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I have never, do not and never will own Harry Potter.

Sorry about the wait lads, life has been busy. Thanks for all the follows, favourites and reviews, both kind and unkind. A special thanks to those who reached out in private messages and even through reddit to wish me well with the army and encourage me to keep going with the story. (It worked, this chapter is a product of some excellently done guilt-tripping from you guys)

I started this fanfiction when covid was in full swing, and I was in lockdown. I was a lonely teenager and I didn't like who I was. Writing this fanfiction was my outlet for all of those emotions. I'm past all of that now and I'm happy with my life, but looking back it's pretty obvious that Harrison is a projection of everything I wasn't put into a story. He's confident, he makes friends without trying, he's effortlessly good-looking, he's funny and he was free in all the ways I was not. There's nothing wrong with that, most fanfiction comes from the same place, but I'd like to thank you all for accepting it and liking it. I read every review, and every single one made me smile during a very dark time in my life. Now I'm past that edgy phase, you may notice Harrison becoming more human, deeper. This is because the way I was writing him before would make me cringe every time I touched the keyboard if I continued. He'll still be blatantly overpowered, chaotic and funny, but he will be a human too.

So in thanks for all of that, and in apology for the long wait, I've done some extra stuff. You may have noticed that the summary has been changed, because the last one was something I cooked up in about five minutes and is pretty crap (it had a spelling mistake!). Along with that comes a refresh of every chapter that should hopefully make it flow better and fix some mistakes I made.

Last of all, I left an extra little present at the bottom of the fic in the AN ;) guess you'll just have to read the fic to get to it. tee hee.

Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter 12: Ares

8th October 1995, 10:18 pm

Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London

Sirius watched as his new friend swore viciously, then turned to him, pale fire in his mercury eyes. He looked about ready to kill someone, the temperature noticeably dropping. Sirius was suddenly reminded that the man before him had single-handedly wiped out an entire pack of werewolves, and looked ready to do it again.

"Do you know who else has gone with the boy?" Slate asked, and Sirius didn't even think about withholding the information for a moment under that kind of scrutiny.

He shrugged helplessly. "Some of his friends, we had a letter sent to us by the Lovegood girl, apparently she's gone with him along with the rest of his defence club you started up for him."

"Fuck," Slate grunted. "Any idea who's been taken?"

"Hermione Granger," Sirius said flatly.

"Hermione?" Tonks piped up worriedly. Sirius knew the two of them had become fast friends over the summer, he liked the girl himself. "How—?"

"—We don't know," Sirius said grimly, "but Harry needs our help, and he needs it fast. You two coming along?"

"Of course," Slate and Tonks said at the same time. "You're coming?" Tonks continued in surprise.

"You got a problem with that?" Sirius challenged.

Tonks shook her head. "No, but—"

James' boy, trapped alone at the Ministry against that monster...

"—We don't have time for this!" Sirius said impatiently. "My godson is in trouble, we need to go. Now." He held his hand out to both of them, ready to apparate away to join the others at the Ministry.

Slate, who had been in deep contemplation up until that moment, snapped out of it and held his cousin's jaw delicately with a long-fingered hand as he gave her a quick but forceful kiss. Sirius watched them impatiently.

"Go with Sirius. I'll investigate what happened at Hogwarts. I'll join you lot later."

His cousin nodded, and Sirius was glad that Slate wasn't trying to protect Tonks from a fight. He knew her, knew she would never accept such a thing.

"I'll be back soon, and then we can continue where we left off, yeah?" Slate said with a flash of white teeth, teasing the open front of the shirt Tonks had borrowed with a single finger before vanishing from the house with nary a whisper.

He shouldn't have been able to do that, but Sirius didn't have the time to consider such things.

"Here," he tossed a whiplashed Tonks her enchanted jacket. "Get yourself buttoned up and grab your wand, we're leaving."

-oOo-

Harry arrived right outside the gate that marked the edge of the Hogwarts wards, placing his hand against the shield adorning the front. The Hogwarts crest glowed, and the gates opened with a creak, recognising him as staff. Harry stepped inside and immediately apparated again.

Apparating inside the boundaries of a ward was considerably easier than breaking through them. Technically still not supposed to be possible, but that had never stopped him before.

He arrived in his room and immediately got changed into battle dress. Mages in the current age didn't think much of it, but he considered going into battle without proper armour needlessly stupid. It had saved his life before. When he had tightened the last strap and taken a deep, calming breath to centre himself, he pushed out of his room into the castle proper.

The school was asleep, the only sound the snoring of the portraits and the squeal of metal as the occasional suit of armour saluted him as he walked quickly through the corridors. It came alive, though, when he crossed the threshold into the Gryffindor common room. Although it was late at night, most of the students appeared to have some idea that something was happening and had congregated to gossip about it.

"SILENCE!" Harry snapped, still standing in the open portrait-hole. The room did as it was told, pale faces all turning to him at once. "Where are the room-mates of Hermione Granger?"

Two girls, whom Harry recognised as Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, timidly raised their hands from where they sat in the centre of the maelstrom of gossip.

"Do either of you know what happened to her?"

They both shook their head rapidly.

"N-no professor," Lavender Brown said, who Harry remembered as being the more extroverted of the two. "She disappeared right after class, she—she didn't come back to the common room."

There was an undercurrent of murmurs around the room at that. No doubt the rumours had been spinning at a record pace for a while now.

"Does anyone else know anything?" Harry demanded.

Silence.

"Is she in trouble, sir?" Lavender asked fearfully.

He ignored her question. "Where's your room?" Harry asked the girls, who pointed at a door on the walkway on the second floor.

Harry turned and stalked towards it, feeling like Moses as the sea of red split before him. Just before the edge of the first walkway he rose in the air and floated unassisted to said balcony, stepping lightly over the railing to step gracefully onto the floor and ignoring the gasps behind him.

The door swung open and he ignored the wards designed to keep men out as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. For a moment he wondered how he would tell Hermione's bed apart from the rest, but that problem was solved as soon as he saw the pile of books covering every surface of the one closest to the toilet.

Striding over to it, Harry searched the bed for what he was looking for. He found it soon enough, a long strand of brunette hair that must have come loose during her sleep. Evidently, he needed to slot in the lesson about the dangers of leaving bits of yourself lying about and how to get rid of them. But for now, the laxness might just save her life.

Happy with the find, Harry placed it into a glass jar and left the room.

"Professor, what's going on?" A bold voice called from the silence as he walked through the group of children again.

Harry turned to see that it was Fay Dunbar who had spoken. Harry recalled that she was one of Hermione's very few close female friends.

He had never believed in mincing words when it came to those who were close to the endangered. Having been on the receiving end of such a tactic, he knew it was better to rip off the figurative band-aid now than to let worry fester later.

"Hermione has been kidnapped. Harry Potter and others, who I am sure you have noticed are also absent, have gone to retrieve her. Now, I'm on my way to get all of them back. Stay here, and don't endanger yourself."

He nodded at Dunbar, who looked as if she might faint, then left the common room, apparating back to his own room as soon as the portrait closed behind him.

Rifling through his drawers, he eventually found the sealed tube of Hyacinths under a stasis spell, the purple in the dense knot of flower petals just as vibrant as the day he had bought them from the apothecary.

Carefully, Harry wound the hair around the short stem of the plant and knotted it at the top, then smeared some of his blood over the entire thing to bind the tracker to himself.

Harry closed his eyes and clenched the crude creation in his fist, the petals turning the drops of blood dripping from between his fingers maroon. He began to whisper an incantation in Ancient Greek.

"Hyacinth, guide me to my lost love. I am no God but a mortal without you near, and without me there, I fear I may lose myself to madness. Zephyrus, Boreas, command the winds to find our heart."

All mythology tended to hold a grain of truth, where magic was concerned.

The Hyacinth crumbled to ashes in his palms, and from it a golden mist rose, twisting and swirling to flow out of his classroom door on an unseen wind.

The thickness of the tendril confirmed what he had suspected. Hermione was close. Within the castle or at least on the grounds.

He had half feared that Voldemort had gone through with taking one of Harry Jr's close acquaintances this time instead of faking it as he had with Sirius, but from the looks of things, his worst-case scenario had been proven wrong. A rare thing—normally the facts exceeded his estimation of how bad his luck would be. But Hogwarts wards would have detected a kidnapping, despite its Swiss-cheese level of security.

'Another thing I should have fixed instead of lazying about and romancing Tonks. But Goddammit if my timetable isn't full right now, and Goddammit if romancing Tonks isn't far more interesting.'

A patronus was cast with a flick of his hand as he followed the tendril, the tall thestral awaiting proudly for his command.

"Go to Sirius. Tell him I'll have the Granger girl and join him in the fight within the hour. Do be quick about it old chap." He would send it to Dumbledore, but the fuckers had timed it so he was in an ICW conference in Rome when they took her. He wasn't the only one with a loaded timetable. Dumbledore would probably end up arriving late, just like last time. It was funny, the things that stayed the same.

The thestral tossed its skeletal head arrogantly and disappeared through the wall to his left to find the headmaster.

For the next few minutes, the magical trail led him deeper and deeper into the bowels of the castle, into the dungeons. That all but confirmed that it was a Slytherin who had captured his old friend.

