I lied.

This is the real prank, telling you all there was no chapter this week and posting one anyway.

My editor, Politically Problematic Prose Pundit, Is mad at me.

Hello everyone, it was brought to my attention that I never explained why the lesser fomorians call Harry "The Living Legacy of Tethra" so allow me to give you the short and dirty.

Tethra was the Formorian of the fear of death and endings, he was the Formorian that all other Formorians feared.

What Harry represents as a demigod is the promised end to the Hunt. Hence why he is sometimes called The Promised End* (Nickname unlocked).

Harry is the continuation of Tethra in a way, he brings the fear of the end and death to every monster around him.

Anyway, let's get this Jumpjustu Kisen shit started.

On with the show.

Editor's Note: that sounds like the name of a yaoi slashfic chapter.

Ron Weasley, Mag Turied.

Ron Weasley has gone on many adventures with his friend Harry, many dangerous, life-threatening adventures. From trying to protect the philosopher's stone in their first year to hunting a beast composed of the many sins of mankind. With Harry, things were never boring.

But this one, coming to some forgotten and godforsaken island somewhere off the coast to try and stop the darkest wizard known from freeing some super scary and powerful monsters from their imprisonment. Well, this one, in his honest opinion, had to take the cake in the damn near suicidal department. But still, he went with Harry because, after the events of the Triwizard tournament last year and how both he and Hermione reacted to it all at the beginning, he swore to himself he would never let Harry stand alone again.

Would he ever regret that oath? Probably.

Would he ever go back on it? Probably not.

So when Harry had set the plan of attack, he didn't fight back against it for two reasons. One, because both Ron and Hermione knew what Harry was trying to do, he wanted to keep them safe and away from what he was about to do. Because if there was one thing Ron understood about his best friend, it was he had a very skewed value of human life that he and Hermione did not. Ron couldn't really say how skewed it was, but he knew Harry never lost sleep over the people he had killed, which was a whole other problem.

The second reason was that Harry wanted them to have an escape plan in case they needed to beat a quick retreat. Ron, Hermione, Theodore, and Luna wouldn't be able to do that if they were in the heart of the enemy's base. That's why Harry had split them into two groups, one facing right and the other going left to take out as many Death Eaters as they could before backup arrived and it had gone pretty well. He and Hermione had approached the spooky arse fortress under the cover of Harry's spooky arse cloak. If there was one thing that he and Delphini agreed on, it was how creepy being under Harry's invisibility cloak was.

But Ron pushed the feeling of being watched away as he focused on the task at hand. Sneaking up on the small patrols around the island where they would silently stun them before Hermione used the permanent sticking charm on their clothes as Ron snapped their wands. They had taken out eleven people using this method before they hit a snag, the snag being a magically sensitive Death Eater.

They had approached three of them from behind, lifting the cloak to cast a few Stunners. They had got two of them and just turned their wands on the one in the lead, but the Death Eater was already turning around with wand in hand. The Death Eater sent some type of purple corkscrew spell at them, and nothing purple was ever a good thing when it came to magic. So Ron and Hermione dove out of the way in opposite directions with Hermione taking the cloak with her.

"Shite!" Ron curses as he rolls, dodging another curse from the Death Eater before jumping for cover underneath a piece of shattered wall.

"Get out here you little gobshite," the Death Eater growled before waving his wand and vanishing the stone Ron had taken cover behind. Ron had no choice but to backpedal, shielding and dodging when he could. He wasn't Harry, he couldn't take on a Death Eater alone as his best friend could. Luckily, he wasn't alone. Ron barely noticed the cloak parting once more before Hermione released a hail of spells at the masked man, but it had too little effect as the Death Eater turned to her before she even finished her first spell.

The Death Eater's attention turned to Hermione to shield the oncoming spells before returning fire, giving Ron much-needed time to do his own spell work. He chained together Transfiguration and Charms to create four of his tiny knights before sending them after the Death Eater. The man turns and tries to destroy one with a Bombarda but the spell does little against the dense iron knight as they finish their charge. The Death Eater dodges and banishes them as much as he can while shielding against Ron and Hermione's onslaught of spells. After one of the knights lands a hit on the Death Eater's leg, the man starts throwing out the Killing Curse, and as soon as the acid-green spell hits one of the knights, they shatter, forcing Ron to make more on the fly.

It became a battle of attrition after that, something Ron did not want to get into with a fully-grown wizard. Ron could already feel his heart stuttering and burning as he forced too much magic through it too quickly. Ron quickly creates two floating shields, sending a silent thanks to Harry for showing him the spell combo during their training with Scáthach; he wasn't as proficient with the spells as Harry was but they would have to do.

Ron swishes and flicks his wand giving his knights new orders to dodge the spells coming at them as they attack. Hermione was busy trying to stop the movement of the Death Eater, turning the ground under his feet to sludge and causing roots and plant life to entangle his feet. But like Ron, she was running out of steam and from her slowing of her spells was feeling the burn of her core. It was then that the Death Eater conjured a wall around him to stop Ron's knights and the waves of spells from Hermione and fired a single spell into the air that exploded into silver sparks.

