sunken features. Then, like a slingshot, the spell stretched back from his hand and flew forward, straight at the Death Eater. She fell to the ground and screamed for several moments before the spell ended.

"How the hell did you do that?" Meiling asked as he swooped down to snatch up his wand. "STUPEFY!" he cast immediately before the woman could recover. Then they began running again, in the opposite direction of the Death Eaters, which meant they were returning to the cavern.

Harry finally shrugged to her question. "Intuition, Eriol-style. It comes and goes, but it's pretty damn convenient—with the timing, I mean." He glanced at her and added, "Mostly learned from watching him."

Meiling sighed.

In the distance, they heard a rumbling sound of something falling or breaking. It was too far away for it to be from a rock tower falling in the cavern. Right? They ran around the bend with Meiling falling behind several times due to phantom pains, Muggle aftereffects of the Cruciatus. They ran around the fallen Death Eater and their rock that did the deed. Then there was a sudden burst of noise up ahead, like a crowd or a mob in the heat of a fight.

There was light in the cavern, and maybe it was from Meiling's torch that she had previously thrown, but when they drew closer, Meiling suddenly flung Harry back. He had skidded too close to the edge where a greenly lit spell had deflected.

The light in the cavern was flickering with hundreds of shadows many colors from hundreds of spells flying through the air. "What's going on?" he whispered, trying to peer over without being seen. The sound of the mob was much louder. Right in their ears now. There was a battle going on below them, in the cave Syaoran and Xiang's battle took place. Rock pillars were falling, and men and women were shouting over the din of screaming from opponents in duels. He could see the black of Death Eaters merging in and out of shadows and purging through the Light warriors. The Light warriors were trying to do the same, but instead of camouflage, some practically disappeared. He was awestruck by the sudden change. He felt it was just minutes ago when he and Meiling were alone, climbing across the abandoned expanse.

"GET BACK YOU TWO!"

It was an Auror they didn't recognize, but they could tell from the white strip of cloth around his biceps what side he was on. He flung out a shield before them just as they were stumbling back. The curse that was heading towards them was deflected, and when they looked in the direction it came from, they saw a masked Death Eater turning away.

Suddenly, a robed man appeared next to Harry in a blinking way that was a characteristic of the sorcerer's teleportation method. His narrowed eyes glared down at Meiling. "Why are you two here?" he demanded softly.

Meiling scowled and heaved herself to her full height (she was slouching before due to after pain). "It was an accident! I touched a Portkey without knowing."

He opened his mouth to say something, but was distracted when a body, a corpse, was thrown his way. The man shot up a shield by holding out his palm, and the body bounced off and rolled across the floor. It was a Death Eater's body and the mask had fallen off, revealing a young man's face- now ghostly white and his black lashes a stark contrast against his skin.

Harry felt bile rise at the back of his throat. It was easy, so easy, to see over the dead bodies and just look at all the ones still moving. The corpses became part of the field, the landscape, and every time someone fell, the body just melted away, camouflaged into the shadows and the dark ground. His eyes blurred out the details and forgot they were there.

Meiling was panting harshly next to him, and he suddenly heard her breathing loud and clear amid the battle. She whispered, a stark contrast to how she acted earlier with the sorcerer, "I never thought I'd say this. I never... But I'm not meant for this. Nonmagical. Muggle. I can't do this. I'm not made for this kind of battle." When Harry looked at her, he saw broken red eyes with tears at the corners. He suddenly understood how much she hated admitting that. He understood because he felt the same.

He looked back at the fight. "I don't think anyone's made for battle." And seeing the dead eyes of the man who teleported away, he added, "Not even sorcerers."

---

Chapter 28

Unveiling of Names

---

Once Voldemort's lair was discovered, of the entire Light army that was present, the first to step in was Albus Dumbledore. Upon recognition of this famous man's magical signature (which the Dark Lord knew very well), the highest Defenses available in the Dark Lord's vicinity alerted the Dark forces, and they were all immediately heading to all the openings for the fight that waited ahead.

Of course, Albus Dumbledore knew that this would happen. For he chose to step in first as a challenge to his nemesis. He was challenging him to raise up what evils he had accumulated in this great underground pit and send it forth to meet the Light army in a clash that will be known as the most momentous battle in the history of the wizarding world.

It was not the most momentous because of incredible strategy or an inspirational movement or the particular loyalty and devotion of a leader or such, but it was momentous because of how the battle turned from a great cooperation among the entire Light army into a fight among a few select individuals.

When the Light Army filed in, they found themselves in a great circular room. The battle began there with the dozens of Death Eaters guarding twelve doors leading out of the room. As the battle started, though, Shacklebolt raised his hand and gave a signal– the order to divide. They've done this many times in previous battles at other schools with just as many exits and entrances. Twelve squads, went through twelve different doors, the last few still fending off the remaining Death Eaters.

There were more coming but that was to be expected. As the twelve squads split up, they were held together by their connection through mirrors and the sorcerer's connection to each other.

Though, this time they weren't going to bother with wandering the maze.

Moody gave the order, "Tear the damn walls down! We're not gonna waste our precious time wandering this goddamn labyrinth!"

True, there were many spells and wards on the walls, and all of which seemed to be fairly new. So five different sorcerers, specialized in destruction, took on that order by summoning great spirits, tearing it down with raw force, and much more. It was a little bit later that they sorely missed the Card Mistress for her powers could reduce this laborious task into a mere happening. But, unfortunately, she was captured, somehow and some way, and no longer granting wishes with a snap of her fingers like a little taken-for-granted genie.

The other sorcerers in the other seven squads continued with the wizards, and all of them were ordered to hit-and-run, but naturally, when had that changed since February? The tide of the war altered because of this maneuver, and if the formula worked, why break it?

Matthews's squad, the one that Fei Ning is a part of, went to look for prisoners and so they became invisible and snuck through the halls. They tried to avoid as many collisions with Death Eaters as possible. Sometimes it just wasn't possible, but evading them was.

On the other side, three squads ran through the hallways and rooms and chose doors where there were Death Eaters on the other side waiting for them. But within half an hour, all three squads met up in a large cave where Death Eaters and monsters alike waited for them.

---

But, mind, there were monsters everywhere. Whole hallways and rooms with monsters. Granted, the alarm system that alerted the Death Eaters may have also released every hybrid that could be made and was made under the Dark Lord's orders, but the sheer number of them made wizards and sorcerer forego their initial horror (usually associated with monsters) and fight them, treating them as they would Death Eaters.

Which, naturally didn't work so well.

So, as if reminding them, a furious roar shook the entire hall they were in and though many of the warriors tried to stay focused on the battle at hand and save themselves from the gnashing teeth of some green-spotted, half-tiger half-lizard creatures, they could not just overlook their ally.

For Keroberos had more things to worry about than little animals blocking his path. One, his Mistress. Two, Yue. Three, his Mistress and Yue were captured. Captured. Somehow the meaning of the word eluded him because, for him, captured and Sakura and Yue did not fit into the same sentence. For those two were big proper names that deserved sentences of their own.

Puffing and hurling out fireballs, he roasted little monsters alive. Oh, he knew Sakura was going to be pissed at him. For here he was, disregarding the lives of magical creatures. But really, at this point, did he care? These little idiots sure didn't, much less have a mind anymore after being merged with other species which messed up certain brain functions, including the ones called "Compassion" and the "oh-man-I-better-not-mess-with-the-great-sun-guardian-Keroberos-when-his-mistress-is-captured."

For he trampled them and pounced on them. He wrestled with the lizard-tiger and brought it down with a flare of heat. As long as there weren't any dragons hiding around here, he was good.

A wizard was gasping out from being knocked away by one of the creatures. He was saying, "Shit, these beasts... there's no end to them!"

"You say these are beasts?" Keroberos snapped, unnerving the wizard even further (but of course, not realizing it). "I'll show you what a beast is! For I am the Great Guardian Beast!" His ego saw no limit.

He sprouted his wings (see, he was a hybrid too!) and flew over leaping tiger lizards. Wizards saw his intent and were pushing their way out of the mess. Just as the last witch made it, Keroberos let out a great fireball, or roar of flame, however it is called, and it engulfed the group of monsters just before they could split.

But more replaced the ones that were lost.

And there was a sudden shift in attention. It was like all the animals now acknowledged Keroberos's presence, but maybe not his superiority in the 'beast' genre. Because currently, they all attacked him. They even ran past the wizards and sorcerers without a backwards glance to think 'wait-these-are-also-my-enemies' (if they were capable of that at all), but instead, single-mindedly went at Keroberos. To some, the Sun Guardian just flapped his wings and tossed them back. To others, he had to really perform. He gave a show of flexibility and strength when he twisted around beasts and avoided bites by snapping and tearing out his own. He swiped with his claws and bared his teeth. He acted like any lion would in a dire situation as this– just a far more intelligent one.

But really there were too many, and it took him a moment before he noticed how he was being targeted. That was fine though, the head of the squad was giving the go ahead and many were running on to the next hallway. No, really, it was alright, they could just leave him here. Not help him. Let him fight them on his own. He was the great guardian beast after all. He didn't need them.