'Always a Slytherin. They complain all the time about how people assume they're the bad guys—then go do some bad guy stuff. You'd never see a Puff do this shit.'

He didn't slow his pace as he rounded the corner and found a seventh-year standing outside a door. The boy looked like he was about to piss his perfectly pressed trousers at the sight of him, but still stepped in front of the door as he approached.

"Sir, you can't go in this—"

"Out of the way, stupid boy," Harry snapped, stunning the kid before he could even react and shoving him out of the way with a push.

The door was flung open with a magic-assisted kick, revealing a room containing three more scared-shitless boys sitting in wooden chairs against each wall, one of which being Draco Malfoy.

Harry was disappointed. He didn't know why, but he had expected better from the little snot.

"Out," he said. "Now."

They stood, but none left. Instead, they held their wands in a shaky grip, looking frightened but determined.

Harry sighed. "Fighting it is, then."

The first to cast a spell was another seventh year. Harry pinched it out of existence with a thumb and a finger and stunned him, spun to dodge two more spells then snapped out a rope to grab a kid he recognised as a sixth-year Ravenclaw. The rope pulled on his wrist, sending him flying across the room to catch Malfoy's second stunner, who was then stunned also.

It was all done in less than three seconds.

"Waste of fucking sperm," Harry grumbled as he bound the four of them together. "And, even worse, a waste of my time."

Hermione was in the corner. She had been put to sleep and had her ankles bound along with her wrists behind her back. Harry woke her with an ennervate. Her eyes opened wide and she gasped into the gag secured around her mouth.

"You're safe," he said firmly. "The others are gone, but you're coming with me to the hospital wing, understood?"

Being kept docile by force of magic for prolonged periods could have negative effects upon a mage's brain if the caster wasn't careful or, like the schoolchildren he had just tied up, experienced enough. He had seen men turned brain-dead by an intentionally botched sleeping spell held too long.

She nodded.

"Good, now lets get rid of these," Harry tapped the gag and ropes with his wand, all of which fell away easily.

"Professor," she burst out as soon as the gag was released, "Harry! He doesn't know I'm here! He—"

"I know," Harry assured.

"We have to go and stop him!" Hermione cried.

"Yes, I do," Harry replied. "But not you. You will stay here, out of trouble."

She looked outraged. "But professor—"

"No," Harry said stoutly. "Children should not be fighting adult's battles, they should be learning. Your place is here. Where I'm going, you would only get in the way. Now come." He slapped a hand on her shoulder and apparated them both away.

Harry landed standing, Hermione landing on the bed in the same seated position she had been in on the floor just a moment before.

"Mr Slate, what on earth is the meaning of this?" Madam Pomfree exploded from her office in a flurry of perfectly pressed pale blue robes, her piercing blue eyes flicking between himself and Hermione.

"She's been held in a magical sleep for one, maybe two hours," Harry replied, making Pomfree's eyes immediately narrow as she entered healer mode. "The casters were children, I didn't trust they'd done it properly," he straightened his spine. Unconsciously, he filled his armour out and made himself taller, his features hardening into those of a warrior.

"I have to go," Harry said. "Take care of her. If I have my way, nobody else will be sent here tonight."

'At least, nobody innocent.'

And with that, he was gone from the room, leaving Madam Pomfree to tend to his friend, once upon a time.

-oOo-

Harry glared balefully at Bellatrix as Neville's cries echoed around the chamber they had run into.

They had done well until then. There had been a few very close calls, and Ginny had her ankle broken by a faceless Death eater, but they had managed to stay as a group as they had been taught in Defence Against the Dark Arts, with Ron, Neville and Luna playing to their strengths in defence and Ginny, the twins and himself going on the attack.

Professor Slate had shown him his strength privately, which he was glad for. He was significantly more powerful and in touch with his magic than his classmates, which allowed him to go for bigger and more powerful spells designed to overpower his opponent's defences. He had demonstrated this against a Death Eater when he, using a technique Professor Slate himself taught him, overpowered a shieldbreaker and followed up fluidly with a petrification hex. The spells had punched through the shield like it was paper.

Ginny had a different style. She cast rapidly, using many low-powered spells instead of his fewer higher-powered ones. The flurry of spells forced her opponents to either shield or try and dodge. The first would rapidly drain their strength and hamper their ability to move, the second would result in them being gradually taken down as they had their eyelashes lengthened, their speech garbled and were forced to tap-dance.

Fred and George were a terrifying pair to fight against, which Harry could attest to from personal experience. They worked—predictably—as a duo, seeming to share a brain as they fought. Harry saw Fred shield while George formed a spell that had coated an entire side of a room filled with planets in luminous pink paint that stuck to anyone that touched it and didn't let go. George hadn't even flinched when the spell had splashed against his brother's shield, having had complete confidence that Fred would protect him.

Predictably, many of their spells were their creations and fell on the humorous side of things even if they were effective. Dolohov was still having to tug his arms away from his luscious blonde curls, which had snaked down and attempted to restrain them. But the two of them had also shown a surprising repertoire of spells that were on the darker side of things. Harry had recognised one of them cast a spell that caused a silky black liquid to slither across the floor and attempt to suffocate one of the Death Eaters unsuccessfully, and another had cast a bone-breaker.

Hermione and Ron also normally fought as a pair. Ron wasn't as diverse with his spells but the ones he did have down were solid. He defended Hermione's back and threw a jinx when he had the opportunity while Hermione's wand moved in a blur, vomiting a rainbow of hexes, jinxes and curses at their opponents. But Hermione wasn't there. Instead, Ron fought with Luna, who was similar in style to Hermione with her Ravenclaw brains, her wand flicking through spells that Harry was half sure she made up on the spot.

He was proud of all of them.

Now, though, it seemed all of their improvement under Professor Slate's tuition had been for nothing. Bellatrix was holding Neville under the cruciatus, just as she had done to his parents before him. Harry wanted to tear at his hair and scream as he stood there, helpless. He had been so stupid, getting them all into this situation to chase a lie. Of course Hermione wasn't actually taken, Hogwarts was the safest place in the had led his friends and over half of what he considered to be his family here for nothing.

'Stupid stupid stupid,' a mean voice in his head mocked, 'you'll get them all killed for your mistakes. How long can you keep this up before one of them dies for you?'

"That was just a taster!" snarled Bellatrix, raising her wand so that Neville's screams stopped and he lay sobbing at her feet. She turned and gazed up at Harry. "Give us the prophecy NOW, Potter, or watch your little friend die the hard way!"

Neville was still writhing in pain that Harry could remember viscerally, but he still managed to twist his head to meet Harry's eyes. The message was clear.

'Don't.'

Harry wondered how anyone could ever have called Neville Longbottom a coward.

"Fine then, catch!" He yelled, tossing the orb at Bellatrix with a quick overarm throw.

Bellatrix, not able to torture and play catch at the same time, released her spell on Neville and held her hand out greedily for the prophecy orb.

Before she could, a spinning white spell slammed into her and she was sent spinning into the steps. Harry hoped it hurt, even as he spun to see where the unexpected help had come from. Maybe the Ministry had finally got off its arse and realised a war was being fought below its very floor?

Of course, that was too much to ask of the Ministry. From a doorway people were spilling into the chamber he and his friends had been entrapped within, people he recognised. At the forefront was Sirius, the one who had cast the spell judging by the way he was holding his wand. On his face was a bright smile.

"Sirius!" He cried in joy.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him… The rasping voice of… was that fucking Trelawney? Of all the people he'd expected to hear down here…

"Behind you!" His Godfather replied, the smile falling off his face in a flash and his wand shifting aim.

Harry ducked on instinct as he spun, could hear a low crackle as a spell missed his neck close enough to make the hairs crisp.

"Protego!" A white shield caught a splash of violent red that came from the wand of Lucius Malfoy, only recognisable by the blonde hair spilling from behind the mask.

...Born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… Harry's useless Divination professor continued to ramble in the background, the dramatic words bouncing off the walls of the cavernous chamber.

Harry dropped the shield and cast a silent expelliarmus which Malfoy dodged with a flutter of dark robes. Harry could almost see the patented Malfoy sneer under the mask as Harry followed up with a low, but forceful, "stupefy," that Malfoy deflected with a dueller's shield before dropping the small green shield with a flick and blasting the stone in front of him, the debris flying towards Harry's head.

Malfoy had been taunting him all night, but now that there were even odds it looked like the ponce had taken a slice of humble pie to the face.

...And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies… Well, shit. That didn't sound too good. But Harry was far too busy trying to survive in the moment to think about how he would die in the future.

"Flatus!" Harry cried, inwardly wincing at the thought of the berating and no doubt oddly creative punishment Professor Slate would have given him for the exclamation. A strong burst of wind deflected the stone away, barely. A few stray bits hit, one cutting his cheek and one bouncing off his nose painfully.

He emerged from the small cloud of dust created to see a large snake writhing towards him from where Malfoy stood, already rearing to strike. Harry knew he wouldn't be able to react in time, but in his panic still raised his wand, not even having a spell in mind.

The snake sprung towards him, jaws wide, but just before it could clamp down on his arm a spell detonated against it, shattering it into harmless pieces, some of which hit the odd veil thing and didn't emerge from the other side.