"Bloody hell," Ron cursed before turning to Hermione. "Hermione! We've got to go! He's calling reinforcements!" he shouts at her just before she pulls the cloak fully over herself and vanishes from sight. Ron runs towards the direction he sees Hermione in, but the wall around the Death Eater opens and out from it sprung the Killing curse. Ron quickly moves a shield in between him and the curse to take the blow but is knocked to the ground by a chunk of shrapnel hitting him across his head. "Fuck!" he curses in his head before shakily maneuvering his last shield in front of him.

"Ron! Watch out!" Hermione calls out just before the Death Eater turns when the sound comes from and launches a wide-range spell to try and hit her. Ron then hears what Hermione is trying to warn him about, a skittering and clicking sound that he only ever heard in his nightmares. His head snaps to his left and he pales as fear freezes him in place as he sees a spider pulling itself from the shadows. It was as large as a muggle car and its fangs were dripping venom as it clicked them at Ron before lunging at him.

"Flesh and fear!" the eight-legged freak clicks at Ron as his brain stalls and fresh terror pumps through him. This is how he always thought he was going to die, eaten by a huge bloody spider. Memories of his childhood flood his mind, his teddy bear growing four extra legs, fangs snapping at his face as he screamed, unable to throw the toy away as it wrapped its legs around him. He could hear Hermione scream his name before it twisted into a scream of raw pain and anguish as the spider leaped at him, its maw open wide and hungry.




The spider gets hit in the side of the head midleap, all perfect shots and close grouping. The Formorian doesn't even have time to scream before a blur of silver and gold slams into the spider foot first with a sickening crunch and sends it flying. Ron looks up at his savior with wide eyes, her silver jacket fluttering in the breeze as she holds a black bow as tall as she.

Atalanta had arrived just in the nick of time.

Her face was a snarl of such protectiveness and rage it froze Ron from crying out in relief. "Who the hell- '' the Death Eater begins to say, but as soon as he begins to speak, Atalanta has already drawn another arrow and nocked it to her bow. The Death Eater was cut off by the same arrow finding a home in his forehead as Atalanta let loose her shot.

"Ron!" Bill's voice calls out, full of worry and fear, causing Ron to look behind him to see his older brother charging forward into battle with Charlie, Sirius, and the other members of the Order right behind them. Bill slides to a stop, his face a picture of worry as he begins to check Ron over. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he says as calmly as he can.

"Hermione, under Harry's cloak," Ron slurred as he began to lose focus. Sirius turns to look over the field and casts a spell that causes golden motes to fall over the field.

"Found her!" Sirius yells before rushing over to the fallen form of the girl hiding under the cloak. "Fuck, we need to get the kids out of here, now!" he calls out to the rest.

"Wait, Luna and Theodore are still on the island, they flanked right around the fortress under another invisibility cloak," Ron mutters as carefully helps him to his feet with a curse.

"Fuck! Why did she send kids here!?" Dora yells as she rushes over to Sirius' side to try and help with first aid so they can move Hermione.

"Ron, you did great but-" Bill tried to say before he was quickly cut off by another voice.

"What about Harry?" Atalanta quickly asks, turning to Ron with worried eyes but before the boy can answer her a foul magic falls across them all as they all turn to look at the fortress to see a blazing serpent of flame rise high into the sky before disappearing as it charges forward. "Never mind," Atalanta says with a tired sigh, eyeing the fortress with new resolve. "Found him,"

"Yeah, he went after you-know-who as soon as we got here," Ron says before looking back at Bill as Dora, Sirius, and Atalanta all curse. "Listen, the Death Eater called for backup not long before you lot showed up, we-" Ron says quickly, raising his wand to conjure more knights but Charlie quickly stops him.

"We are doing nothing, you and Hermione are going back to Hogwarts, now," Charlie says softly before he grabs Ron by the collar of his uniform and begins to drag him back from the battlefield.

"Besides, I'm not worried about any backup, Ron," Bill tells him with a smirk as he watches Charlie drag him away. Ron opens his mouth to ask why, to try and tell him that there were more things on the island than just Death Eaters, but it was all drowned out with a cacophony of sharp whistles as something cut through the air. His eyes widen at the sight of a few charging dark wizards and monstrous fomorians before the whistling sounds cut off and the earth that surrounds the dark wizards and monsters explodes in a baptism of fire and shrapnel.

Laughter as high as bells could be heard echoing around them. The mists gather and part as a familiar silhouette steps from it clad in silver armor and armed with a saber and wand. Her blonde hair was done up in a complicated braid, swinging from off her shoulder and down to the middle of her back as she looked behind her at Ron. Horizontally slit pupils set in yellow-orange eyes shining in the dark look back at Ron, his jaw drops as Fleur Delacour turns and looks at him with a smirk.

Harry Potter, Mag Turied.

The stench was overpowering, rancid, and decaying. Rotten flesh drenched in brine filled the room so thick he couldn't smell anything else. His stomach heaves and turns as the miasma waters his eyes. He quickly pushes himself up off of the floor to his hands and knees before ripping his helmet off and vomiting into the pool of blood below him.