Letting out a great roar that scared off the lesser hybrids, he engulfed himself in flames and pounded his way through the crowd. "You stupid little brats! I'll show you!" When he reached a little clearing from the animals, he jumped around and let out a long stream of flame all around him to keep the monsters at bay. He felt like a fire hose. "GARGH! Where's the respect, huh? Why the hell do you guys have to keep on bothering me!"

Then soon he was overcoming them. He pounced on some more and trampled a path through them, and found less creatures returning to the fight.

After all the trampling and roaring and pouncing, he landed in another open space, clear of bodies, and glad for the breather, he panted from the exertion. If he kept this up, he'll run out of energy way too soon.

"Ah, Keroberos, finally."

Keroberos looked up at the speaker, and his jaw dropped (very uncomely for a lion). Before him was Spinel Sun lying on an altar of some sort. The black panther eyed him sleepily.

Some monsters from behind crept up and looked ready to jump Keroberos again, but Spinel Sun just looked at the creatures as if to say "No more," and all of them backed away.

Keroberos glanced behind him, around him, and then accusingly back at Spinel Sun. "YOU MADE THEM COME AT ME!"

The panther lazily stood up, stretched his forelegs, and yawned. "As always, you have to be so loud."

---

Tomoyo sat up.

She wasn't in the dungeons. Nor was she lying before the Dark Lord.

No, she was somewhere far away from that.

She was sitting under a cherry blossom tree. It was like she was back in Tomoeda with all the pinkish white petals fluttering to the ground around her, like soft, unhurried snow. She sat on a little hill of grass with the tree stretching over her head and shading her from the bright golden, sun-filled sky.

When she looked around her though, she saw how the green of the grass faded away into a mist. There were shadows of a hilly plain through the mist, but not much else was to be seen. The top of her little hill and the sky were the only clear expanses of vibrant color. She was dreaming.

She herself felt cleaner too, unlike her state in the dungeons. She felt like she had just gotten out of a long warm bath and her hair was just drying and curling around her face. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the scent of cleanliness, not-stale air, and the perfume of natural flowers.

For a moment in this pseudo-reality, she was home.

"Tomoyo-chan!"

She looked up. Sakura was sitting on a branch and bending over to smile at her.

"Sakura-chan!" she greeted warmly. "The Dream Card?"

Her best friend nodded enthusiastically. "Someplace to relax a bit," she said. "As long as I have time."

"I thought your cards were burned," Tomoyo said hesitantly. "Unless…"

Sakura just smiled, taking away all of her doubt. "How are you feeling?" she asked, swiftly turning the subject around.

The violet-haired girl didn't mind and instead, grinned cheekily. "What do you think? With you here keeping me safe, I can't feel anything but happy."

She laughed at the pleased blush highlighting her best friend's face. Sakura jumped down and joined her under the tree. Tomoyo noticed how she was wearing capris and a t-shirt, so very Sakura not to wear a dress when Tomoyo wasn't the one to design it. As for Tomoyo herself, she was in a simple white summer dress, most likely of the Dream Card's making to put her more at ease.

"How long will we stay here?"

Sakura fingered a cherry blossom petal until she let it go, letting it flutter its last ways to the grass. She shrugged at her question. "Until you wake up. Until I'm pulled away."

Tomoyo accepted that answer, and after a moment of letting her mind wander, she lied back, closing her eyes and letting the warm breeze flutter through her hair and caress her skin. She could sleep like this, without worries, but that'd be a thing to say, wouldn't it? I fell asleep in my dream. She giggled at the weird looks she'd garner from that statement. Unnoticed by her peaceful and relaxed best friend, Sakura just gave a little, knowing smile.

"When did you get Mao Kang to do that?"

"Hm?" Tomoyo opened her eyes, and looked at Sakura curiously. "What did Mao Kang do?"

"White Bird, his eel friend. He's protecting you with him. When did he do that?"

Tomoyo glanced back at her shoulder and saw the black, inky painting- a very good one too. Looking at it with an artistic eye, it was a very clever rendition of an eel. All the proportions were correct that one could not mistake it for a snake or a worm but an eel. "It's Mao Kang's?"

"Hn," Sakura leaned forward to look at the eel better. "When I was captured, I was looking for him because a unicorn saw him unconscious in the forest." She frowned. "I pray someone else got to him in time. I did send Kero to tell Syaoran."

"He'll probably be coming here now to find you." They exchanged knowing grins. Then Tomoyo returned to the original subject, "But I suspect Mao Kang did this in cooperation with Malfoy."

"I was wondering about that but...I wasn't sure." Sakura sat back, looking fairly puzzled.

"The drawing of this eel," Tomoyo started. "Is definitely Malfoy's work. He has a very good hand from what I could tell in the few times I've seen him. He's drawn beautiful works in the past. Mao Kang... well you've seen those posters, haven't you?"

Sakura smirked. "Oh, how could I forget those?" Then she turned to stare at the sky. "I never knew Draco had such a hobby."

"He's more than we think, judging from what he's doing now."

Sakura's eyes hardened. "He aimed to hurt you."

"Some evils are necessary." Tomoyo lowered her eyes and tried to keep her voice low and soothing. She remembered that look on Sakura's face. It was the look that proclaimed, No one will hurt my friends. And if you dare, I will destroy you in every way possible. But what if it was a friend hurting a friend? Apparently, Sakura was just as unforgiving.

"He should have considered the consequences."

Tomoyo glanced sideways at her. "I think he already had, and he was prepared to face them. He's very much like Syaoran in that case."

It was amusing to see Sakura's face becoming irritated. One proud, hard-headed Syaoran in the world was enough, thanks. While worrying her lower lip, she paused to say, "I just can't figure out what he hopes to gain from this."

"Think," Tomoyo said. "What is first and foremost in Syaoran's heart?"

Sakura stared at her friend for a long moment, her eyes never wavering but becoming unfocused. "His family," she finally said with certainty. "He honors his family the most. That's why Draco is doing this. Because before, he knew he was cut off from his family." She gritted her teeth. "I never knew how much it hurt him. To have no blood family. No wonder he felt so separated from us."

Tomoyo nodded. "And there is someone else that is first in Syaoran's heart."

Sakura's eyebrows drew together as she tried to think of the next most important virtue. "Someone?" She drew a blank. "Well his mother is his family so..."

The violet-haired girl laughed and decided not to drag it out. "It's you, Sakura."

Sitting up straight, Sakura looked perplexed. Unsurprised but perplexed and unsure. "But, Tomoyo, it's been so...hoe..."

Tomoyo just shook her head. "Childhood loves don't falter so easily. It's just changing between you two, and you're not sure what it is yet because you don't want to acknowledge it. It's just maturing, Sakura."

Sakura tilted her head and acquiesced to Tomoyo's explanation. She didn't want to childishly retaliate to make herself feel better so she just meekly accepted the answer. She didn't understand except that Syaoran's unwavering feelings towards her scared her. "But what does this have to do with Draco?"

"You're my best friend, Sakura. I would die for you."

Sakura's eyes widened and snapped to those sincere violet eyes. A shudder ran down her back at the simple admission. She returned just as truthfully, "I'd die for you too." Thinking back to the Phoenix room and the memory of a helpless and distraught Syaoran, she thought, I really would. Even if it hurts him. She felt a pang in her chest. A deep well of remorse bubbling up and constricting her throat. She hurt him. She really did.

Tomoyo nodded, unsurprised. She paused, closely examining the haunting shadows that suddenly appeared in Sakura's green-flecked eyes. Then she said, "Malfoy sees these ties among us. He knows that taking me would inevitably lead to you and then to Syaoran."

Sakura could see what her friend was saying, but she was suddenly seeing it in another way. Draco was thinking that if he took away the one person, the one purpose to their whole adventures since August, he'll be opening a floodgate.

He was trying to lead them here, to Voldemort's newest base. He was like Syaoran, instigating a whole battle with a simple maneuver.

"I understand now."

And Tomoyo knew she did. For another few minutes, or hours, or whatever since time didn't seem to matter here, they sat in an uneasy silence under the blanket of the tree. In those moments, they tried to forget the war, the differences between them- where one was a witch and the other a sorceress. One was average and the other almost a god. They laid these differences aside and saw what they saw when they were just ten-years old: fiercely loyal best friends.

After a while, Tomoyo opened her eyes again and saw how her vision was blurry. The sky blended into the mist and the tree became smooth and spots of many colors. It was like an impressionist had taken over the scenery with his dabbing paintbrush.

"Sakura, why is everything..."

Her best friend's warm hand soothingly touched her own. "You're just waking up."

---

Tomoyo blinked several times to re-focus her vision. There were white spots, like she just stepped out of the sun and into a far darker place, which was exactly what she did if she considered it. When her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of a one flickering torch, she recognized her cell again. The rusty bars that really should be harder to open but with the numerous spells cast on it, it wouldn't open at all except to those with the authority. And there was the little ceramic bowl with so many cracks on it that to a Muggle's eye it was a wonder how the water didn't just leak through.