All of a sudden Sirius was at his side, and now instead of Harry being the one retreating Malfoy was. He and his Godfather worked side by side, Malfoy having to go almost entirely on the decisive as he was confronted by a barrage of hexes.

"Sirius! Hermione—"

"I know kiddo! Slate's taking care of it! For now, we just need to get you out of here—duck!"

For the second time Harry ducked, the flame whip sent their way by a distinctly panicked Lucius Malfoy passing over him, the scent of burning hair filling his nose as he rose to a fighter's crouch and started casting in earnest, the wakeup call making himself and his Godfather more aggressive in their attack.

It gave Harry enough breathing room to see the fight around him and check if any of his friends needed help. Fred and George were fighting alongside their father against Dolohov and a Death Eater he didn't recognise. Mr Weasley's spells were much more devious than he'd expected, and as he watched Dolohov was taken down by one that seemed to remove the bones in the fingers, causing the pale man to drop his wand and be hit by the twins' spells.

Tonks, Kingsley and another Weasley who must have been Charlie by sheer process of elimination were facing off against Bellatrix Lestrange at the base of the steps to Harry's left. The evil woman was still holding off against all three and even managing to get in a few offensive spells. Harry had to admit he was intimidated by her skill.

Behind Lucius, Harry could barely see a flash of platinum blonde and red as… was that Fleur Delacour? And Bill Weasley faced off against two more Death Eaters. More were on the other side of the stone archway he and Sirius were duelling next to, but he couldn't make out exactly who they were.

And Moody… well, Harry couldn't see Moody.

-oOo-

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Justin Vickers—a low-level Death Eater—asked nervously, looking around the pitch-black room, so dark that closing his eyes made not a shade of difference. His voice echoed oddly in the space, bouncing off surfaces he couldn't see. Justin had only been in the Death Eaters for a month. Back then it had seemed like fun. Now, locked in the darkness with only the thundering beat of his heart in his ears and men he knew would abandon him to die at the first sign of danger accompanying him, he was beginning to regret his choices.

"Shut up, coward," Boris Avery growled in front of him. "Just keep moving, the others will need our help to catch the little shits."

They had been walking blindly through this room for Merlin knew how long, Justin was beginning to think they were walking in circles, confounded by one of the many unexplainable things in the Department of Mysteries.

"But don't you think it would be better for us to turn around?" he whispered, suddenly feeling watched and jumpy. "What if—"

"Shh!" Avery whispered, "did you hear that?"

"What? No, I—" But then Justin did hear it, a low noise in the distance. His ears strained almost painfully to hear it better through the dark.

It sounded… it sounded like wood. Wood hitting the floor in a steady rhythm.

Clunk…clunk...clunk...clunk…

"Oh Merlin," He heard Avery's confidence drop in a moment, "oh Merlin save me, oh bloody buggering shit."

Clunk...clunk...clunk...clunk…

"What? What is it?" Justin asked, clutching his wand so hard he thought it might snap as he heard Avery stumble away from the noise. His panic rose with Avery's panic.

Clunk...clunk...clunk...clunk…the wooden rhythm got louder, closer.

"It's… him."

Before Justin could question that, a low, gravelly chuckle echoed around the room. Justin, eyes wide as saucers, began to back away as well. The chuckle got louder and morphed into a full laugh, almost as mad as his Lord's, harsh and grating against his ears.

Clunk...clunk...clunk...clunk…

In the darkness, a red light grew and grew, and the light revealed their foe. A scarred, craggy face with a spinning blue eye, pinned on him and Avery. Thin lips were parted in a grinning sneer, twisting knotted scars.

Mad-Eye Moody.

Then the red light was cocked back and thrown, and the fight, while fierce, was short.

Nobody ever saw Justin Vickers again.

-oOo-

No matter. Harry was sure he would show up at some point, he couldn't imagine the old man missing out on a fight.

Finally, they broke through Malfoy's desperate defence, both he and Sirius chaining spells at the same time to bring down the shield. Malfoy was sent flying back, his head crunching nastily against a bench before he slumped bonelessly to the ground.

"Nice one Harry!" Sirius shouted in apparent joy, advancing forward to cast another spell on Malfoy, probably to tie him up.

"Sirius!" Harry heard Kingsley shout in warning. He turned to see that Bellatrix had somehow managed to knock all three of her opponents to the floor, and now her wand was raised and pointed at Sirius.

"—Kedavra!" He heard her scream, the violent green curse at the end of her wand lighting up her face in an unholy glow.

He froze, completely undone by the sight of the green light. An image in one-thousand fragments flashed through his mind, the scream of a dying woman echoing around his skull like Hades himself had emptied the Styx into it, the souls of the damned singing their tragic melody. Mum. Dad. Cedric. He watched, helpless and trapped, as the killing curse crackled towards Sirius' back, a sick sort of elegance to the way it spiralled…

Only for a pillar of stone to erupt from the ground and catch it, barely a meter from where Sirius stood.

"What?" Bellatrix shrieked then, quicker than Harry thought possible spun and cast a shield, blocking a blasting curse that shook the room. He looked to where he saw the spell came from, and relief swelled in his heart.

They were saved.

-oOo-

Harry descended from the balcony in graceful flight. His eyes had darkened from their usual quicksilver to a dark grey like the epicentre of a storm cloud. He was the image of a vengeful angel, fallen from heaven in his matte black armour, the breastplate and greaves peppered with faintly glowing blue runes. All around the raised central dais, the fights had momentarily paused, each side holding each at wand point. Harry's arrival seemed to have made everyone take a step back and rethink. He couldn't imagine why.

"Slate!" Bellatrix cackled delightedly, "you arrived just in time to see me kill my baby cousin!"

Harry's eyes flicked to Sirius and young Harry. Sirius had placed himself in front of his younger self, a steadying hand on his chest keeping him back. "Go," he told them as his feet met the ground, his wand spiralling through his fingers as he stalked. "Help the others, this one's mine."

Sirius gave him a short nod and pulled young Harry off to the side, where they joined Arthur Weasley in defending his wounded daughter.

Bellatrix cast a look their way, licking her lips like a lizard before focusing her full attention on him. "Playing the big bad hero are we, Slate?" She asked as he came before her. She was at the top of the dais, confidence exuding from her advantageous position. Her voice dropped to a deadly croon. "You know your wittle girlfriend, my niece, is here. Would you like to watch her die?"

"Don't sound so confident, bitch!" Tonks cried from where she was squaring off against three more Death Eaters with Kingsley and Charlie Weasley.

"You lot tried to kill her before, and I levelled one of your fancy manors for it," Harry said, smiling cruelly as he crested the set of stairs. "You shouldn't make threats you can't keep, Bella."

She gnashed her teeth at him as they began to circle, grinning like a loon. "Trust me, I never do, little darkling," she tilted her head, amusement vanishing as if it'd never been there. "You should know, the Dark Lord is quite fascinated with you."

"Is he now? Well, tell him I'm not interested. I've already got a job and, well," he glanced at her forearm, sneering. "The whole thing's a bit too… culty for my tastes."

She giggled, twirling a lock of her lank hair in a way that would have been coquettish had she not been so haglike. "Oh he isn't interested in recruiting you, silly billy, he wants you quite, quite dead. Almost as much as Potter, but he is interested in where you came from."

"Thought he'd be a bit old to need the whole spiel on where little witches and wizards come from," Harry snarked. "Then again, I doubt he's ever touched a woman in his life."

"We should retreat," one of the Death Eaters growled. "We heard the prophecy, but we don't have the numbers."

"SHUT UP!" Bellatrix shrieked, spinning and casting a curse. There was a whoosh! of displaced air and all of a sudden the Death Eater's head snapped around with a nauseating series of cracks and he fell to the ground, dead. Then Bellatrix turned back to Harry, her wand trained on him again. "WE'RE TALKING!"The whole thing couldn't have taken more than half a second. "As I was saying," she said, puffing a stray curl of black hair from her eyes. "Selwyn says he cursed you with avada rictus, but you lived. How did you do it, Slate?"

"The power of friendship, how else?" Harry snarled, his usual lightness of demeanour failing him.

Bellatrix had survived the final battle at Hogwarts. Afterwards, she'd gathered the remains of Voldemort's army and become the leader. The tactics had changed. She went after Harry himself, targeting all the people he loved. He'd lost Neville, Luna and most of the rest of the Weasley family before she'd been cornered by Aurors and killed. By the end of everything, he'd hated her even more than he'd ever hated Voldemort.

They stopped circling and stared at each other, the Veil silhouetting them off to the side. Harry's mental defences were ironclad, not a single whisper of his intentions slipping through. Bellatrix's were the opposite, a confused jumble of thoughts constantly changing, making it impossible to determine what she was thinking.

"Avada Kedavra!" She suddenly screeched, and suddenly the stalemate was broken. Voices filled the air, everyone around him and Bellatrix resuming their fight simultaneously.

A conjured disk of metal blocked the curse and was immediately sent back at her like a Frisbee as Harry sidestepped the heart-render that had followed it up. A twirl of his wand threw a chain net at her before he had to blast his own Frisbee up into the ceiling, where it sank into the rock like it was butter and stuck. He frowned. He was being forced to block or shield, as she was angling all her spells in a way that would hurt those around him if he didn't stop them. Unlike him, she didn't care about catching her people with her spells.