After the orb of tainted blood ruptured and filled the room in a wave, it threw Harry, Voldemort, and the rest of the Death Eaters away from it like waves in the ocean. Harry opens his eyes and sees a small sea of tainted blood, the same blood he had swallowed, taking care to breathe through his mouth only, he notices something that stops his heart in terror.

He had lost his wand in the rupture.

He curses in his mind, sure that when his teacher found this out she was going to kick his arse back and forth before tossing him into the chasms of the Land of Shadows. He looks up and around and quickly finds the Golden Rose of Mortality still stuck in the pillar where he stabbed it. He had to get to it, it was his only weapon at the moment for he had left his Holly wand back at Hogwarts, another oversight that Scáthach was sure to tear into his arse after she found out.

"Well, well, well," a voice high and cold calls out, freezing Harry in place as he was about to get up to go get his spear. The voice reminds Harry of cold silk, if silk wanted to choke you to death, he turned in the direction of it, his eyes wide, to see who spoke. "What do we have here?" the voice says, belonging to an impossibly tall man.

As tall as Hagrid but also incredibly thin, his skin was paperwhite and looked almost translucent in the full moon's light. But Harry could spot no veins or cords of muscles hanging off the rail-thin frame of the new monster. He was bent over and inspecting Voldemort while he was on his back with one claw-like hand on his chin, he had an aristocratic face with high cheekbones so sharp it looked like Harry could cut his hands on them and a pointed chin. Long and straight inky black hair falls from a widow's peak and down his back before stopping at his shoulders. Peeking from under the curtain of black hair and all along his forehead, golden bone-like spurs jut from his thin flesh like a crown adorning his head.

Voldemort's wand hand twitches as the other monster leans over him, what Harry thought to be an odd-looking set of robes or a kilt wrapped around the taller monster lashes out. A wing, as black as night, unhooks from the Formorians shoulder and sweeps under his arm before stabbing into the ground like they were blades; trapping Voldemort's hand between the feathers.

"Tut-tut," The Formorian says, his hand leaving his chin to wag a single finger at Voldemort and smile at him, revealing shark-like teeth to the world. "None of that now, we've only just met and yet you try and raise a weapon at me," He says with a chuckle as he stands his full height over Voldemort. "How very rude of you, little mortal," it says as Harry watches a second wing unhook from the taller monster's shoulder and fanning out behind him as if he was stretching it.

Harry watches all of this and cannot help but think about Theodore's rants. About the Catholics and Christian monks rewriting the mythology of the island to make the Dé Danann into fallen angels. For the monster before Voldemort was nothing less than proof of why they rewrote them like that for the monster was horrifyingly beautiful in a twisted and demented way.

"I am no mortal," Voldemort snaps back at the Fomorian, his voice a growl of anger at the other monster's disrespect.

The Fomorian merely chuckles at Voldemort's words instead of killing him where he lay. "Forgive me, yes, I can see what you mean now. It is haphazard and temporary at best, but yes, you are indeed very resistant to Terminus it seems," the Formorian says with another smile before a soft whine catches its attention.

He turns to see a bubbling pool of dark water in the middle of the sea of blood and tilts his head as he watches a rotting, shapeless, and Lightless Beast pull itself from the water. The Beast limps toward its sire, and with each step, another chunk of wet meat falls from it and splashes into the blood, dissolving into either nothing or the bones of some poor person it had devoured. Much to Harry's surprise, one of the chunks of flesh melts away to reveal the still and unmoving body of Fúamnach, his silver hunting knife still buried in her heart.

Harry looks away from the sight of Fúamnach's body as the pain of loss twists in his chest. His eyes clenched shut as he grabbed the feeling and cast it out into the snowy fields before slamming shut the front door. (he'd deal with it later. He's fine, he's fine, he's finehesfinehesfinehesfine,)

Harry lets out a ragged sigh before opening his eyes just in time to see the tainted blood under him begin to flow back toward the ritual circle. His eyes follow it as the feeling of dread and terror begins to well up again, and he isn't the only one who feels it.

"All of you!" Voldemort quickly snaps at his Death Eaters, also covered in tainted blood. "Escape, now! Use route B, I will join you as soon as I finish here!" He orders them, and Harry watches as a few, including Bellatrix hesitate for a moment before turning and fleeing out of the fortress through the shattered windows. Harry's eyes are drawn back to where the ritual circle once stood and watches in horror as hands begin to breach the surface of the blood and push themselves to freedom. As they push, the blood gathers and gives form to the rising fear.

The first to emerge was a giant, as tall as three Hagrids standing on each other's shoulders and twice the mass. He was bald with a similar build to The Dagda, as the tainted blood rebuilt its body, Harry could see it was covered in scars. Some were slashes from blades, others were puncture wounds from spears or arrows, but the vast majority were from burns. They covered the monster from head to toe, giving the giant an odd waxy look in the moonlight almost like he was going to melt right in front of him. One scar stood out to Harry, vivid and pink and fresh-looking, it sat in the middle of his forehead starting at the bridge of his nose and extending up past his hairless head. When the giant finally opened his eyes, Harry saw them as empty black pits before a deathly green flame poured from them but oddly gave off no light.