Slowly sitting up and trying not to torment her aching muscles, she glanced up at her guard. Of all people and in the light of coincidence, it was Draco Malfoy standing stoically in front of her gate. He didn't seem inclined to speak though, and Tomoyo understood. She wasn't sure if she'd have the heart to speak either. After all that... it'd be too cruel.

There was a commotion down the hallway that dragged both of their attentions, and there were several torchlights being waved around frantically and coming closer. Soon enough, a dozen or so masked Death Eaters were running past them. They were yelling so quickly to each other that it was hard to catch their words.

Until, of course, she listened closely and let several words drift to her, "-the fucking Aurors found us-"

"-goddamn Light Army-"

"-taking over the North Section, the Fallen Cavern, and heading centerlong-"

Not only did Tomoyo raise her eyes to the furious men, but Draco looked up as well. He hid a most pensive and nervous expression behind the mask of seriousness and coolness. But no one knew cool like Tomoyo did, and she saw the tremors in his fingers. Was he afraid of what the Light army will do to him when they find him? Of what Syaoran might do? He shouldn't be so afraid. Or maybe if he was found out? He still shouldn't be so afraid. But who knew what he was thinking?
When the Death Eaters were gone, they were left in a silence more intoxicating and pressing than before the clamor had rushed its way past. Suddenly even the slightest of noises became a great reverberating presence, like Draco's heavy breathing and the rustling of Tomoyo's robes as she shifted into a more comfortable position.

Suddenly, his voice broke the silence: "Daidouji."

Her gaze snapped up, but Draco wasn't looking at her. He looked as if he never spoke, but she knew he did and he knew he did. That was what mattered.

He breathed out, "I'm sorry." He quickly added, "You might not care, and I'm not asking for forgiveness. But I just wanted you to know."

Tomoyo slowly smiled, and luckily, he didn't see. "Doing this was very rash, very—" Let's speak Hogwarts-style. "—Gryffindorish." She caught a wince from him. "And if I didn't trust Professor Snape so much, it would be much harder for me to understand you."

Draco made a noise in the back of his throat. It sounded like a grunt and a swallowed sigh. He turned his head slightly so he could catch her in his peripheral vision. "You don't need to say anything, Daidouji." Because no matter what I did, I did it fully aware of myself. It wasn't some stupid Gryffindor nobleness; at least he refused to say it was. He saw it more as a way to preserve his sanity. I did it to save myself, knowing in turn that I'll have to hurt her.

If anything, he considered it the pure form of a Slytherin and, just for that, he was bitterly proud.

Tomoyo, though, just said, "But I think I should ease your guilt—a bit at least."

Draco hated and admired girls that acted all-knowing and who could still act this way in a dank and dirty dungeon. It was the same with guys, though the only one he knew who was like that was Hiiragizawa—and everyone hated and admired him.

"You never hurt me. The Cruciatus never hurt me," she said suddenly, breaking his train of thought.

He frowned. "I really hope you're not that dense to forget the pain. Even I remember what it feels like, and it's been months since it last happened."

"You shouldn't know how it feels like at all," she said quietly. "But still, your spell never hit me. Sakura wouldn't let it."

"But you were screaming…" His voice became hollow. Sakura wouldn't… let it? But I saw her…I saw her…

But now he began noticing little things. Tomoyo's voice was smooth, silky, and never out-of-breath. She moved swiftly and gracefully. She didn't have odd, jerky movements or a scratchy voice as any normal witch or wizard would have right after experiencing the Cruciatus Curse. But he would know if the curse didn't work. For one, she wouldn't be screaming like she did. For two, her body wouldn't have jerked in all those painful-looking spasms like it did. He dared to turn around now, dropping his stiff expression.

She smiled up at him, almost glowing in contrast to the darkness of her cell. "One of her cards is called The Illusion."

It was really self-explanatory, and he got it immediately. He backed up against the bars and closed his eyes tightly. Then choking back a laugh, he saw a moment later that Tomoyo was discreetly hiding her own smile. So the saying in the forest was true: The Card Mistress herself is a deck of hidden cards.

He slid down to sit on the ground, not caring it was dirty. Merlin, he hoped she had a lot. The relief was so unburdening that he felt lightheaded and unsure if he could stay balanced anymore.

So sitting on the opposite side of the bars to Tomoyo, he laughed. His laughs were muffled and choked, but they kept coming, reverberating from deep inside his chest. Then he waited and listened. It was so perfect. She was fine. Everything was just going accordingly...

He still did it though. His laughter died. And that memory will stay with him. Sakura's punishment was in that memory of the kicking and screaming Tomoyo. It was her way to tell him, I'll show you what you could have done. I won't spare you from your choice. He smiled grimly. He'll take it.

There was a silence between them, both having said what needed to be said already. They heard the din of men yelling and running in the distance. The sounds of them were going further and further away.

Finally, "We're alone."

Tomoyo looked up, startled, and then nodded.

"Let's get you out."

Her eyes widened. So sudden? Just what is he thinking? "But-" she began to protest.

He cut her off, "Now's the best time as any. They're all distracted, and if we run into trouble we can call for help. The Light Army is like a bunch of bugs. They're everywhere." He was scanning his wand over the cell door, and the lock popped open. Soon he was helping Tomoyo to her feet and out of the cell.

After kneeling for so long she stumbled from the sudden return of blood into her lower limbs. Then something fell, and Draco swooped down to save it. He caught a long pink card and handed it to her. "Isn't that-"

"Sakura's?" she finished for him as she smiled at the Dream Card. "Yes." She moved it between her fingers and right behind the Dream Card was the Illusion. She tucked them away.

"Let's go," he said.

"Where?"

"Just follow me." He took her hand and tugged at her. Soon, they were both dashing down the dungeons with the thumping of their shoes the only sound in their ears. The clamor of battle was too far away from them now.

Draco opened a small door in one of the cells. Why there was a door in a cell, she couldn't figure out. But it looked like he had it planned out. Inside, he cast "Lumos!" and led her up some stairs that curved and went in circles, like a spring. It was so steep that they were left climbing like it was a ladder instead. It was a wonder how neither of them complained or mentioned anything, though.

Because of their upbringing, they were raised in good conditions. Here, there was water sliding down the steps and dripping in the center opening down to the very bottom of a black abyss that neither of them wanted to know more about. There was mold and streaks of dirt and what looks like dried blood covering the stone steps. Bits of wet slime was oozing into and out of the cracks and corners, and Tomoyo was sure of having seen tiny dark inkblots crawling in and out of the shadows.

"This is returning a favor for when you brought me to the Clabberts," Draco finally said.

She just smiled. "A bit over much?" He smirked.

They lapsed into a deep silence again. Draco concentrated on climbing and leading the way, and Tomoyo concentrated on the former and following him. They reached a landing where they had to stop for a moment and lean against the wall to rest.

"So Sakura protected you," he whispered, always breaking the quiet first.

She nodded and watched him close his eyes. "I still meant to hurt you."

"No, you didn't." She waited for him to lock eyes with her. Then with conviction, "You put Mao Kang's seal on me to protect me. You knew that I would be safe."

"But when I heard them," he said, looking lost. "And then I saw you. I thought it failed. I thought..." He shook his head. "I still cast the curse."

"Then, you were following orders."

"To save myself."

"Not just yourself," she insisted. "Something that mattered to you."

She smiled at the affronted look on his face. She went on, "You don't know me so I certainly can't be on your list of people who matter to you. So I understand. If I had to choose between you and Sakura, I'd choose her myself. She is my precious person."

He understood her too. Here they were, connected through their devotion to certain people or certain ideals in their lives.

"Who're you protecting?"

Draco looked away. "Like I said, myself."

She just shook her head, but before she could say anything, he interrupted, "We've rested enough. Let's go."

---

Syaoran was in an anxious state. He joined one of the squads that branched off eastwards, and surprisingly enough, their hall was free of hybrids and monsters. There were Death Eaters, but to him, they felt like fodder for defense. It was a waste of both of their times, and he wondered vaguely if Lord Voldemort decided to retreat somewhere else again, which would render his mission and Dumbledore's mission useless. He decided it wasn't worth contemplating. Dumbledore already sent out his challenge. There was no way that Lord Voldemort would shy from it.

Men beside him were calling out spells and waving their wands in complex movements, and quite frankly, he was impressed by the creativity of their spells and the effort it took to perfect them and use them effortlessly in battle. His family would call all that moving and waving of the wand a waste of their time, but here, wizards were throwing out spells like poisoned chocolate and showering multi-colored lights in the dark and gray underground. Hand and wrist cramps seemed inexistent among them, and he suspected it was in their makeup, genes or whatnot, to be like that.

They were used to him by now. He ran with whichever group that seemed to be heading in the direction he was going for, and no one questioned his presence anymore. They passed Matthews group in one of the rooms, and the last he saw them, they were slightly panicking, unsure as to the direction of the dungeons. He crashed a wall to check on the progress of the sorcerers on tearing the walls down. The wall was easy to break; he supposed that was improvement. Matthews squad went through his hole with only Fei Ning taking unnecessary time to bow and thank him.