"Avarium sphaera custodio," he whispered at the ground, vibrant red light bursting from the tip of his wand. Around him and Bellatrix a spherical red shield sizzled into existence, the lower third sunk into the ground.

'Now, let's fight properly,' a bloodthirsty (his) voice crooned in his head.

He ducked the organ-expeller she'd cast at him midway through putting up the shield and watched as it rebounded off the shield and came right back at her. She had to scramble to raise a shield and block it. Harry went immediately on the advantage, spinning curses at her at a dazzling speed. She laughed as she rose shield after shield blocking them, the explosions lighting her eyes up with all the colours of madness. In a move far too quick for someone who'd been locked up in Azkaban for so long she dodged one of his javelins like a snake and cast a powerful reducto, the force of the spell kicking her wand back. The hard rock floor exploded, sending a wave of rubble at him. Instead of blocking or dodging Harry drew a circle in the air, closing it to reveal a glimpse of another place. The rock flew through and appeared in an identical circle behind Bellatrix, who was blasted off her feet.

Harry began to cast a spell that would have solidified her within the rock when he was thrown off balance. It took him a few moments to understand what was happening. The reducto Bellatrix had cast had unearthed the rest of the sphere, the shield tilting under the force. Grinning in realisation, Harry stepped backwards.

The shield tilted the rest of the way and then began to roll down the steps. Bellatrix, freshly escaped from her rocky confines, was forced to walk forwards and Harry was forced to walk backwards, like two hamsters on a running wheel.

Fights were scattered and forced apart as he and Bellatrix traded spells within their cage, rolling through groups like a runaway boulder. She looked worse for wear, clothes covered in rock dust and torn. Harry stopped another killing curse with a block of marble and then shot it at the ground, the marble sliding along the rounded surface towards her legs. With a growl, she leapt over it and cast three grasping, thorn-covered arms that reached out for him with sharp fingers.

Harry cast a charm at his feet and suddenly was rotated upside down as his boots clung to the surface of the ward, the arms slamming ineffectually where he had just been. Cackling, Bellatrix did the same and followed, the two of them constantly turned in different directions as the ball continued to roll. A gout of flame followed by a strong jet of water was sent her way. Both were shielded, but the water instantly became a hissing steam that surrounded her. A twist of his wand transfigured it into hydrochloric acid, causing the witch to shriek in pain before she blasted all away with a gust of wind. The left side of her face was red raw and weeping blood, but still she cast with the same unnatural speed, this time a blood-freezing curse. She only had time for that, though, before Harry's javelin tore through the skin of her right leg, inches away from halving her leg at the knee.

Outside, Harry saw Kingsley banish one of the Death Eaters into the path of the rolling shield. The Death Eater only had time to get up before the shield was upon him. Harry ran to where he was and cast an overpowered banisher at the floor, the ground under his feet becoming an ugly red paste as the shield was forced down onto the Death Eater. He twisted away just in time to miss a crucio at his back.

Bellatrix was directly above him now, or below him depending on what part of the roll they were in. Harry backhanded another blood-freezer and retaliated with lightning speed, his bone-breaker catching her in the shoulder with enough power to throw her to the side, the gecko charm on her feet failing as she was distracted by the pain. Even with all of this she still managed to twist in the air, much like a cat would, and land on her feet.

Just in time to catch the reducto he cast fully in the chest. She rag-dolled backwards and slammed into the wall again, then promptly began to tumble like a log as the ball kept rolling. Before she could get her bearings Harry disarmed her, caught the wand then bound her with ropes and lifted her in the air so she wouldn't keep rolling. She let out an animalistic roar of sheer fury, her eyes rolling in their sockets like a rabies-infected dog's.

Harry cancelled the shield with a few murmured words and dropped her to the ground unceremoniously, where she writhed like a mad snake. Harry considered her twisted wand with contempt, thinking of his collection, then hardened his face and crushed it with one hand, letting the splinters fall to the floor.

The room had suddenly become very hushed. The Order had restrained any Death Eaters that hadn't escaped with the force of numbers and experience, and now all were staring at him. Harry ignored all but two, one a blonde with startling blue eyes and another a blue-haired witch with pink irises. Fleur looked on with cool fury, the image of a Valkyrie with her blood and soot-stained face. Tonks stared with grim satisfaction, giving him a hard nod.

Bending down, Harry grabbed her by the hair and began to drag, ignoring her screaming. She'd go from manic anger to crooning, poison-dripped mockery in milliseconds, mood changing like the wind. She became more frantic as Harry pulled her up the steps to the Veil, not bothering to be gentle. Finally, he dumped her in front of the Veil and forced her to kneel.

"The Dark Lord," she panted, "the Dark Lord will kill you, Slate, you and—and everyone you love," she coughed, blood sliding from her mouth in clumps. "I am nothing compared to his power, he will crush you."

Harry didn't even register her words. "You've already taken some people I've loved," he said quietly, low enough that nobody else would hear. "Back then, I promised I'd kill you in this life or the next," he grinned like a Cheshire Cat. "Guess it'll be the next."

Her madness fell away, her gaze intensely curious with a hint of underlying fear, the type a hunter gets when it realises it's the hunted. "You aren't Harrison Slate," she whispered.

"Damn right I'm not," Harry snarled, "my name is Harry James Potter, twice dead, twice revived, and soon to be twice vanquisher of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Look in my eyes, and know it was I that sent you to the afterlife before you're undone," he unbent, standing over her. Bellatrix's eyes were wide with horrified surprise, lips parted to speak. He didn't give her the chance. "Say hi to Death for me. Tell him I said, not yet." And with that, Harry kicked Bellatrix Lestrange into the Veil. Her body froze in entry, then floated away with jarring elegance to the violence that beget her end.

He searched for some sense of satisfaction within him, some closure from the death of the woman that had caused so much pain.

He found it.

"Goddamn that feels good," he breathed, smiling widely, "whoever said manslaughter isn't good therapy was talking out of their—"

"Harrison Adrastus Slate!"

'Uh oh,' Ron chuckled merrily in his head, 'First, middle and second name. Looks like you're in trouble, old bean.'

'Shut it, Roonil, before I convince Malfoy to buy the Chudley Cannons.'

"Tonks," Harry smiled at the irate witch. "You look radiant this evening, did you know?"

She faltered, thunderous expression momentarily abating, then glared. "Don't try that with me, what the hell where you thinking?"

Harry looked around for a form of escape. All he got in return was a sympathetic look from Sirius and an evil smile from Fleur. Traitors of the highest order. "Umm, I wasn't?" He hazarded.

"Damn fuckin' right you weren't!" She hissed, jabbing him in the chest, which Harry accepted solidly. "Fighting her like that—"

Harry smiled when he realised what she was mad about. "Tonks—"

"—Could've been killed—"

"Tonks."

"—Would've murdered you if you died like that—"

Harry laughed, which finally made her sputter to an outraged stop. "Tonks," he emphasised, smiling as he held the side of her head with a palm. "I'm fine. She wasn't a challenge."

She lost some of her wind. "But—"

He thumbed her cheek. "I'm fine, love. I know my limits, and she was far from being within them." He didn't add that he didn't think he had any limits.

She stopped and started a few times. "I'm going to have to get used to this, aren't I."

"Afraid so," he said ruefully. "If you feel like backing out…"

She rose to the tips of her toes and stopped his words with a kiss. "I've never backed out of anything," she whispered against his lips when they parted, fierce eyes the colour of honey holding him in a vice. "I'm not about to start with you."

"This is touching and all," Moody interrupted loudly. "But we've got injured here, we need to get going."

Harry closed his eyes in resignation. He hadn't been reluctant to fight for a long time, but right then he was tempted to back off, to stay by her side and become a conscientious objector. For her.

But rare was it when a man could choose a life like that.

"Let's go," Tonks urged him thickly. "Come on. Not far to go now, then we can get right back to where we left off."

"These moments never last long enough, do they?"

"We'll just have to make the next one worth it then."

Harry smiled faintly at that, running the back of his finger down her cheek. Then he let his hand drop to his side and turned to the Order. All of them were looking at him, and it took him a moment to figure out why. They were waiting for instruction. Even Moody.

"People follow strength, Harrison," Tonks said from next to him, her hand curling around his. "Give them something to follow."

Harry looked around at the upturned faces. His younger self looked back, weary but determined. Sirius, Ron, Luna, Neville, the Twins, Ginny, Arthur, Molly, Kingsley, Remus, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Moody. All of them, waiting for his word. He'd seen many of them die when he could have prevented it. He hadn't been strong enough then, but he'd had the drive and motivation to see it through in the end. Did he have enough motivation now?

He looked to his side and found his answer. His hand tightened around Tonks'. Not even two hours ago they'd been tearing each other's clothes off, but somehow this moment felt infinitely more intimate.

This is my Rubicon. His path to creating a new life from the ashes of his mistakes, the dust of time itself. He could only hope he was worthy.

He hardened his battered resolve and crossed the bridge.

"Moody, are the Death Eaters all secure?"