Balor, the Lightless Flame rose anew.

The next monsters rose in pairs from the tainted blood, one was roughly the size of a human with sickly pale skin and dressed in finery stained with dirt and filth with a long cape that reminded Harry of moth wings. His hair seemed to be a stringy and greasy mess that hung down to his shoulders, his once handsome face was now marred with scabs, scars, leaking pustules, and boils. Crusty sickness clung to his dark eyes as mucus leaked from his crooked nose, his only human-like hand reached up to wipe it away with the palm of his hand. The rest of his extremities were thickly covered in an insectoid-like carapace of a molted green color, his pants ended in a ragged look around mid-calf where his legs and feet were also wrapped in the same insectoid look. He lets out a wheezing laugh that quickly turns into a wet hacking cough as he looks around.

The other Formorian was dressed in an open silk robe that showed the spider web-like scars carved across his muscular body. The kilt he wore was more akin to spider webs that were finely spun together and as pale in color as his robes. His face was pointed with a thin growth of facial hair that connected to short-cut brown hair, what Harry thought were scars around his eyes, soon opened to show an extra three sets of spider-like eyes. The smile the monster gives the world makes Harry think the most human-looking of the Formorians could sell seawater to a fish and he dislikes it immediately.

And so rose Nemed, the Coughing Prince and Crawling Rot.

Bres, the Spinner of Schemes, had risen with the Coughing Prince.

If the last two were the most human-looking, the next two were as far from human as Harry could imagine. The first that rose was massive in size, but still half the size of the largest Formorian, at first Harry thought the blood covering the monster had yet to sink in to reform it. But as the blood stays, coating the bands of thick muscle, Harry understands that it is just how the monster chooses to look. Its shoulders were massive enough to accommodate the two sets of extra arms on each side, as the monster moved its head to crack its neck, he could also make out two other equally angry faces on the sides of its head. The monster let out a sigh from all three of the mouths on its body, it was a musical sound, almost like a bagpiper's tune as soldiers marched their way to a coming slaughter.

The next monster was an amalgamation of creatures, from the long snake-like tail to the short stubby back legs of a hyena. The massive bulky frame of some type of oxen, the long arms of a man that end in sharpened claws at least six inches long, to the long neck of a deer or elk that a fleshless skull with a missive horn span of eleven feet sets on top like a crown. The monster's large emaciated frame was wrapped in tight flesh of mismatched fur and scale, Harry could count its ribs as though the monster was starved. As the monster turned to look at Harry, he knew the Formorian by its eyes alone.

For they were the amber eyes of the Hunt.

And so, the Formorians of Slaughter and of the Hunt rose, Cichol and Gnoll.

It was the whine of the Beast that drew Harry's attention back to the winged Formorian, the monster had knelt to pet the dying creature with a look of curiosity on its horribly beautiful face.

"Oh, you poor thing," the winged Formorian said with a small smile as he looked at the monster that caused Fúamnach's death. "But you've served your purpose long enough," he says callously before Harry watches with cold detachment as the monster shoves its arm into the Beast and eats it with a sickening slurping sound. The monster stands, his arms twitching violently as he does, before letting out a low-grown like a meal well fed upon. "Now that's the good stuff," it says with a cruel grin as it turns back to the ritual circle. "My kindred-" he begins to say before his right arm suddenly and very violently snaps in two. The pale paper-like flesh and muscles bulge and twist as the monster's arm jerks and his bones snap. A face begins to push its way through the flesh, screaming as it tries to escape being buried in the body of the monster.

"How amusing," the winged monster says before lifting his right arm in front of him, showing no signs of pain as his fingers bend backwards and are broken. One dark wing lifts before coming down on the arm, severing it from his body before a flash of black muck, his arm regenerates. The monster tilts his head for a moment, inspecting the twisting and convulsing lump of flesh before waving his hand over it. "I'll deal with that later, who knows, it may come in handy," he mutters to himself before the lump of flesh sinks into the monster's shadow.

"Now, where was I?" He asks, to seemingly no one before snapping his fingers on his freshly regrown hand. "Ah, that's right! My kindred! How good it is to see you all once more outside that annoying prison," he says with a flash of his shark-like teeth to the rest of the Formorians who had risen from the blood while Harry wasn't looking, each more monstrous than the last. "And we seem to have this…thing to thank for that!" he says before his wings fold under his arms once more as he turns to gesture at Voldemort. The dark lord was standing now, looking at each of the embodiments of mankind's greatest fear without even flinching.

"Rude," Voldemort remarks with a sneer toward the winged monster, but all the monster does is throw back his head and laugh.

"Well, we aren't known for being polite," He says before pausing as if he was considering something. "Well, Bres is, but that's only because he has to be most of the time," the winged monster says with a dismissive gesture toward the most human-looking of the monsters with spider eyes. Bres looks over to Voldemort with an oily smile that shows a hint of the shark teeth hiding behind his lips.

"But I suppose I should mind my manners for the one who freed us," the winged monster says before bending at the waist and crossing one arm over his chest as his other folds behind his back. "I am Indech, King of the Formorians and the forever blind. It is a pleasure to meet you, whoever you are," Indech says as he raises from his bow and looks at Voldemort with amused and expectant eyes.