He didn't notice. So many things were on his mind, swirling and jumbling into each other, becoming incomprehensible the more he thought about them. Sakura was here somewhere, captured as hard as it was to believe. Draco was here, hiding among the Dark ranks, and Tomoyo was another prisoner. Mao Kang, Harry, Meiling, and Harry's two friends- god knows where they ended up and while the forest was relatively safe, the security wasn't perfect. Things could still get through. Dangerous things. Lastly, he wanted to know what the-

"Your road ends here."

They all noticed him simultaneously, like he controlled whether they saw him or not. Like he just stepped out of the shadows or just appeared out of thin air, but it felt like he was there all along, waiting for them.

It was Professor Ozarki. Sir Nago Ozarki. Pseudo-sorcerer. Whatever the hell he called himself.

"You traitor," spat a wizard, the Weasley brother, Bill.

The man's face was gaunt, pale, and withering. His eyes were bright, though; wide and open and with strange lights reflecting off of them. When a witch stepped forward, a high-classed witch, judging from her battle robes, and threw out a Binding Spell, Ozarki raised his arm, dragging it forward from his wrist as if a string was attached to it. Then his palm snapped open and the spell dispersed just as it reached him.

Syaoran narrowed his eyes. Sometimes, he just hated being right.

A duel started up between the Weasley brothers, Bill and Charlie, and the pseudo-sorcerer. The rest of them became backup and were ordered not to interfere except when there was a real opening. Interference caused more trouble than necessary. Syaoran's cousin, Pian Ning, whispered to him, "Xiao Lang, do you see–"

"Yes," he nearly growled. "I do." He concentrated hard on pushing his anger away, but it was beginning to flood through him, making the edges of his vision turn red.

Just as Charlie Weasley cast out a powerful Cutting Curse and Ozarki slowly raised his hand which the earth was subtly bending towards, Syaoran swung out his own arm and with it, he flung his aura at the man.

The sudden shockwave of his aura made physical impact with Ozarki and sent him flying to the side wall. He hit with a loud CRACK! and slid down in a jagged and painful route to the ground.

Stepping in front of everybody, Syaoran held out his pendant before him and it morphed into a sword.

"I never thought you would go so low as to use a human as your puppet, Hiiragizawa."

There was low laughter. Soft, amused, dark. It was the laughter of a boy-man who foresaw everything, who danced with a Dark Lord, who delighted in teddy bears and bees, and who mocked the war. And, of course, it was the laughter of a puppet master.

Eriol's glasses and his golden staff were the first things they saw glinting in the light when he walked from the shadows. He raised his hand, and there were blue strands of light shining from each of his fingers. His fourth finger twitched. Ozarki's right arm fell forward to lie across his chest. Then Eriol swung his arm to the side. Ozarki flew from his reposing spot and was tossed to the opposite wall where he knocked headfirst into the stone and then his body curled up into an awkward sleeping position.

Again, Syaoran hated being right. Especially about someone he wanted so badly to trust. So when he said, "You released the underground spirits that last battle," he knew and deliberately accused Eriol Hiiragizawa of murder. Murderer of hundreds.

And Eriol bowed.

---

Meiling wasn't getting any better. She was fading in and out of awareness, and once she asked Harry, "Where am I?" He didn't bother to answer since in the next moment she shook herself awake and grumbled obscenities under her breath. They've been hiding at the opening to the cavern for a long while now.

Shacklebolt had found them earlier after being notified by an Auror, and he hid them in one of the crevices along the walls. He waved his wand over them and muttered a few quick words that was hard to catch, and then with a severe look, he ordered, "Stay here. Stay quiet." Don't move. Don't breathe.

Which they followed whenever Death Eaters passed, or even when Light warriors passed. It didn't matter now. In the heat of battle, everyone was an enemy, and Harry told Meiling that he didn't fancy calling out to Light warriors, startling them, and being at the end of a nasty spell. She kept quiet after that. She had one spell too many already.

And Harry didn't know what to say because she really was suffering from the aftereffects of the Cruciatus or something of the like. He didn't know if this was what happened to all Muggles, since very few lived to tell the tale nor did he meet very many, but Meiling's senses had dulled to the point where he was the one keeping watch and slapping a hand over her rambling mouth when people came.

He once wondered aloud why no one bothered to give them a stinking Portkey or Apparate them out. Meiling opened one eye and slumped over.

"Are you stupid?" she asked.

He glared at her, indignant. "You shouldn't be talking," he grumbled.

She continued like she didn't hear him, and she probably didn't. "Every time there's a battle, Dumbeldore puts up and holds Apparition wards and general Portkey wards. That way the battle's a closed field, or else they can bring anything or can leave the battle prematurely. They still can, of course," she yawned. "But only by using tougher methods. I don't know what. But they've been doing this since we began recovering the schools."

Harry raised an eyebrow, impressed at how easily she spoke of Apparition and Portkeys. "Spoken like a true natural of the wizarding world, and do I detect a hint of an English accent in there?" There wasn't any, but he was teasing. A sorry attempt at lightening up the dark mood, he found out.

"Shut up," she scowled at him. "And if you listened at all at any of those open meetings, you'll learn a lot too. General strategy is that Dumbledore and Sakura secure the background. Syaoran and Shacklebolt lead the foreground. It's always been like that for a while now."

He shrugged and mulled over the facts in his head. Did that mean Dumbledore was hiding somewhere, holding the wards in place? How could he put wards up when the Dark Lord had his own? Layer his own on top of the enemy's? He was curious about how that worked. Whenever he looked through Eriol's eyes, he could see it all if only briefly. See how the ambiguity that was magic worked to these laws that currently was unknown to him.

Flexing his fingers, he smiled to himself. Hermione would love to learn about this. She would love to see through Eriol's eyes. But he knew, to see through Eriol's eyes, many things will make sense but a thousand more will not. One just learned to accept them.

Meiling's eyes, open but not quite focused, was watching his hand as he turned them over and looked at them. Well, she could be seeing something entirely different, but suddenly she said, as if reading his thoughts, "Do you think you can use his power now and take us out of here?"

Harry pursed his lips as he glared hard at his wrists. "No, I don't think so."

"Figures. Just like the person himself. Elusive, never there when you need him."

He frowned and didn't say anything. Personally, he thought Eriol's power was pretty timely for him. But he had a feeling that he may be the only one who thought that. He trusted Eriol. Very people could say that with sincerity; in fact, the only other he knew of was Sakura. But she trusted everyone.

But Harry wasn't prone to putting his trust in people, especially manipulative and secretive people like Eriol. But Eriol was human, too, and that helped in Harry's eyes.

"I wonder what he's doing now," Meiling said. "I wonder if Syaoran is right. That he is the one who trumped them in that last battle. With the black thing and the falling walls."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Knowing Eriol, things could go either way.

"But that makes him a murderer," Meiling hissed, turning to him, her eyes suddenly focused on his.

"I don't think he's a murderer," he answered back.

Meiling was one of the many who saw Eriol as the half-reincarnation of Clow Reed, a powerful sorcerer, a mysterious entity, a god-like human.

But Eriol never had a mother. Eriol watched his father die. Eriol grew up taking care of others. Taking care of himself. No one–no one ever took care of him. And Eriol told him that the only way he could hold onto himself, apart from the Clow inside, was his self-doubt. What kind of life was that?

Harry closed his eyes. That was the life of every human being in the world. And he knew. He just knew. Maybe it was a Clow thing that he understood such a thing, but Hermione was right. At the core, Eriol was just a boy like any of them.

"How could you say that?" she asked, her tone tightening with anger. "Do you know how many died in that battle? If you'd listened, if you'd cared, you would know. Two hundred and forty-three lives were lost in that battle. For more than half, there were no bodies because they were dragged down in that pit! If Hiiragizawa did that–"

He cut her off, "If he did that! Look at you! Look at every one of you who are just heaping the blame on him! Everything that goes wrong, it's Eriol's fault! Every time you're in a snitch, oh where the fuck is Eriol?" It was just like the press and his classmates. Love Harry Potter. Hate Harry Potter. Oh, Harry Potter is mentally retarded, insane, disturbed. Oh, he's a liar. Then, oh gosh, Voldemort is back. Let's now laud him as a hero. The poor little lamb. The unheard boy. Great hero. Boy-who-lived.

But Eriol didn't even get the hero-part. When he did something great, when he saved people, people rolled their eyes, sighed, or went, "Finally" like it was his job to do great things. But maybe, for Eriol, that was how things worked.

Meiling was staring at him, wide-eyed. "I didn't mean that, Harry. But this is Hiiragizawa. You know how he's like."

"He's not a murderer," he said hotly. "Whatever he is, he definitely isn't that."

"Oh? And who is this he we are talking about?"

Harry's head snapped up to lock eyes with a skull mask. There were three of them. That, or he was experiencing triple vision, but he was pretty sure there were three Death Eaters looming over them. Meiling was sitting next to him, white-faced. So apparently, he had spoken too loudly. Both of them had.

"Is this a Muggle?" said one of them. "What is a Muggle doing down here? Don't tell me the Light side has sunk so low as to hire them to fight us."