A satisfied smile twisted the old Auror's lips before it disappeared. "Aye, they won't be getting away 'till the Aurors pick 'em up," he kicked a trussed-up Death Eater next to him, one of a pile that he'd arranged neatly to the side. "Amelia'll make sure they get their dues."

Harry nodded sharply. "Good." He switched his attention to Harry Jr. "The Prophecy?"

"Smashed on the steps, sir," he said regretfully. "I'm sorry."

Harry waved away the apology. "No worries. So they all heard it?"

Harry Jr paused then nodded. "I think so."

"Anyone who can cast obliviate, make sure that the Prophecy is forgotten," Harry directed. "Injuries?"

"Zis boy is suffering from cruciatus expozure, and the girl 'ad a broken ankle," Fleur said, crouching by Neville, who was slumped on a bench alongside Ginny. "I ave done all I can, but I am not an 'ealer…"

"Can they move?"

"With 'elp."

Harry scanned the people who weren't obliviating. "Molly, Arthur, could you give them some help?" The two accepted, already moving to do just that.

"Can't we just apparate them out?" Asked Sirius, his head poking above Lucius Malfoy's limp form. Mysteriously, the blonde man had found himself on top of the pile and bereft of a mask. Even stranger, someone had cut all his precious hair off. It pooled around Sirius' feet. A coincidence, Harry was sure.

"No dice I'm afraid. Anti-transport wards over the whole place. Only way we're leaving is through the Floos in the Atrium."

"Anti-transport? But we broke those to get in in the first place, who replaced them?" Bill asked.

Harry looked to the ceiling. His face was grim, but none missed the hungry gleam in his unholy grey eyes. "We, my friends, just kicked the proverbial nest. Now the mumma-bee is comin' a-knocking."

They paled. Tonks gripped his hand harder. "The Dark Lord? Here?" Charlie Weasley whispered, horrified.

"My guess is he wants whatever was in that Prophecy Orb, and what he wants, he usually gets. He's not used to losing." Harry smiled, and it promised nothing good. "I intend to educate him. While I do that, you lot try get the kiddies to safety using the fireplaces in the Atrium. Anyone who heard the Prophecy, make sure not to look in his eyes. He'll be looking for an opportunity to steal it from your mind."

The kids nodded, acting like they weren't scared out of their wits. Harry wished he could say it got easier as you got older, but he'd be lying. You just got better at pretending.

"We're done over here!" Moody called, rising stiffly to his feet. "We've been dawdling too long, Slate, we have to move."

It seemed that even if Moody was fine with him taking the lead, he was still going to be a loud voice. Harry didn't mind.

"You're going to fight him?"

Harry looked down to Tonks again, ran a thumb along the ridges of her knuckles. "Yes, I am," he admitted.

She took his honesty with a small nod. "And…you can beat him? You're certain?"

"Nothing is certain, sweetness, you know that. But I have a better chance than anyone else here."

'Lots of you tried to kill him, before. Tried and died. Over and over. I walked your gravestones and thought about being better.'

"Just…don't underestimate him, Harrison. You don't know what he's capable of."

He wanted to say the words, wanted to tell her that he knew exactly what Tom Riddle was capable of, but the they got stuck in his throat. Fearless warrior he may be, but he was too cowardly to tell her the truth. Not then, at least. Even he was smart enough to understand that if he continued this lie he'd ruin whatever they had beyond repair. Sometime soon, the truth would have to be revealed.

"I'll be careful," he promised.

'You? Careful? I'd sooner believe that dementors are good bed warmers,' a voice said snidely in his head. Harry ignored it. Out loud, he said, "Come on now, Moody's right, we do have to go."

She gave him a long, judging look then nodded, giving him one last kiss before they descended from the podium together. As they left the chamber and began the walk back through the many rooms towards the elevator the Order of the Phoenix unconsciously arrayed themselves in formation behind them, shielding the injured amongst themselves. As they crowded into the elevator a head of platinum blonde appeared by his side. Harry smiled as he stared straight ahead.

"Hello there, Fleur, having a good evening?"

"Az good as can be expected."

He snorted, glancing down at her. "You've got a little bit of…" he gestured above his eyebrow, "just here."

"Oh?" she took out her wand, flicking a spell at her face that disappeared the blood. "Zhank you."

"Have you two met?" Harry asked, looking between Tonks and Fleur.

"We spoke," Tonks said, an edge of terseness in her voice.

Harry looked between the two stone-faced women. "Oooo-kay," he said, shaking his head bemusedly. Women. He refocused on Fleur. "So, how did things go with Bill?"

"We 'ave decided to stay as friends. I like 'im, but the same does not go for 'is family. I cannot respect people who do not respect me, I 'ave far too much self-respect to put myself through zhat."

She hadn't bothered to lower her voice. For it, she received some hostile looks from the front of the lift. Bill looked delightfully embarrassed. Harry's lips curled in amusement. Fleur was a laugh to have around. He'd have to make sure to keep her about.

"Good on you, princess. If you're looking for someone new, I can vouch for a certain Harry Potter."

"Hmm." Fleur eyed up a certain Boy-Who-Lived, who was trying his hardest to act as if he hadn't noticed. "A bit young, no? A bit short."

"Trust me, he'll get taller," Harrison said magnanimously. If he managed this, he so owed himself a pint.

"We're almost there," Moody interrupted, his eye looking through the roof of the lift as they ascended. "Slate, you're sure he'll be there?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Harry said cheerfully.

"I bloody well hope not, or we're all fucked," mumbled Moody.

"Language, Alastor," said McGonagall.

The lift clanged to a halt. "Here we go," someone said. Harry didn't see who.

"Buckle up and batten down the hatches, folks," said Harry. "It's going to be a bumpy ride."

The lift doors opened, and the Atrium was revealed in all its glory. The floor gleamed, black and white chequered marble cleaned to a fine polish. The ceiling was tall, fading into black with only the vague impression of huge stone arches in the shadows. In the centre, the Fountain of Magical Brethren rose in a glory of shining bronze, a testament to Wizarding Britain's greatness.

'A testament to Wizarding Britain's lies, more like.' The only expression that was correct on that fountain was the House Elf's. Harry was surprised there hadn't been another Goblin Rebellion launched around it.

The Atrium was also conspicuously empty.

Nobody talked, the anticipation making it seem as if a single word would shatter the sky. As they encroached into the hall they all held their breaths. All apart from Harry, who closed his eyes, tilted his head up, took a deep breath and let it out in a rush.

'Air's ready for the killing.'

"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with V," he said with a mad gleam in his eyes, stepping away from the group to walk further into the Atrium, turning in a circle as his voice echoed around him. "Oh Vooooldemoooort! Come out come out wherever you are!"

"He's mad," breathed Ron from behind him.

"The world is full of madmen with a cause, Ronald. I'm looking for one right now. Oh Vooooldemoooort! Why won't you show your face?Don't tell me you're scared."

When the Dark Lord appeared, it was as if it were between one moment and the next. He stood at the opposite end of the Atrium, clad in a black cloak that seemed to pull the very shadows he'd stepped from up around his shoulders. As was his custom he was barefoot, feet as pale as his bald head, eyes a livid red. The snake-like slits of his pupils regarded Harry with a calm, constant hate. Harry finished his last turn and faced him, two small figures in the middle of the giant hall.

"Harrison Slate. I regret that we have not been acquainted until now." The Dark Lord spoke as if he were mere paces away, but his voice carried with ease, filling all the empty corners of the room.

"Can't say I share the sentiment, pal," said Harry, spinning his wand between his fingers. He could feel the blood pumping through his heart, beating a song of violence, chomping at the bit to be unleashed. He wondered how nobody heard it. "How about you let my friends here pass, and I'll let you leave here alive?"

Voldemort looked over his shoulder at the group of men, women and children, then back to him, a mockery of a smile on his thin lips. "I think not. If I thought you capable of killing me, and if I thought you'd hold to your word, I might just accept, Harrison Slate."

He wasn't wrong. The moment the others were gone, Harry would have killed him anyway.

"How about a new agreement," Voldemort whispered, stroking the length of his pale wand. "You allow me to retrieve my loyal followers, and I will only kill you… and not everyone you love."

Harry clicked his tongue, failing to stop the too-wide devil's grin from spreading across his cheeks. "No deal I'm afraid my noseless friend. You seen, I don't plan on dying anytime soon." Not again.

"Ah," said the Dark Lord. "A sentiment I can a agree with. We are at an impasse, then."

"So it would seem," Harry mourned, "I regret that we cou—Avada Kedavra!"

The look of surprise that briefly lit Voldemort's face was patronus-fuel. But soon it was engulfed by a towering rage as he tore up the ground with a jagged upward drag of his wand, marble cracking and crashing like a rock slide, rending the quiet asunder.

But instead of the Killing Curse exploding in a burst of green fire as anticipated, the spell was absorbed into the rock. A corrupted smoke curled from the entry point, and there was a faint hissing, like the stone was filled with a thousand hungry snakes.

Harry smiled.

He'd always found that the best sort of surprise was the kind that hit someone twice.

What he'd done was something only a master occlumens could accomplish. He'd split his mind into two different thought streams. With one, he'd uttered the Killing Curse, but with no intent or power. With the other, he'd cast something else entirely, knowing that a solid shield would be raised.