"I am Lord Voldemort," he says shortly, never looking away from the king of the Formorians' smirking face. "And I bow to no one," he says, his lips twisting into a sneer at the very thought of the act. Indech smiles at Voldemort, it was a condescending thing full of amusement as if the thought of his food getting snarky with him was something akin to dinner and a show. As Harry watches the two monsters interact, the sinking feeling of failure starts to settle in his chest, he had failed to kill Voldemort, he had failed to stop the ritual, and he had failed to stop the Formorians getting free.

He had to leave, he had to find his friends and get the hell off the island. Voldemort and the Death Eaters was one thing but now with the greatest fears mankind has ever known now walking the earth and Harry knew he could not deal with both of them. His eyes begin to look for the one thing that could save him, easily penetrating the darkness of the room Harry finally spots his wand. It was laying on the ground by the main door nearly forty feet from him. He wants to curse when he spots it but bites the inside of his cheek to avoid doing just that. His eyes travel back to the Formorians and Voldemort, who was in some kind of sneer-off with Indech. Harry's eyes flick back and forth between his wand and the monsters, hoping against hope he would be able to make it before any one of them notices him.

As he turns and grits his teeth for the charge of his life, he feels a cold clammy hand caress his cheek causing Harry to freeze as something whispers into his ear.

"My oh my, what delectable thing do we have here?" It says in a hungry tone of voice, its breath smelled of rot and sea brine. Harry turns his head and looks into the hooded eyes of another of the monsters, she floated a few inches above ground with starving eyes. She was one of the most beautiful creatures Harry had ever laid eyes upon. It wasn't like Aphrodite, whose form would shift like water to match with what whoever looked up on her finds the most beautiful. No, this was a haunting beauty, one that seared its form into your mind as something that was as fear provoking as it was awe inspiring.

The monster's smile sharpens as she sees the look in Harry's amber eyes. "Well, aren't you going to be a rather tasty one," she says with a lick of her lips and as the uncaring eyes of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon look back at Harry's suffering and do nothing to stop it. But it wasn't just their eyes, it was every single pair of eyes that ever suspected or found out and did nothing to stop it. Her smile grew as fear flashed fresh in Harry's eyes, filled with sharp shark teeth and hunger, but before the monster could draw Harry in to eat her fill, another monster appeared behind her.

He was tall and statuesque, a look of anger over his cold face with inky black tears that seemed to be a permanent and ghastly feature of his pale gray face. He appears out of a thick mist and grabs the other monster by the hair before wrenching her away from Harry.

"Get your clammy hands off my meal, Cethlenn!" he roars before tossing the other monster away from Harry, Cathlenn adjusts herself midair, still floating above the ground and hisses at the other monster.

"The boy is mine, I saw him first, Regan!" Cethlenn snaps at the other monster, a black drool spilling from his lips onto her bare breasts.

"You see everything first, ya creepy fucking voyeur," Regan snaps back as the dark mist begins to crawl around Harry's form, choking him with smog and pollution, dragging him back to his days locked in his lonely cupboard. Harry hunches over and screws his eyes shut before calling on the Hunt to growl in his mind to chase the old nightmares away, a sound that's reverberated by another.

Gnoll towers over Regan, its massive clawed hand swinging out and striking the other Formorian away. Black congealed blood forms a lower jaw just under the elk skull that made up its face, showing off the razor sharp shark teeth before roaring at Regan and Cethlenn. Almost like it was telling them to back off of its meal, but apparently Indech had enough of his kin snapping at one another.

"Stop!" Indech snaps at them, his wings twitching as if they were restless with irritation. "Can we not all be in one place without snapping at each other over a snack, we have millions to now feed off of. All of you are acting like children over one…" Indech begins to rant before finally turning to look at Harry, his eyes empty pits of darkness. Not like The Morrígan's, but empty sockets of endless darkness. He pauses in the middle of his rant, his angry and sly smile slowly slipping off his face as he looks at Harry, really looks at Harry.

"Balor," Indech says calmly, catching the largest Formorian's attention who was busy watching the other three fight over Harry with a cruel grin. Indech points at Harry with a glare set on his face. "Kill that thing," he says coldly, as Harry's eyes widen.

"No," Voldemort says, moving to shove the king of the Formorians out of the way. "The boy is mine and mine alone to kill, you will stay out of it," he says angrily as Indech turns and glares at the Dark Lord.

"If you wanted to kill him, you should have done it already. Balor! Now!" Indech roars, turning to face the other eyeless monstrosity as Voldemort levels his wand at Indech.

"I released you," Voldemort snarls at Indech who turns to look at Voldemort, no longer amused by the antics of the mortal.

Harry turns to watch Balor turn to him, the fire in the monster's eyes dying down only for the scar in the middle of his forehead burst open in a shower of muck like blood. Sitting behind the gore and bone was a single baleful eye full of malice and fire, Harry watches the pale green flame trapped in the eye begin to swirl and gather in the pupil.