Harry scowled. "We won't tell you then." Then he jumped to his feet and dragged Meiling with him. "Let's go!" He tugged sharply and they were both fleeing.

"Lev–" began one.

Harry whirled around and, without bothering to aim, bellowed, "REDUCTO!"

Judging from the magnitude of the harsh yell that erupted afterwards, his spell must have hit. Then suddenly, Harry felt a weight dragging him down. He looked to see Meiling lagging behind and tugging her forearm away from his grip.

"I-I can't..."

He tightened his grip and pulled her back up, but Meiling could hardly open her eyes. "Wake up, Meiling! This isn't the time! WAKE UP!"

There was raucous laughter. "You see what happens when you depend on Muggles? They sink you down with them." The three Death Eaters came closer and watched with coarse pleasure as he struggled with Meiling's lump of a body.

"Crucio!"

Harry hurled Meiling's body against the wall where she sagged down unconscious. He ducked the other curse that came their way, and then he rushed to Meiling's side to pull her up again. But unconscious people weighed a lot more than conscious ones, and he found himself only capable of holding her upper body for a second before collapsing.

They were laughing at him again. What a scene he was making. He should feel foolish, embarrassed-

Honestly, who had time to feel all that? Harry threw out a few Stunning Spells before turning back to cast a light weight charm on Meiling. He grabbed her from under her arms and heaved her up. There! That's better! "H-Harry?" she said blearily, opening her eyes a crack. "What..."

"Can you stand?" he asked before pushing them down to avoid more spells. Then he yelled out a Stinging Hex and then threw out a shield to collide with the Imperius Curse. They were coming closer. Taking their own sweet time since they noticed how Harry's situation was futile.

"M-Maybe," she whispered. "I feel... warm..." She was pressing a fist against the base of her throat, around her collar bone, as if the warmth emanated from there. "I-I'm sorry, Harry..."

She was saying sorry? Harry stared at her, incredulous, as he heaved her halfway onto his back. Was she nuts? Just as he had her on his back, a spell came flying at them that he had to drop her again and throw himself aside to avoid it. "Brilliant," he growled, blinking back tears of frustration. "Just brilliant."

Meiling looked like she was going to sob too, but the drowsy state she was in wiped her of that strength. "I'm sorry," she repeated, breathing hard. "'Bout what I said. You know him better than any of us in only a few months." Her eyes closed. "He'd never betray us."

Then to exacerbate his predicament, she fell unconscious again. At least, when he felt her pulse, he knew she was unconscious and not dead- something he didn't want to contemplate for too long. He got up and assumed a dueling stance, determined to stall for as long as possible.

The first Death Eater cast out, "Crucio!" Oh, they never lacked imagination.

"Protego!" he shot back.

With the same creative quality, the others cast the same curse, and he ducked and pushed Meiling aside to get away from them. But three against one? Who was he kidding? Just as he rolled away from another curse, they cursed him again as he was recovering. His recovery time was becoming significantly slower; he knew this because the light of the spell grazed him, burning as it went. Another spell consecutively followed; it was a green spell zooming his way, and he meekly thought, Eriol's help would be much appreciated right now.

He dove out of the way but knew it was too late. It'll hit his lower torso, around his hip area. Green was for the Killing Curse, wasn't it? He'll die then. There was a spark of light. Then there was a silence in his ears. This must be death. Away from all sound. Heaven? Was this-

He was pretty sure he wasn't dead.

As sound returned, he opened an eye. Then both snapped open and widened.

The flat side of a gleaming silver sword was right in front of him; light playing on the steel streaking across his vision.

Nervously, he looked over to see the wielder, and there she was. Meiling was leaning against the wall, her back slumped over and her legs sprawled out, but her arm was outstretched and clutching the black and silver handle grip of the sword. There were long red strings draping over her forearm and a black opal dangling from it. Harry had only seen this sword once before, and it was in the very cavern where a battle was taking place.

On cue, Eriol's sorcerer eyes swam to the forefront of his vision, and he saw the difference even more clearly than before.

With her head bowed, she opened her eyes- a black hue. Her entire body was shimmering with ghostly light. A hand layered over her own clutched the sword before it sunk in and became a glossy overlay. A smirk stretched her lips. A confident, cool smirk.

And in front of her, him, whatever- three stunned Death Eaters stood like miniscule, black bowling pins between the huge front claws of a gigantic snarling wolf. Syaoran's wolf god.

He guessed Meiling had something going with the whole "sacred stories" thing. After all, Li Xiang just possessed her.

---

Keroberos inwardly breathed a sigh of relief when Spinel Sun brought him to a statue-still Ruby Moon. Both were overlooking the battle in one of the larger rooms, and after a few minutes of standing beside them without a word being exchanged, Kero realized that they weren't fighting. Thank goodness. If he accidentally lost to Spinel Sun, the panther would never let him live it down. Not that he would. Lose, of course. Keroberos, lose to Spinel Sun? Never.

"Why don't he just let me rip him to shreds?" Ruby Moon hissed. Her stony demeanor suddenly was very apparent to Keroberos, and he could almost see the steam hissing out of her ears. She really was mad. In both definitions.

"It won't work that way," Spinel Sun calmly replied.

Calm? Like hell. Keroberos never saw a tenser cat. Why the hell was he brought up here? He could be doing something useful down there. Like showing the rest of those hybrids who's boss. If Spinel Sun didn't set them all on him of course.

He watched the Matthews squad running into battle, signaling something and yelling something. They looked panicked, confused. Perking his ears forward, he listened.

The sorceress was yelling, tears in her eyes, "The prisoners! They're gone! All of them!"

Light warriors were being distracted, trying to ask, "What if there weren't any in the first place?"

But between the messages, there definitely had been prisoners. Bowls of half-eaten food. Skin and blood residue. Torn clothing. It looked as if they were rounded up quickly and taken away. But all the prison gates were still locked. That was the mystery.

The messages were cut short when Light warriors paid dearly for their inattention and were killed or maimed. Keroberos grew frantic. He leaped onto the railing and was ready to spread his wings. "What the hell am I doing here? I have to help those brats!"

An arm and hand came out of nowhere and was thrust across his vision, preventing any further movement from him. Ruby Moon didn't even look at him. Spinel Sun, though, said, "We brought you up here to keep you out of the way."

"What?" he cried. "Look at all those people dying!" He felt the magic of the two guardians begin to wrap around him. Dammit! He should have sprung before they could do that. Now their auras were keeping him captive. He can't fight two of them at once. Where the hell was Yue when he needed him?

He pushed that thought back when he realized Yue could be in an even worse position. Sakura included. He settled on giving his most ferocious glare at the two darker guardians. They were unaffected.

"Our orders," the black cat simply said.

Which brought Keroberos into a roaring fury. "ORDERS? FROM WHO?"

Both guardians turned to look at him, identical, cold, wretched expressions. "Our master. Who do you think?" said Ruby Moon.

Keroberos sat back on his haunches, dumbfounded and captive. What kind of miserable trick was this?

---

"We're here."

Tomoyo's eyes snapped up to see Draco tapping on a stone wall with his wand. He was pushing one of the large square stones, and it moved in with a slight groan and scraping of rough texture against each other. It moved in and out the other side where there was light. Outside? Her eyes greedily drank in the streaks of yellow light peeking through the crack.

Then Draco said, "We're in the upper levels, I think."

"Outside?" she asked hopefully.

"No, not yet," was the hesitant reply. "We have to get past two more corridors, and then there will be stairs to an exit. But we have to be careful." He shot her a serious look, and she nodded. She knew caution. She exercised it all the time with her video camera back in the old days. Every experience counted, right?

He crept out first. The light she had drunk in so gratefully before turned out to be a normal torchlight balanced on tiptoe on a platform. Its brightness singlehandedly lit the entire hallway– maybe the brilliance got thinner the further they went, but light was only a tool, not a luxury. It was decidedly warmer in the hallway, especially after Draco replaced the stone into its little niche, closing up the drafts of cooler air.

"How did you come by this way?" Tomoyo wondered softly.

"Crabbe, Goyle, they showed me around a bit." He left out the fact that he bullied them into it.

Suddenly, a shudder ran through the floor of the hallway and shook the walls. Both of them lost balance and had to grip the stone tiles to keep from falling over. They stared at each other, wide-eyed with fear. Then there was a loud thundering sound below them that vibrated the stones and made the torchlight dance a little. It was the thundering sound of a large structure breaking. A great crash of a stone column.

They heard voices. Thousands of voices echoing through halls and through the stones. It became apparent to both of them that they knelt above a huge fight, and that the fight was expanding.

Another tremble of power thrilled through the walls of their corridor. This time, they took it as a warning signal and ran. They ran, one after another, down the long hallway, hearing along with their loud thundering footsteps the sound of their blood pounding in their ears. If the entire place collapsed while they were in it...

"This way! This way!"

They looked up and saw that it wasn't either of them who said it. In the next corridor, after a corner, there were people, and from the sounds of the many feet, lots of people.