Voldemort's eyes widened. "No!" he cried in a guttural roar, his wand whipping around to cast a shield.

He almost raised it in time. The stone exploded towards him in a shower of livid green acid the same colour as the Death Curse, the reason he'd chosen it. The half-formed shield blocked some, but the rest splattered against the Dark Lord's face, arms and legs. He hissed in agony.

Harry didn't allow him time to recuperate. "It smells like burnt snake in here!" he cackled, and began to cast. An arc of white with a pure black edge lashed through the air towards his opponent, followed by a rocket-fast metal javelin and an explosive curse to top it off. Harry grinned and grinned, the thrill of the fight an ecstasy to his brain.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so alive.

Voldemort was forced onto the backfoot, lips pulled back in a feral snarl. He stepped to the right and split the white cutting curse in two with a flick of his wand, the javelin sailing past him harmlessly. The last explosion he shielded, the spell exploding with enough force to make Harry's ears ring. Then, behind the shield, Voldemort flickered, and appeared ten foot to the right, midway through casting a curse.

'When did he cast an illusion?'

Harry cursed and switched his aim at the last moment, his next follow-up spell colliding with Voldemort's shadow-wreathed scythe blade in mid-air. The blade shattered into cutting shards of ice, and all of a sudden neither of them was on the back foot.

A flame whip was doused with a sheet of water, the same water then turned to a sheet of metal and thrown at Voldemort like a frisbee. A crucio was blocked by a conjured block of granite close enough to him for a jolt of primal fear to shock him. Where had his metal frisbee gone? Behind him. Voldemort had banished it. He twirled sideways, and it came flying by him with a ringing hum. Someone was laughing. Through the haze, he realised it was him.

Lightning crackled up his arms, and through his wand, he channelled the ancient magic. 'You hear that, Thor? It's me, Harry!' An electric blue bolt of pure power emanated from his wand, lighting up the dim hall in a pale blue. The noise was deafening, the sound cracking and crashing of mountains colliding making his ears ring.

Cleverly, Voldemort threw his wand upwards in a whirlwind and pulled the metal beams crisscrossing under the floor out, baring them like the metal ribs of a great beast. The lightning struck and dissipated into the floor under them like a great lightning rod.

A mix of excitement and fear coursed through him. He bared his teeth and twisted his wand. The huge steel girders arched upwards in jagged spikes, closing in on Voldemort, who in response roared and swept his arms outwards. A dark wave burst from his very body, turning the metal into black dust and ash as it swept through. It continued forward in a tidal wave. Ozone and rot sweetened the air, the smell of dark magic.

Harry spread his arms wide in a mimicry of Voldemort, and from his own body, a river of incandescent blue magic poured forth in response. It spread across the hall and formed a wall separating he and Voldemort, and when the shadowed wave hit it it erupted and died against it with a long eruption of fiery red sparks. Then Harry clapped his hands together, and the shield closed to cocoon the Dark Lord. For the first time Voldemort faltered, taken aback. Harry revelled in it but understood. After all, this magic hadn't been invented yet. Nevertheless, Voldemort fought back, releasing yet more darkness. Harry pushed his hands together, as if trying to squish an invisible football, his arms trembling with the effort of keeping his opponent contained.

He saw something out of the corner of his eye, a shimmering white. Thinking fast, he dropped the containment magic, threw a twisting burst of swirling green magic at the furious Dark Lord, raised a strong shield, and looked back.

The Order of the Phoenix was edging around the fight towards the nearest fireplace, keeping the wounded and young behind their backs. The strongest were maintaining a mobile shield, a battle-defence spell that required mobile users. Tonks—brave, beautiful Tonks—watched him with worried eyes half a step behind Moody, who was holding her arm in a vice.

But that was all he allowed himself to see. He'd felt a spell impact on his shield, and it was only a matter of time before—

"Avada Kedavra!" And there it was. Harry spun as if to apparate, but instead of vanishing his body transformed into a shadow formed of a thousand shades of black and flew to the right. Then, his body reformed, and all of a sudden he was between the Order of the Phoenix and the most feared wizard in the the United Kingdom.

They stared each other down, taking a breather by some unspoken agreement. Voldemort's red eyes were blazing, but his voice was measured. "Impressive," he said, tone mocking.

Harry bared his teeth in a wolf's smile. "Believe me, sonny, you ain't seen nothin' yet."

Voldemort's eyes flicked over to the right, where the Order of the Phoenix was edging along the wall still. Not for the first time, Harry wished the Atrium wasn't so damn long. "You make bold claims, Slate."

"I do bold deeds, Riddle," said Harry, and launched into his next spell. It zigged and zagged, paused, then shot down towards Voldemort with a shrill whistle.

Eyes filled with a new rage at the name, Voldemort backhanded the spell with his bare hand, roaring in rage. Harry shifted his stance, readying himself.

'Good, good, just keep that on me baldy.' He needed to keep the attention away from the Order, keep it on himself.

From the pale yew wand erupted waves of magic. The type that, if Harry didn't block entirely, would continue past his shields and threaten the Order. Harry was effectively forced on the defensive as he had to put more effort into countering every spell. But even so pressed, he wasn't without a weapon.

"So what do I call ya, ay?" Harry gritted out as he deflected a twisting shadow into the ceiling. "Are you more of a Tommy, or just Tom?" He grinned as he felt Voldemort's anger swell. "Oh, don't tell me you're a Junior."

Voldemort screamed and slammed the tip of his wand into the floor, chanting in an undulating, oddly song-like rhythm. Around him, dark forces began to swirl and coalesce. Harry understood, realised he was laughing again, and did the same, golden light twisting around him. It was that, or be crushed by what Voldemort was creating.

Their voices reverberated around the Atrium, and from the ground up monsters were created.

Voldemort's creation was a towering thing made of yet more writhing, inky black shadow. Its arms were long, and in its face, two bright red flames roared in place of eyes.

An Avatar, the physical embodiment of everything that made a man, enhanced and grown until it was easily six stories tall. Some of the most advanced magic at mankind's fingertips.

In opposition, Harry's own Avatar formed, moats of golden magic coalescing into an armoured knight. Unlike Voldemort the Knight was solid, the pitch-black armour plates ringing with strength. The helm was formed of two great ravens wings, a slit in the front revealing two glowing white eyes. More raven wings decorated the arms, chest plate and legs, and Harry heard the mocking cawing of Death's favourite creatures ring in the back of his skull.

Voldemort's hellish creation stepped forward with deceptive speed and struck down at the Order with a massive fist, blocked by the forearm of Harry's Black Knight. An armoured fist swooped in from the side and smashed the shadowed creature in the face. It didn't show a visible reaction, red eyes a constant, malevolent glow, and it stepped back and blocked another blow before attempting to go on the offence. In their shadow he and the Dark Lord continued to fight, dancing around the feet of their monsters as the harsh flashes of their spells light up the Atrium and the blows that gauntleted fists and clawed hands land shook the chamber.

He and Voldemort kept pushing and pushing, attempting to see how far the other's knowledge went. Magic that hadn't been seen in centuries was unleashed and then countered, spells powerful and complex enough to be the sole domain of myth and legend rolling off their mortal tongues to die at each other's feet with a contemptuous flick of the wand.

Harry was beginning to realise that he hasn't been on a playing field this dangerously level in a very long time. And that, contrarily, the thrill that the challenge gave him was making his cheeks hurt with the width of his grin.

He dropped to a crouch, the whip of thin silvery magic that would've separated his head from his shoulders grazing his hair. He was casting as he did so, and when he rose to his feet he cast a spell that caused another knight to appear mid-charge in the air, another spell giving him a shield of magic to guard himself. Voldemort snarled the Killing Curse at it and the Knight exploded. Harry danced to the side so he wasn't crushed by his Avatar as it was forced on a backfoot under the power of a kick, and began to between its legs as he unfurled from his twist and took aim. Halfway through he caught Voldemort's fragmentation curse with his off-hand and held it in his palm, then pushed the tip of his wand into that hand as he finished the incantation. When he finished the spell, both he and Voldemort's spell twisted towards the Dark Lord at the same time.

Startled by Harry's abrupt skill at wandless magic, Voldemort threw up a shield on reflex. A mistake, as the spell he'd wrapped the fragmentation curse in was a shieldbreaker.

And everyone watched in disbelief as, for the second time, Harrison Slate scored a hit on Voldemort.

The shield shattered, and Harry felt a primal sort of blood-lusted satisfaction at the sight of the whites of Voldemort's eyes through the pieces of broken magic. Then it impacted, and the Dark Lord screamed as his long, loose sleeve was ripped apart on his entire left arm and shoulder. The fragmentation curse was nasty, and didn't just fragment bone. Chunks of pale flesh fell in clumps, the arm torn apart like a madman had imprinted a jigsaw puzzle over him and cut through the lines with a scalpel.

Harry pushed the advantage. He let out two shrill whistles, and from behind the Dark Lord Vaelin leapt from a teal slash in the air and locked his bronzed jaws onto Voldemort's other arm.

'Good boy.'

Voldemort yelled in surprise, trying to get his wand arm free of the very heavy metal dog hanging off of it, but was blasted to the floor by another of Harry's spells. Then he was disarmed before he could recover, and Harry caught the wand.