"And you think I care about that why, exactly?'' Indech asks Voldemort in a dismissive tone as his wings begin to unfold themselves and rise behind the king of the Formorians. "I will not have something like Tethra running around again. He was a pain to control and if it's one thing I am happy that the Dé Danann had done, it was killing him," Indech explains as he sneers at the very mention of the Formorians of the end.

Balor turns his eye toward Harry and he begins to feel his flesh burn, his body cooking from the inside out, and the beginning of an unimaginable amount of pain swell up across his nerves.




The word that drowned out Voldemort's cry was filled with such visceral hatred and righteousness, it shook the island like a quake. All of the Formorians eyes widened at the sound before turning in the direction that the shout came from, but that was all they could do. A pillar of light descended from upon high and collided with Balor's open eye dead center shaveing off the top half of the giant's body. As the rest of the body begins to fall, The Dagda, in all his godly glory falls upon the chamber, his maul rises high above his head. And with a war cry that shook the heavens, the great god of the Celtic people brought down his maul's blackened end on to the remains of Balor the Baneful, burying it within the earth and scattering all who stood in the chamber with his mighty strike.

The force of the blow came like a shockwave knocking both Harry and Voldemort away and across the chamber, Voldemort slamming into a pillar as Harry hits the back wall by the entrance, knocking the wind out of both of them before the choking dust is kicked up in the room. The Formorians scatter, some jumping out of the way of The Dagda's mighty blow, while others are caught in the shockwave and thrown from the chamber, while the last sum of them float above it all. One of the Formorians, a being made of never ending sky and arcs of lightning, raises its arms toward The Dagda to unleash vertigo and lightning upon the earth-father, but just as fast the great god swung his mace once more. The power of fear and the divine mace meet in a clash of fury that sends both the Falling Titan, Conand the Vast and the Witch-Father flying away from one another.

They enter the fray then, meeting the Formorians, their ancient enemies head on.

Ogma, dressed in gleaming armor of brass and armed with shield and spear, meets Octriallach, The Stranger. A being of twisting flesh and unknowing self that shifted itself into a duplicate of Ogma, weapons and all, to do battle with him.

Brigid, dressed as Harry first saw her, swiftly slams into Bres, taking him through a wall with her dagger raised and poised to stab his heart.

"Hello, my dear!" Bres cries out with a cruel smile as his hand wraps around her wrist to stop her blow.

"I want a divorce, you bastard!" Brigid yells right back at him as burning skulls begin to surround her as Bres cackles.

Indech swiftly turns, drawing a blade of pure darkness from his wings and blocks the silver arm of Nuadha. "Nuadha!" Indech screams in delight as his beautiful face wraps into a twisted sneer of excitement. "I see you got a replacement for that arm I took!" He yells in the face of the Father of the Hunt.

"Why the fuck are you yelling?" Nuadha snarls out as his arm begins to glow with internal light. "I'm standing right here!" He snaps back right before Lugh, a sunburst armed with spear, comes crashing down on the King of the Formorians, only for his blow to be blocked by one of Indech's wings.

"You," Indech says, his voice seething with hatred at Lugh the Long Arm, before he deflects the blow aimed at his heart. "Cichol! The boy! Kill him!" Indech orders the fear of slaughter before leaping away from the two rightful kings, leading them away from the chamber.

Ecne of Six Eyes and Dian Cécht the Healer attack Cathlenn, the Ceaseless Watcher and Nemed, the Coughing Prince at the same time. Dian Cécht, armed with a pair of knuckle dusters, slams them into the face of Nemed, sending the insect-like man flying before chasing after. Ecne and Cathlenn have a silent standoff that seems to last an eternity before a great wound appears across Ecne's chest just as Cathlenn's arm is cleaved from her body. Both the Six-Eyes and the Ceaseless watcher take flight, one chasing the other but neither attacking the other, but still wounds appear and are healed across their forms.

Cichol, hearing the order of Indech, turns to the downed boy and smiles a bloody horn as his hands open. Blood begins to gather and form into six deadly blades before the Bloody Piper charges at the boy with maddened glee that was eager to tear into something.

Cernunnos falls from the heavens, riding a bolt of lightning, and crashes into his old enemy. Gnoll roars as his back breaks and then heals before Cernunnos' spear severs Gnoll's spine. The Horned God then grabs the ancient fear by its own horns before he throws the beast through three walls and charges after it with a laugh that sounds like thunder claps.

Clíodhna appears in a tower of fire, armed with sword and shield, armored in ghostly white armor. Her hair flowed wild and free and floated around her head as if she was in the waters of a loch. She lets out a high pitched war cry that could shatter glasses before lashing out at Regan, the one alone with burning flames that dissipates the mist that surrounds the monster. Regan wouldn't stand for it and lashed out with his own icy claws before being slammed in the chest with Clíodhna's shield before being blasted back and out of the chamber with a banshee's shriek.

Aengus appeared in, dressed in nothing but a bratt and armored kilt, Warhammer in hand and cocked back before swinging it with all his might and fury at a Formorian made of stone, mud, and choking dust. Bagna, the coffin takes the blow full force to the chest and Aengus sends the stone like Formorian flying, shattering his Warhammer with the blow. The God of Youth and Love holds out his hand and screams "Another!" And fresh from the forge flames of the Trí Dé Dana another Warhammer appears in his hand, still red hot from the forges.