Then there was an anguished cry. The sound of it chilled their bones. Because that could mean torture, injury, or fighting. None of the choices appealed to them, and if anything, it frightened them even more. Neither of them were battle-hardened warriors, and they never felt the inadequacy so poignantly before.

"Get up, Severus!" someone cried. "We haven't the time! We have to check the next level and secure the exits!"

A familiar voice grated their ears with its harsh-sounding clarity, "Then go, you imbecile! The Dark Lord is tracking us through me–" There was another furious silence and they heard a thump.

Draco rushed forward to the very corner and peered over to search for his teacher. The Potions Master was leaning against the wall and clutching his forearm, bared for all to see the ugly mark. His nails dug in far enough to release blood that trailed down to his hand. He opened his eyes and glared at the men still standing around him. They were Light Warriors who wore strips of white cloth tied around their left biceps.

Professor Snape bellowed at them, "WELL, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? GET ON WITH IT!" He successfully shocked the men into action because the next thing they did was dash down the hall, away from Tomoyo and Draco.

Draco was drumming his fingers, waiting for the last of them to disappear to the stairs. Then, he immediately ran out into the open with Tomoyo close behind.

Professor Snape nearly had a cardiac arrest at the sight of them. "Malfoy!" he gasped. "Daidouji! What the HELL–"

"Silencio!" Draco cast immediately. Then realizing what he just did, which was that he just spelled his teacher silent, his face dropped with horror. He tried to explain to the large-nosed, furious face, "I have to. We can't risk it. Being seen or heard." He quickly took off the Silencing Spell, though. Both of them were at his side, helping him sit down, when he snapped at them, "Are you just trying to die?"

Neither of them answered as Draco handed his wand to Tomoyo who used it successfully to scan their Potions Professor's state of health though the man protested in quiet hissing voices at the impropriety of their conduct. Then Tomoyo pried his fingers and his nails away from the bloodied Dark Mark etched on his arm. She pressed on the tattoo and their teacher threw his head back, hitting the wall, and grinded his teeth together in pain.

"Get away, you two. You'll be found if you stay near me," he hissed. A rush of expletives exited his mouth when Tomoyo began assessing the damage.

She looked at Draco. "I can't do anything because the pain is through the Mark. The only thing I can do is wrap up the wound so to stop the bleeding. I just need something, a long strip of cloth, anything to transfigure so I can–"

Draco began taking off his outer button-up shirt. He grew frustrated when he couldn't take the buttons out fast enough that he ripped the rest off with buttons popping off. He muttered to himself, "Awful brand. No magical security for the buttons." He was left wearing his thin undershirt.

"Which is convenient," Tomoyo added, taking the tattered shirt. She began tearing off the arm; then she tapped it with Draco's wand and watched it lengthen and iron out into a simple white cloth. She waved his wand again to dampen the cloth so she could begin wiping away the blood.

Snape watched the two in hazy consciousness and endless fascination, but the cool wet cloth made him hiss in pain and forget how dire the situation was. He remembered something about danger, tracking, and betrayal. Oh, yes, the Dark Lord will know about his betrayal, and he will be found.

Like now.

A shadow fell on the three, and Tomoyo and a wary Draco looked up from their work. To their growing dread, Lucius Malfoy stood over them, and behind him was a band of Death Eaters, unmasked, sneering, and jeering.

"To see my only son behaving like a common mongrel. To say I am utterly disgusted is a profound understatement."

---

The moment Syaoran took out his sword, people remembered what power the boy leader held at his fingertips. While they didn't understand the situation between him and the Blue Magician, they understood the meaning of "take cover" when there was a big fight to be had.

Running should have been foremost in their thoughts; for when two powerhouses fought, they cared very little for their surroundings (unless one was Sakura).

Eriol raised his hand, and his staff glowed. The entire hallway suddenly began to move like a concave mirror stretching and bending except the illusion was real. The walls began to pulse in and out, and the floor started to roll under their feet. Eriol began to shrink into the distance.

But Syaoran knew better. He made a swipe with his sword and let it slam into the ground, breaking stone. There was a sharp cracking sound, like thunder, and then a wash of visible air bursting like a rapidly growing air bubble that zoomed to the four corners of the hallway and held the moving walls back into place.

And before the shifting and moving stopped, Syaoran was already running towards Eriol. At the last moment though, he snapped out of sight. Both of them did. They reappeared a ways closer, sword hitting staff with a loud clang!

When Eriol had told Syaoran that he used to take up the sword, he proved as good as his word, except he used a staff just as skillfully. The heavy ornaments on top of the staff should have unbalanced the weapon and made it only useful for magic, but instead, it saw otherwise. The staff was lightweight; the ornaments were magicked. When they clashed weapons, Eriol spun his staff and locked Syaoran's sword between the sun's rays.

In that instant, Syaoran slapped out an ofuda onto the air and fire blazed up from the sword. The heat made Eriol raise his free hand over his face, but as for Syaoran, he didn't move and stared fiercely into his rival's face. Then in a swift move, he loosened his hold on the sword and allowed it out of the chink between the sun's rays. As he started to pull it out though, Eriol smiled. The fire began to crackle strangely, and it became silent. Ice froze over the heat.

With his sword iced over and frozen with Eriol's staff, their weapons were pretty much locked together. And just before Syaoran could blast the two apart, Eriol snapped his fingers and did the work for him. A little explosion of shattering ice and blasts of air broke the two weapons apart, and Syaoran whirled away while shielding his face from the ice shards.

It was so easy before to think that though Eriol loved planning, loved having his fun, that he'll do whatever that will aid their side. The Light side. He didn't realize the half-reincarnation would go this far, though, and maybe his plan to join the Dark side would help their side in the long run, but it was a choice that was among many other far better options and that involved killing of hundreds. He thought Eriol could dream up of better plans than that. Apparently he was wrong. It was practically unforgivable how wrong he was.

Little dark rivulets of water, shadowed from the torchlights, flowed towards Syaoran from Eriol's staff. They combined into one stream that wrapped itself around his ankles. Eriol never seemed to stop with playing, and just from one glance, Syaoran could tell he enjoyed the little tricks and games too. The dangers of fighting someone far more experienced and especially someone who never took fights seriously.

But that didn't mean he was going to give up. Play to his strengths, he was always taught. Practice on your weaknesses, but in real battle, play to your strengths. If Eriol wasn't going to take him seriously, he will.

He slipped another ofuda between his fingers and held it up. He didn't even need to say the words anymore, since the strength of conviction was enough just from his mind. Lightning enveloped him and zipped through the streams of water. Just before the electric current could connect with Eriol's metal rod, he lifted it and let the current ground itself.

Syaoran ran at Eriol again and began hacking away with twists and turns. His sword came down, clang!-ed with the cylindrical metal, slipped off; then he made angled swipes that Eriol blocked with a slight turn of his staff. Just as they clashed again and Syaoran slid the blade off at an angle, making the shiing! noise of a blade sharpening itself on metal, he fluidly fell to a crouch and tried to get a hit at the kneecaps. However, Eriol expected it and with only little maneuvers of his staff, he blocked all of his hits.

"How is it?" Eriol asked when they stepped away from their little round. He bent a little at the knees and then tossed up his entire golden staff into the air, sun, moon, and all. It came back down as a gleaming golden sword. "Be easy on me. It's been a while."

Syaoran was through talking though; his entire attention focused on movements, on anticipation, on their fight. If he thought about what they were doing, he'd get confused. He'd lose focus. So all those thoughts flew to the back of his mind.

They clashed swords now. No matter how long ago Eriol may have last taken up a sword, he proved that his skill did not wane over time and that he may have been secretly practicing. Nevertheless, Syaoran swung back, spun his sword, and let the blade make an underside hit that was also blocked, but then he released the pent-up energy created from the momentum and broke through Eriol's stance. Eriol had to step back so the tip of the sword didn't slice his chin.

"How is it?" Eriol repeated, smiling. He retreated a few steps and leaned the sword against his hip. Then he took off his glasses and began cleaning it with his sleeve. His relaxed expression never faltered.

Finally in that brief period, Syaoran sharply replied, "How is what?"

Eriol smirked. He put his glasses back on and took up his sword again. He moved his body into an invitation stance, and of course, Syaoran accepted it. The boy darted forward, dragging his sword an inch above the ground and letting his magic crush the stone along its path. Then a few feet before he hit Eriol, he lifted the sword and sent it crashing down to his opponent's ready parry. But all of the sudden, his control somehow slipped, or more like that no matter how hard and straight and true he aimed, the sword deflected, not off a shield or anything, but the blade turned and went off to the side, not even touching Eriol's sword. Like a charged rod repelling water.

Their eyes met. Both knew that wasn't a slip of his hand. Gritting his teeth, Syaoran tried again. He tried to swipe at Eriol, but the sword suddenly had a mind of its own. Straight or focused no longer held true for his aim. The sword liked angles, curves, swoops. After a few attempts, he leaped back and stared at the black sword in his hand.

He understood the same moment Eriol said amusedly, "How is my sword?"