Harry didn't waste time on "any last words?" or any such nonsense. As fast as possible, he took aim and said calmly, "Avada Kedavra."

The smell of ozone swelled, making his stomach turn, and the sickly green spell erupted from his wand and twisted towards the Dark Lord. A real one, this time.

It got halfway there before a massive, shadowed body fell across it and blocked it, taking the curse full in the chest. Voldemort's towering Avatar screamed as its chest smoked and crackled, cut off abruptly when Harry's Knight stomped on its head and it dissolved into smoke.

"~Leave!~" He heard Voldemort scream in parseltongue, and just as the smoke dissipated, Voldemort vanished with a sharp crack! Vaelin rolled free, shook his head, looked to Harry then flashed away.

'Portkey,' he thought dully as he watched the space where Voldemort had been, something like shock rooting him to the ground.

It had been a very long time since someone had escaped him. Almost seventy years.

He suddenly realised that it was very quiet. He looked to where he remembered the Order being. They stood in a protective circle around the third fireplace along, the ones adjacent having been destroyed by the Avatar in an attempt to stall their exit. Harry noticed that all of the injured and under-aged were gone, then realised that the rest were looking at him with a mixture of awe and fear.

Tonks especially looked like she didn't know what to do with herself, a mix of confusion, awe and relief in her eyes. At that moment, the two of them looking at each other, it suddenly felt like they didn't know each other at all. Planted in the centre of the Atrium, a monster clad in a man's skin, eyes dark and body radiating with pure, unfiltered power. A man who had just bested a nightmare. It felt as though Lucifer had once more plummeted from Heaven, with no intention of ascent.

Then she took a step forward, and he was Harry, and she was Tonks, and he felt like they could conquer the world together if they just reached out and took it. Her arms were tight around him as she hugged him hard enough to make him wheeze. He didn't complain, just hugged her back, breathed in the scent of her—raspberries and rain—that smell that drove him crazy, and reminded himself that he was alive.

"That might have been the coolest, most badass, fucking terrifying thing I've ever seen," she said, voice muffled against his chest.

Harry smiled, then it twisted into a frown. He looked at the pool of blood that Voldemort had vanished from. "Didn't get him, though."

She leaned away and thumped him on the chest. It probably hurt her hand more than him. "Hey," she said, to get his attention back on her. "You came closer to doing it than anyone else has in yonks. Plus," she said, jerking her head pointedly to the side, "it wasn't a complete loss."

Harry looked to where she indicated, and for the first time realised he had an audience. Arrayed along the edge of a high balcony stood the majority of the upper echelon of the Ministry. Fudge was prominent at the front and centre, easily identified by his bulk and the sheen of sweat that Harry could see even from so far away. He was ringing that ridiculous top hat in his hands and, standing beside him, beaming as if all was well, was Albus Dumbledore.

His eyes slid from the headmaster to the idiot that had almost doomed them all, and his hands fell reluctantly from Tonks' waist. Keeping his eyes on Fudge, he began to walk towards them. His Avatar lumbered in front of him and knelt and, without breaking step, Harry stepped onto its hand and was brought up all five levels until he was level with the party, whereupon he stepped onto the railing then off onto the floor.

He chucked the wand in his left hand and, almost dropping it, Fudge caught it, staring at the pale length of wood with wide eyes. "I trust," Harry said in a deceptively light tone, "that this is sufficient proof, dear Minister."

"You—" he looked to the wand, down at the scorched marble floor of the Atrium, "—he—that was really him?"

Harry's eye twitched, and he opened his mouth to tell him that no, it was obviously another man with red eyes with Voldemort's voice and Voldemort's wand and Voldemort's fighting ability, and that Fudge was clearly not as unfailingly imbecilic as everyone seemed to think he was, but Dumbledore beat him to it, tone serious as if he wasn't thinking exactly the same thing.

"Indeed, Cornelius," he said gravely, "it would seem that the Dark Lord Voldemort has returned. As I told you several months ago."

"Yes yes. But—how—my Gods," Fudge wipes the sweat from his brow, glancing around at the murmuring audience surrounding him. Harry wonders when he'll realise that reelection is about as likely as a Chudley Canons top 20 finish. "How? How can he have come back from the dead? It should be impossible."

"How he returned is of little matter now, Cornelius," said Dumbledore placidly, "what matters now," he continued, raising his voice to carry over the crowd, who all bent to listen, "is that we do not panic. As we have just seen, Voldemort is not infallible," he gestured at Harry, who scowled and tried to ignore the camera flashes of the reporters that had managed to push to the front. "He can be hurt, and if we do not give in to the dark forces that plague our front doors, we can drive him back as we did before!"

Dumbledore had already effectively taken full control of the crowd, Fudge falling to the side, clutching the wand like a child lost in a supermarket with a toy. From the dawning look of dread on his face as he, too, was lit up by the bulbs of the reporter's cameras, Harry thought that he was beginning to understand his position. Harry had never seen Dumbledore like this, commanding and grand and larger than life. He began to understand why the old man had been able to unite the squabbling countries of Magical Europe behind his back against Grindelwald.

Harry remained behind Dumbledore's back and to the side, trying not to get involved.

"Voldemort's tactics will only work if he manages to quench our hope, to cower us into inactivity," Dumbledore was saying, ignoring the flinches. "But now I say, take hope! Put your faith in us, and we promise that we will lead you safely through these dark times, to a new era of prosperity!"

The crowd erupted in cheers and the piercing cracks of camera flashes. There were more people on the floor than Harry had thought, and the noise was almost deafening. More had started to step from the Floos, crowding the Atrium itself and maintaining a healthy separation from his Avatar. He met Tonks' eyes, the bright violet they had changed to visible even from so high up, then turned back to where Dumbledore was finishing his speech.

Dumbledore waited for the clamour to subside, then said, "You have seen, now, the potential," he gestured behind him, where Voldemort had run away, with his great hanging sleeves. Harry felt dread pool in his stomach, and he glared at the back of Dumbledore's head. Don't you fucking dare. But, as if in slow motion, Dumbledore kept his arm where it was and said, "And now, you may meet it."

It was masterful, the way he stepped aside in a way that made it obvious that he was giving the floor, passing on the torch. The press and the crowd didn't bat an eye, the cameras seamlessly refocusing on him, and Harry was suddenly the centre of attention, a circle cleared around him as people looked on expectantly.

For hope. For guidance. For leadership. For a fucking speech.

He glared at Dumbledore, who smiled at him with smug serenity. Planned planned planned. Bastard bastard bastard.

Slowly, reluctantly, he moved from his undignified lazy slouch against the balcony railing and stood at his full height. He looked around at the people gathered around him, felt the eyes on his back from the people in the Atrium.

There was something in the air, something charged, something with potential. It feelt like that final breath before lightning strikes. It was terrible and heady, and Harry knew that the canny Headmaster had just placed the future in his palms.

Isn't this what he wanted? When he preached to his students about fighting back no matter the odds, was his goal not to incite the public against Voldemort? Was this not the perfect opportunity to do so?

'This is my Rubicon.'

He looked up at the crowd. "If you're expecting some flowery speech, you can forget about it," he said, and the crowd tittered nervously and side-eyed each other. "What I have to say is very simple, and I'll start with this: Personally, I couldn't give less of a shit about Magical Britain."

There were many over-dramatic gasps, a cacophony of camera flashes and scratching of quills. But nobody interrupted him. "I don't fight because of the Ministry," he sneered at Fudge, "or for money, I sure as shit don't fight for good and evil, and I definitely don't fight for Magical Britain. No. I fight for the people in it." He met their eyes, these people that not months ago had called him a Dark Lord, and now lapped up his words like a man dying of thirst. He pointed down towards the Atrium, where the Order of the Phoenix watched. His voice was impassioned but not risen, and his pale grey eyes burnt with conviction. "Down there, there's people I want to protect—" Tonks, Sirius, Fleur "—People who could die if Tom Riddle is allowed to live. I'd ask you all to think of the people you love, too, then picture them dead. That is what they will be if you do not fight back. Voldemort doesn't care about your blood, or who your daddy is, or how much money you've got, all he wants is to destroy, and he will stop at nothing to see everything burnt just so that he can rule over the ashes."

He could feel it. Feel his words stoking the passion Dumbledore had inspired in the people, transforming it from unfocused anger to pointed, directed fury.

"Fight or do not fight. Live, or die. I cannot make you choose. But all of us were born with the ability to work wonders at our fingertips, and I refuse to believe that such a people will lay on their backs and meekly accept their fate as if it were predetermined."

There was silence for a time, then Harry nodded decisively, summoned Voldemort's wand back from Fudge's limp hands, and leapt off the balcony.

Shouts erupted, the crowd and reporters braying questions like a pack of hounds. The words chased him as he slowed his fall before he hit the ground and began to shoulder his way towards where he last saw the Order. Eventually, a path was cleared before him, and he stalked through them all, a man carving his name into the annals of history. Unstoppable.

The Order must have been saying something to him, as he could see their mouths moving, but the crowd was so loud that he couldn't hear them. He shook his head, shouted "Headquarters!" and walked into the Floo. His world was suddenly gone in a swirl of black and green, then he stepped out of the Hearth in Grimmauld Place, ears ringing with the sudden change in volume.