Omna, the Viscera's, a being of flesh and meat that looked like a crudely stitched together human made from animal parts, form begins to twist and bulge. Its form becomes a marse of flesh and mouths drive forward at the God of Youth, looking to take a bite or two out of Aengus. But the God of Love and Youth's weapon didn't not shatter from Bagna's stone body, but from under his own great strength. So, with his Warhammer still aglow with the flames of the forge, Aengus swings again, and again, he sends another of the Formorians flying while breaking another weapon. "Another!" He cries as he takes off to where the monsters landed.

Cichol closes in on Harry, each step breaking the stone beneath his feet, the risen war raises his bloody weapons to bring down on Harry, to end the threat of Terminus. He lets out a mad howl that sounds like the pipers of wars long past from all three of his mouths as the Boy-Who-Lived looked up with eyes widening in fear.

But as Cichol comes down on Harry, Crows feathers begin to scatter in between the two, and from the shadows step The Morrígan. Dressed head to toe in armor as back at the night sky, screaming faces of warriors decorate her armor, each face twisted from a painful and fated death they had met on the battlefield. The Morrígans cold black eyes look into the bloody and mad eyes of the Slaughter without fear before she raises her right hand.

"Get the fuck away from my champion," The Phantom Queen says in a cold and unyielding voice before drawing her hand horizontally across the air.

Cichol is split in two, from just under his pecs his body is separated into two as well as four of his six arms are cleaved from his body. Black muck spilled like a wave from Cichol's body as it began to fall back until it wasn't, stilled and frozen in midair for a moment before its flesh and blood pulled itself back together. Cichol quickly rightens himself before it poises himself to charge at The Morrígan.

"I forgot how annoying it is to kill you cretins," The Morrígan mutters before raising her right hand and gestures it at the Slaughter. Sling stones, javelins, spears, arrows, bullets, and honest to gods cannon rounds rip through the body of Cichol, sending him flying. With her right hand, The Morrígan slashes her hand vertically downwards and once more splits the body of Cichol in twan as it flies through the opposite wall of the chamber. The Morrígan turns to Harry, her eyes ablaze with power, her face hidden behind a blackened mask of a human skull.

"What are you still doing here?" She snaps at her champion, anger in her tone. "You have failed your quest, get to the Order and leave, now!" She barks at him before turning back around and charging after Cichol.

Harry's face twists in anger from getting ordered around by The Morrígan before he begins to push himself to his feet. Movement at the end of the chamber catches his attention, a bent and crooked Formorian with fractal eyes looks across the way at him. It was sharp and bent in all the ways a human never should be, and looking at the repeating patterns of its eyes, Harry felt it nudge the Hunt in its mind. The Monster known as Loscenn-lomm, the Twisting Deceit, smiles as the Hunt growls with hunger in Harry's mind. Harry's head snaps to his left and watches Voldemort begin to stand as well, with an echoing from the twisting corridors and stairways of it's realm and the soft click of a closing door that was never there, the man upon the stairs was never there either.

Both Harry and Voldemort were battered and beaten, bloody and covered in dirt, but none of that stopped the looks of visceral hatred they sent to one another. Harry grits his teeth, his amber eyes snap to his wand that had been blasted to the door of the chamber by The Dagda's attack before he looks back at Voldemort. The Hunt roaring in his veins like a sickness, Harry decides to hell with The Morrígans orders, he was killing the monster tonight.

Harry makes a break for his wand, he needed a weapon, any weapon, and his wand was the best one for the Hunt at hand. But Voldemort was still quicker with his own wand, snatching the willow wand with his magic and flung it farther into the chamber. "No!" Harry cries and tries to jump and catch his wand, but as he does, a cord of steel is transfigured and snakes around his ankles, binding them together and dragging him to the ground.

"I don't think so, Potter!" Voldemort snaps at him before leveling his wand at the frantically thrashing Harry, trying to escape the steel cord. "This ends now! AVADA KADAVRA!" The Dark Lord screams as the deathly pale green light of the killing curse fills the chamber, the great rushing sound of oncoming death echoes throughout it.

Harry looks at his oncoming death, the familiar rage and pain of his scar that comes whenever someone uses the spell near him shoots through him. The feelings that are both foreign and familiar to him are buried under the panic and fear of death, his eyes clenched shut, not willing to face or accept his own death.

Mag Turied


"Oh, you've got to be kidd-" Voldemort starts to yell before Harry hears a bone shattering thawp! As Voldemort screams in pain.

"Harry!" The familiar voice of his godfather shouts, Harry eyes snap open to see the destroyed remains of a stone block that had blocked the killing curse before he turns over to see Sirius running up to him with his wand out.

"Sirius!?" Harry called back, relief washing over him for a moment before he looked back over to where Voldemort was standing, only to see his sister, Atalanta, with a glare set firmly on her face and her bow notched and aimed at the dark lord. He follows to where she was looking and sees Voldemort gripping a no doubt broken arm from where he blocked one of Atalanta's kicks. And for once, Voldemort was no longer looking at Harry with barely hiddened contemptment, if looks could kill, Atalanta would be dead a thousand times over. But Atalanta weathers the glare from the Dark Lord, standing before him in unflinching defiance of Voldemort for the one thing that mattered more than anything else to her.