Without saying a word about that personal betrayal, Syaoran balanced the sword straight up on the tips of his index and middle fingers. Then raising his eyes from the metal to meet glittering, dark blue eyes, he watched the light of angry fire play on his opponent's face. The sword had went up into flames.

He tipped his index finger and let the encased melting sword spill to the ground.

Sword or no sword, he could still fight.

Under his feet, the ground quaked, and around them, the walls trembled flimsily as if they were about to break, which they were. His family finally tore down all the barriers and were now dissembling the walls.

Syaoran slammed his palm into the ground and with it, a smash of his aura that leveled the entire hallway, and judging from the growing jagged cracks, it went into other rooms and halls. Slabs of stone were raised and separated. Eriol had to jump away from the breakage.

But that split second was Eriol's moment of disorientation, his millisecond flash of humanity, and Syaoran seized the chance. Teleporting himself forward, he met the blue-haired magician nose on, and the other boy swung his sword that turned back into his golden staff and with both hands held it in a front block. Both of Syaoran's hands were outstretched before him, gripping that staff and trying to twist it from Eriol's grasp. A stupid move on the outside, but one that would provide more distraction. Enough for him to ask...

"What the hell is motivating you, Hiiragizawa? Why did you do that to Potter? Why did you release those spirits to swallow so many people?" He gritted his teeth and held strong. Surely Eriol didn't have this much strength in his thin arms, but of course, his magic made up for any physical weaknesses.

Eriol raised his eyes to meet his. His face was eerily calm. There wasn't even any determination in them. Just a calmness, an acceptance. "You were always bright, Li Xiao Lang. Open your eyes. Forget your righteous anger."

And Syaoran did. He slipped fully into his second vision, letting the thousands of colors filter in and make their places in his surroundings, and then he saw what Eriol had been waiting for him to see.

Black-blue lines, like bruises, clung to Eriol, tied to every limb of his body, every facet and tendril of his aura. An aura that seeped away and back. Those dark strings trailed away from him , going through walls and doors, barrier after barrier, to an ominous source that Syaoran could not see, but could guess at.

"Voldemort has you," he said, understanding. A strong pang of pity hit him. Guilt washed over him. This wasn't his place. He shouldn't be here-

A warmth seeped into Eriol's face, a pleased sort of gratitude in his expression. It curved the sharpness and patted out the creases; a strange fondness in those dark eyes. It was in that moment though that Syaoran witnessed something that he would never forget for the rest of his life. Eriol's smile. But it wasn't just any smile, for he had many, but this time, it was a true smile. All that kindness and fondness directed at him.

It froze his moments and made him doubt every conviction he had.

---

Gone was Meiling's usually feral red eyes, and in their place was the black eyes of Xiang's, associated with melting opals, a deep-seated empathy. Xiang swung his sword high over the Death Eaters that stood over them, and they cowered down expecting to be hit. In that moment of vulnerability, Xiang locked eyes with the hovering wolf god. The god's lips split wide into a teeth-baring grin. He lifted his front paw and sent it crashing down, igniting a visible fire to all, and smashed it into the Death Eaters. Nothing was left but charred remains.

Xiang looked back at him and smiled, so very different from Meiling's smiles that it looked strange on her. "Stay back and keep low," he said in a deep, resonating voice. Then shifting back into a stance, familiar in its openness, he leaped into battle.

Harry didn't know Xiang very well, and had only seen him a few times, including the duel, but nevertheless, Xiang treated Harry like a guard would a royalty. And Harry understood later, remembering Eriol's laughing comments about how Xiang pretty much worshipped Clow Reed and the Card Mistress, two powerhouses of nature.

Everyone noticed the arrival of a sorcerer. Especially a supposedly taken one. Taken as in 'by the gods' taken. No longer corporeal, maybe past the Death God's gate. Like in another plane of existence. And of course every sorcerer remembered him. Li Xiang.

They didn't see him, but they felt him. They felt his beat in the cavern they fought in. For it was not their battlefield, but his. His and Syaoran's alone. Maybe it was the fact that they dared bloody the site of his last duel that brought him back. Or maybe it was the cruel intention of murderous men about to hurt someone fiercely dear to him that brought him back. It could be both.

The fact was: he was back, but in Meiling's body.

Right now, the spirit was executing moves with his sword that Meiling's slim, frail form could never possibly hope to manage without his help. He joined the league of Light warriors and spoke in a deep, echoing voice that led wizard and sorcerer alike to understand the situation of the Li girl. That she evoked some spirit somewhere and allowed him use of her body.

And men rushed at him, and whenever that happened, he would look over, raise his hand, and signal the unseen god. Then the wolf would leap out from behind or from wherever he was at and attack. One time, he howled. A sideways tornado of air caught the limbs of the enemies and hurled them against the rock towers. The howl was heard by all, and soon everyone, not just the sorcerers, knew that Xiang wasn't fighting alone.

And Harry, as he rushed for cover, learned something. He understood possession from the one time he was taken by the ancient Clow and that using magic under possession caused bodily damage, but Xiang, when he possessed Meiling, did not use magic and only fought with his limbs and sword, an extension of his limb. Magic did come from the wolf god though, a god that Xiang somehow controlled with his bare thoughts.

Suddenly, Xiang-Meiling was standing in front of him again, on top of the boulder he was crouched behind. Harry stared up at the suddenly strange figure of the girl who tried to tutor him these past few weeks, now the boy who was such a popular figure in the sorcerer community. Covering them was the wolf god. Xiang knelt on one knee, the sword in the opposite hand. "When I say so, run and I will cover for you."

Harry slowly stood. "Run? To where?"

Meiling's lips set in a grim line. "He holds you through the scar. Follow that connection."

It was only until Xiang pointed out to him the connection that he saw it. Dark strands flowing from his forehead into the dark corridors that he once ran down with Meiling but only to turn back to the cavern. He tried to touch them, but they weren't corporeal. His fingers passed through, but he felt the connection inside of him. A black gasping wound, one that Eriol pointed out to him long ago. A wound that Voldemort entered through to steal, to mock, to devastate.

"And I should follow this...?" Harry looked up questioningly.

A wicked smile on those lips. "I have a deep respect for Clow Reed, but my respect for Hiiragizawa Eriol is much greater," he said. Before he could say more, the fight came back to him, and jumping from the boulder, he began dancing with his sword again. Meiling's body started to swerve at odd angles but with such fluidity that could only be characteristic of a master of the Drunken Fist. Bodies fell, bloody and quickly going cold, and the cavern was losing the cacophony of sounds it was filled with earlier.

Hypnotized by the awkward yet curiously graceful dance, enough so that he didn't let his attention run over the dead bodies that resulted, Harry stepped forward, running the boy's words over and over in his mind. He couldn't go yet. Running off to where? Oh, he had his guesses. He had a foretelling feeling. But as he watched the body of Meiling take on Death Eaters twice her size, as he watched the prowess of a wolf overtake the entire arena, he held himself back. He needed one last confirmation. One last–

Black eyes snapped back to him over a thin shoulder. Xiang yelled, "Hurry! He's waiting for you!"

And Harry leaped over the boulder and ran, following the strings of darkness that poured from his scar.

---

Lucius Malfoy looked at them with malice in his eyes, even at his own son who was regarded with cold indifference and painfully sound un-recognition. Tomoyo felt her blood run cold at the terrible efficiency that Malfoy Sr. controlled himself and led the others.

"Severus, Severus, Severus. How disappointed I am in both you and Draco, though I believe you have been doing this longer. Much longer than anyone here would know, unfortunately." Lucius smiled. "I do wonder just when did you switch, though. Was it when you tortured and beheaded that Muggle lady? The beautiful one with those lovely golden locks and pale and creamy skin?" His eyes locked onto Tomoyo's frame. "Most unfortunately, but if you had cared to look, the wizard population produces its own beauties."

Draco did not hide the disgust at the way his father looked at the Daidouji girl–so obviously too but maybe it was meant as a demonstration. However, shock took over when the girl's eyes snapped up and met the blonde man's and her lips curved into a smirk.

"Sir, I'm Muggleborn," she said, her demeanor and voice entirely transformed. Tomoyo remembered lying under the Illusion Card and watching this man think he was pouring all of his raw hate and lust into the Cruciatus he cast on her, and that act itself was enough for her to forego her compassion. It was unlucky that he was also Draco's negligent, abusive father.

"In my old school," she said. "Everyone's Muggleborn. Now, there are men and women down there–" She pointed at the floor. "–who are sorcerers. Who are Purebloods. Who are spirits. Who are gods. Who are magical creatures."

Her smirk grew. "And your Lord?" She gave an exaggerated shrug and tossed her hair back, away from her face. "Well, he's an accident."

Lucius's lips upturned halfway. "I don't believe you know what you're talking about, child."

"No, she knows better," Draco suddenly said, stepping up. "You have no idea, father, what this sorcerer business is all about. You think the Light side just found a group of powerful wizards and employed them." He was delighted at the fury in his father's expression. Fury for mocking him. He almost laughed. "This war we're having–" he leaned in close as if to tell a secret to those present. A few of the Death Eaters actually leaned towards him with ready ears. "This war didn't start over prejudices and racism. It was started by individuals."