And stood there, face still irritatingly placid, was Albus Dumbledore, who of course had managed to slip out while he was mobbed.

He could hear the whoosh! of the hearth as more people Flood in as he stormed towards the Headmaster, magic humming in his blood. "What the fuck was that!" he demanded, coming to stand before the old man and jabbing a finger at his chest. They were of a height, and he looked the man dead in his blue eyes. "You waltz in late, not even helping with the fight—we could have killed the fucker—then you feed me to the press and fuck off back here? What the fuck?!"

"That," Dumbledore said calmly, "is what I believe is called a revolution."

Harry's face twisted. "Bullshit! I almost had him! If you had just been there—"

"—Then Tom would have activated his portkey earlier, and none would have seen that he has returned," Dumbledore interrupted smoothly. "Didn't you wonder how all they all arrived in time to see?"

Harry clenched his jaw mutinously, his pause allowing him to realise that the Order was gathered around them, watching the face-off with nervous eyes. For good reason. If he and Dumbledore fought, the neighbourhood would be levelled.

"I received Kingsley's Patronus midway through the meeting, then Alastor's one by the time I finally managed to leave. He mentioned that you had everything in hand, so instead I gathered as many as I could and urged them to come with me to the Ministry," Dumbledore said straightforwardly, perhaps sensing that Harry wasn't in the mood for his usual long-worded explanations. "I thought that we would arrive as you fought and strike an early blow against him. I expected you would be able to hold Tom off for a while, I did not, however, expect you to best him. For that I apologise."

Harry searched the Headmaster's eyes, then huffed in annoyance. "Fine," he bit out, running his hand through his hair agitatedly. "Just—don't underestimate me again. And by Hecate, if you ever trick me like that again, I swear on everything I love I'll start letting off blasting curses into the crowd. See how you get your revolution off the ground then."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "I shall keep it in mind."

Harry snorted, suddenly very, very done with everything and everyone to do with politics. "Yeah, I bet you will," he said. He sighed. "I'm leaving. I need a piss, I'm hungry, and I probably smell. Almost killing Dark Lords is hard work, you know," he shot a glare at Dumbledore.

"I do, actually."

Harry sucked on his lip, clenched his eyes shut. "Okay, I need to leave before I kill someone." He let his lip go, looked around for Tonks, then grabbed her and apparated away.

They landed in his bungalow, amidst stacks of boxes with all of his things in. He had been midway through moving out and taking down the wards between lessons when everything had gone to shit.

"The fucking nerve of that man," he burst out as soon as they hit the floor, pacing the floor like a caged animal. "Showing up right in time to be useless, then make some pissy speech and force me to play along? The bloody, fucking nerve!"

"Harri."

"If he thinks for one second that I'm going along with this, he's got another thing coming—"

"—Harri—"

"—What can I do, what can I do… I'll move the Headmaster's Office to the Owlery, I'll turn all his robes beige, I'll replace his Sherbert Lemons with cough drops, I'll enchant the toilet so he can never find it, I'll swap Fawkes with a rotisserie chicken, I'll—"

"Harrison!"

He finally spun to look at her, and words failed him at the look on her face. Her eyes were dark, looking at him with an intensity he hadn't seen in her before.

"That was, by far, the hottest thing I've ever seen."

He smiled, but it soured when he thought about it. "It would have been way hotter if I'd actually managed to—"

"Harrison," she interrupted, her voice straining, like she was struggling not to shout. "If you don't fuck me right now, I'll burn this house down with us inside it."

That finally drew him out of his rage. All of a sudden, his skin was prickling like he was being baked in an oven, and his layers of armour felt unbearably restrictive. His eyebrows rose, his mouth tilting up in a sly smile as he stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Well, we wouldn't want that. I'm not actually insured for house fires, so..."

She made a noise in the back of her throat, like she almost laughed but stopped it before it could get out. "You're an idiot," she said, then kissed him.

It started slow, then quickly got more heated. He felt her hands card through his hair as his slid around the curve of her arse and pulled her into him. She made a little whining noise into his mouth at the contact that made his brain short-circuit.

Finally, they came up for air, and Harry sunk his head below her jaw and peppered kisses along her neck. He heard her say something and he said against her skin, "Hm?"

"You…should get…comprehensive coverage," she said, grinning down at him.

He snorted loudly into the place where her neck slanted into her shoulder, and above him she let out a delighted cackle. Until he pushed her against some boxes by the wall and got his leg between her thighs, and she gasped and writhed against him, hands moving frantically over his shoulders. "Fucking clasps," she said breathily, "these things don't work for shit."

"Hey, don't diss the armour, I worked hard on that," he said against her lips.

"Well you did a shitty—fucking—job!" she yanked on the straps.

"Oi, oi, oi," he pulled back and slapped her hand away, "what the fuck are you doing?"

Her face was red, and she was breathing heavily. With how close she was to him, it was very distracting. "You made crappy armour that isn't letting me take you clothes off, that's what's happening!"

He laughed. "Here," he tugged on the rear of the straps, and the armour fell off easily. "See?"

She pouted at him, feigning annoyance with her eyes dancing. "Stop looking so smug. Smugness isn't sexy."

He hummed, too aroused for words, and then they were kissing again, clothing falling around them.

It wasn't delicate or slow like it had been at Grimmauld Place, it was hot and clumsy and frantic. When they finally coupled their entire bodies rippled outwards like they were liquid, muscle and skin shifting so they might better pleasure each other. It became a game, their abilities giving them control over endurance, and when they finally finished their naked bodies were both slick with sweat, lips swollen and hair mussed. Tonks was the most thoroughly fucked woman he'd seen in his life, and he wasn't far behind. They were lying in the bed, the only piece of furniture left in what had been his bedroom. The two of them were coiled together like serpents, their bodies moulded to fit.

"That…was…the best sex…I've ever had," Tonks panted, then looked down at herself, "I think my vagina's gonna fall off."

"Guh," said Harry, his head tilted back on the pillow.

They were silent for a time, then she shifted so her chin rested on his chest, her bare breasts sliding against his skin in a way that would have excited him had he not felt empty as a deflated balloon. "You know what's going to happen now, right?" she whispered up at him. Her eyes were a shimmering gold in the dim light, her hair an inky pool falling around her round, pale face.

He looked down at her, and wondered if he was in love.

"What?" he asked, realising he had completely lost himself in her eyes.

Her lips curved, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. "Taking control of the Order, what you said to the press. You realise what this means, right?"

He closed his eyes and slumped back again, not wanting to think on it when he was so content.

"People are going to start looking to you, Harrison, for leadership, for guidance." She reached up and cupped his cheek, brought his head up to look down at her. "You're becoming more, Harrison. More than a man."

He brought his free hand up, held her hand against his face. "I know."

She held his eyes, her head tilting. "You do, don't you?"

His heart thudded and he forced himself to keep looking back, nodding jerkily. "Yeah."

"What aren't you telling me, Harrison Slate?"

"I'll tell you, I promise. Just…not now." He thumbed her knuckles. "Do you think you can stay with me until then? Through all of this?"

She raised her eyebrows and smirked. "After that? I'd have to be insane not to."

"I'm serious, Tonks. Like you said, I have secrets. And I know I'm not exactly the most sane bloke, your dad hates me, and—"

She silenced him with a kiss, her face becoming serious to match his. "I don't care," she said. "I—well, I don't think it's love just yet, but I'd rather be with you than anyone else, I know that."

"Yeah," he said softly, "me too."

"Isn't that enough, then?"

He swallowed. "I guess it'll have to be."

She smiled. "Then I'll wait for you."

He nodded, lay back and stared at the ceiling as Tonks sighed happily and shifted to lie more comfortably by his side, his arm wrapped around her.

His storm-grey eyes looked into the past, and he thought about rows of gravestones with his friends' names on them.

AN: Thank you for reading! And now, because you've all been so patient (unless you skipped straight to here from the top, you dirty little cheats), here is your prezzie:

I got my grubby little mitts on a midjourney subscription. With it, I generated some images of Harrison, Tonks and Fleur, who seem to be the favourites of the story.

imgur com/a/JZMmAlc

For the link obviously remove the space and replace it with a full stop to get the images. If you're on a computer, replace the "www." in the fanfiction address bar with "m." to copy paste from here.

I couldn't get Harrison's eyes exactly right, but considering he's a metamorph you can assume that he's just changed them for the pic. Same goes for Tonks, who has a few different looks. I hope you enjoy the portraits, tell me what you think in the comments and if you picture them a different way. Give fancasts if you want. For Tonks I was picturing a mix of Emma Stone and Billie Eilish.

As for the next chapter(s), I have big plans in my head. Like the incoming meeting between Flamel and Harry, the Horcrux in the school, the meeting with the Grey party, getting rid of the Horcrux in Harry's head and a magical heist to get the ring Horcrux. I'll be honest with you and say that none of it is written, and I have no idea when it will be. But my notes app continues to grow, and I continue to think about this fic when I should be sleeping or working.

For now, though, all I can say is thank you so so much for all the kind reviews, and I hope that I can continue to entertain.

Until next time!