He held up one finger. "A cretin who started an empire to pursue his own selfish ideas and then reincarnated himself."

He held up a second finger. "A second half-wit who had his own opposing selfish ideas and reincarnated himself to continue his plans."

He held up a third finger. "And stupidly reincarnated himself again. Your Lord is the product of those three."

Lucius stared at him for a long moment as Draco decided to wait it out. The man backed up and laughed loudly. "The fool knows no better than anybody else." He held up his wand, and said, "I might as well dispose of you three. You're wasting my time."

The torchlights flared and lit up dark places and unveiled the mysteries waiting in them. There were rows and rows of cages around them that only when the lights brightened did they lift the illusion. And in the cages were the many beasts and monsters, their glowing red eyes gazing hungrily out of the cage. Like lifting a curtain off of them, the sound barrier was lifted and soon the groups were awashed in a sea of panting, growling, scraping, gnawing... It rose and rose...

"Wonderful, father," Draco said, reaching the end of his patience. "I was waiting for something silly like this to happen. Because I knew you wouldn't want to tarnish the family's name by killing your own son yourself. Isn't that unforgivable in the Malfoy family line? The highest act of dishonor?" He learned that there were many unforgivable acts– many decent rules. Codes of respect and manners. A sore regret grew inside of him. The Malfoy family line could have flourished under someone better; it would have grown as powerful, if not more, as the Li family. Seeing the Li family at their main house made him see that resemblance, that what-could-have-been.

But it was too late. No one could restore the Malfoy line to the upstanding position it was made for.

He reached deep in to his pocket and pulled out a switchknife with a casual grace of someone who'd been practicing.

Then, ignoring the gasps of horror from Daidouji and focusing only on the chilly gaze of Lucius Malfoy, he slashed both his wrists, tossing the blade between grips.

He stepped back and held his wrists to face forward, to show his father the deep cuts and the blood steadily gushing out. "You had so many lectures about upholding the reputation of the Malfoy name." Blood was dripping on the floor. "Look, father, I'm fucking saving it now."

At that moment, the present delirious Snape looked on with growing dread and realization. His heart skipped a beat, two beats, three. And black lines were writing themselves across Draco's pale perfect skin. Ugly black lines, symbols of a Dark ritual. When the black lines began writhing and curling, Snape knew for sure.

That brat made himself a Human Portkey.

---

Time slowed for Syaoran. He could not fight anymore. It wasn't the lack of strength, energy, or magical reserve because gods know that he could do far more than this playtime with Eriol. But knowing how captive Eriol was at the moment, how controlled, how much of a puppet he was as he was a puppet master, Syaoran could not find any dignified reason to continue his agenda of 'beat-the-crap-out-of-traitors.'

And Eriol knew about his diminishing resolve. The glitter in his dark eyes let Syaoran himself know.

"What will you do now?" he asked. The audience around them had scattered and become none. Under orders, they left to backup other squads stuck in their own battles. It was just him and Eriol now. As preferred.

Eriol smirked at his question. "We're still in a war."

"Will you still–" Syaoran stopped himself. It was a stupid question. Under Voldemort's control, Eriol could do nothing else but fight against the Light side.

Suddenly, Eriol was face-to-face with him. His eyes were wide and serious. "How much do you want this to end?" He gestured to the sounds of battle and death that echoed through the walls. "To what lengths would you go to end this silly war and begin building the sorcerer-wizard relations?"

Eriol released him from his piercing eye-lock. He stepped back and spread open his arms, making a silent point that Syaoran had yet to grasp. "The field is set for you. The walls will fall soon."

He turned around and began walking away, looking for all the world the victor of their battle when it was never even concluded. Syaoran stared at his empty weaponless hands. "Are you going to him?" he asked.

The blue-haired boy looked back and smiled. "He's calling for me." The unsaid words were clear between them, as they always were. Voldemort had need of Eriol. Eriol never had and never would have need of Voldemort. Such an unequal relationship would not last very long. Especially if Harry was added to the mix. The boy will tip the unbalance far enough to break the scale.

Before Eriol left the room, he bent down and picked up a slab of stone. He turned around and threw it at Syaoran who caught it in his fist. It was a flat pebble where the edges curved into a sharp point, perfect for a spearhead. Eriol faced Syaoran and stood there, not yet leaving. "Where is Sakura?" he taunted. "Why aren't you protecting her? Why isn't she standing in a safe place, watching the proceedings, and lending her magic where it is needed?"

"Hiiragizawa..." Syaoran's eyes flashed warningly.

But Eriol wasn't done. "She is becoming like a goddess, my cute descendant. If you aren't careful, her skin will slip through your fingers and she'll become nothing but an entity of magic. Hold on to her. Keep her grounded. She died for the treaty, and I saved her from that. I do not want my work wasted."

Eriol turned around again and walked over the cracks in the floor and the uneven stone. He opened the door and looked back over his shoulder, his mischievous eyes glinting in the torchlight.

"By the way, doesn't the Death God owe you a favor?" He eyes meaningfully glanced at the stone in Syaoran's hand, and then he turned and left, the door swinging closed behind him.

---

Somewhere, someplace relatively unknown, in a room filled with darkness and light, in a neverending combat for territory, a hand wandered. A young, clean hand. Its fingers were splayed out, but then they relaxed their position. The wrist traveled over air. As it passed, long, pink cards appeared, one by one. Finally, the hand stopped on one called Through and another called Shield.

As the two fingers touched each of the cards, dozens more appeared spread out over the air. But it was not the entire deck. Gone from the numerous Sakura Cards were the Mirror, the Dream, the Move, and the Illusion.

Nevertheless, the fingers pressed slightly harder, and the targeted cards glowed and activated.

---

No one recognized the lady with the beautiful long red hair and lovely dark eyes. The lady walked in heels and was dressed in a Muggle suit and skirt, and so she stood out of place with the rest of them. Her cleanliness and glossy hair compared to their scraggy clothes worn a few days straight for sake of working and cleaning, it was so obvious that she didn't belong. Thus so, security was called and warriors were trooping after her, but she glided away, fluidly and easily. For some reason they couldn't reach her. Then they concluded that she must be one of them. Them being the sorcerers. Anomalies like that were attributed to those strange Asian people.

Left alone for the time being, she entered the hospital tents where all the nurses and attendants and patients alike froze at her sudden arrival. She went past a few beds and stopped at one where a little Asian boy was nursing his elbow, his bottom lip jutting out at the effort. There was a couple sitting with him, looking lost and morose.

"Li Mao Kang," she said.

The boy looked up curiously. "Huh? Oh, you. I see you before." The couple looked at her too. The girl with the thick curly hair had intelligent eyes; the boy just looked lost.

"I'm sorry," the lady said. "I am Miss Mizuki. And you two are..."

"Hermione Granger," the girl said. "And this is Ron Weasley."

"You found Mao Kang in the forest?" Miss Mizuki asked.

The two looked at each other and then nodded hesitantly. "Yes, but he was taken there, doing something with Malfoy. I don't know what–"

Miss Mizuki just smiled, and it was such a lovely smile that it stopped the girl's train of words.

"No one here knows where the Light army went," she said and then looked pointedly at Mao Kang. "Except you. I received a call that White Bird had gone still and he was exhibiting all the signs of a called spirit. He is protecting someone at this current battle, isn't he, Mao Kang?"

The boy was just gaping. She took that as a yes.

"If so, then I need to use you and your connection to White Bird to head there." She laid a hand on the boy's head just as he nodded meekly. He knew when to shut up. And when he was being confronted by a really smart, beautiful lady, that was a definite time to shut up.

Hermione and Ron were standing up. Ron said, "Wait, you're going there? Take us too! Our best friend is there. At least, we're pretty sure he is!"

Miss Mizuki just said, "He is probably already taken care of. As for this, I am under orders to arrive at the battle." Light glowed from between her hand and Mao Kang's dark head of hair.

"Whose orders?" Hermione cried, ready to grab onto the lady.

Gentle, hazel eyes locked with the young girl's. "The Blue Magician's."

---

It felt like a hurricane was overtaking the room. The wind was screaming in his ears, and dust and debris were being whipped around, stinging the skin of his face and arms as they went. The little pebble fell from his hand as he stared down at his work. The lines of the characters calling for the Death God was carved into one of the slabs of stone that was mostly in one piece.

He stepped back and closed his eyes. The gate was opening, a black wormhole that sucked in light, ate it like a starved caterpillar. The torchlights just flicked out; magical or not, in this presence, no light would be able to stand against it. The oppressive black force thundered the room and weighed the air. He felt his breathing grow heavy, and his movements slow, like he was moving in water.

But then he raised his hands to shoulder height that resembled an act of supplication. Then gathering the last of his aura and magical reserve, he sent it out in the strongest possible shield around the room that he could manage. He didn't remember anything after that last part. He didn't expect to. The last thing he saw was a black silhouette reaching for him.

---

Everyone and everything within the caves felt it.

The Death God had come a-howling.

---

TO BE CONTINUED...