"Hold still, Harry," Sirius says before vanishing the steel cord wrapped around Harry's legs and helping him back to his feet. "Come on," Sirius says as he begins to pull Harry toward the door. "Atalanta! We've got him, let's go while the going is good!" He calls out as Voldemort switches his wand from his broken arm to his healthy one.

"What? No!" Harry says before ripping his arm free from Sirius grasp.

"Harry! We do not have time to argue this!" Sirius hisses at him, his eyes never leaving Voldemort's hunched form. "The gods are going three rounds with horrors I don't want to even think about. We have a fae-gate that Fleur and Bill set up, so we are leaving, now!" Sirius says as he watches Voldemort fix the shattered bones in his arm before grabbing Harry by the collar of his jacket.

"No!" Harry screams, once again tearing himself away from Sirius. "He's right here, just as trapped on this island as we are. We may never get this chance again, it's our best chance to kill him, we kill him here, we end this tonight and we'll worry about the Formorians later," Harry says with a snarl, his eyes never leaving the monster that had hounded him his whole life.

"Harry-" Sirius begins to say.

"-is right," Atalanta finishes, eyes never leaving Voldemort as the Dark Lord takes them in with various degrees of hatred.

"What? No," Sirius hisses at Atalanta, his temper finally showing as he tries to get the two people he cares about the most out of harm's way.

"If we don't take this opportunity here and now, we may never get another shot at him like this again," Atalanta says, her voice cold and flat as she watches Voldemort stand back to his full height.

"You think you can kill me?" Voldemort says with a sneer, his red eyes blazing with rage as he takes in Atalanta. "Like you killed Nagini?"

"Who?" Atalanta asks with a raised brow.

"My snake," Voldemort answers with a hiss of rage.

Atalanta blinks, a look of confusion crosses over her face for a moment before her eyes widen in recognition before the sumggest look over takes her face as she smiles at the Dark Lord. "I didn't just kill it, I also had two sets of snakeskin cowboy boots made from her hide and sent them to my sisters," she says with a grin that would make Cait-Sith proud.

A look of horror passes over Voldemort's face for a single moment before rage overcomes him once more before he lets out a primal scream of rage before he levels his wand at Atalanta.

"Now watch, as my arrow-"


The killing curse is sent screaming at Atalanta before she could finish her chant, she releases her arrow early to intercept the curse. At the same moment Harry takes off in a blur of speed, heading toward his spear left in the pillar to the left of the room.

"Harry! No!" Sirius screams but his attention is quickly turned back to Voldemort and Atalanta, Voldemort has started to try and kill Atalanta in earnest as he releases a chain of curses at the older hunter. Atalanta dodged and waved through most of them before Sirius started to counter them as they came. Voldemort sends out a wide cleaving curse causing Atalanta to leap over it as she draws another arrow and Sirius to dive to the ground. Harry almost makes it to the pillar before his sixth-sense screams at him to duck, narrowly avoiding the curse from Voldemort. Before he could fully pick himself back up, he watches as the pillar is ripped from the ground and flung behind Voldemort by the monster himself.

"Shit," Harry curses as he scrambles to his feet and turns to charge at Voldemort. "Looks like we do this the Nuadha way," Harry thinks to himself as he charges the monster.

Atalanta notches another arrow as Sirius gets back to his feet. She opens her mouth to recite her chant, but the bastard is just too quick and Voldemort releases another barrage of dark curses and jinxes. Sirius shields and counters as much as he could but Atalanta is once again forced to abandon her chant to fire off three more arrows in quick succession. Voldemort defends against the arrows by defecting them with a wave of his hand, and barely has time to look to his side before Harry's fist digs into his side. Voldemort feels his ribs snap under the blow as it knocks the wind out of him, but with a twist of his wand he sends the boy flying away from him.

Voldemort quickly heals his ribs before he's forced to shadow-steps away as another three arrows and several spells parse right by where he stood. He reappears right beside Atalanta, who turns on her heel to face the Dark Lord and jumps away to give herself a better shot. Voldemort lashes out with a cleaving curse but frowns as Atalanta angles her bow and blocks it. Voldemort frowns before reaching out with his free hand and quickly casts the disarming charm, causing the bow to fly from her hands as his wand aims at where Harry was running to. The Snaring Spell catches the boy by the ankle before with a flick of his hand, Voldemort sends Harry flying away from his wand. The Dark Lord brings his weapon of choice and sends another curse at the other hunter, only for the counter curse to be cast by Sirius before the blood traitor begins his own barrage of spells at Voldemort.

"Sirius! My wand!" Harry calls out as he gets back to his feet.

"Kinda busy at the moment!" Sirius yells back as he and Voldemort fell into a heated exchange of spells, one that the mad hound was decidedly losing. Thankfully he wasn't alone, in a burst of blinding speed Atalanta appeared at Voldemort's side and before the Dark Lord could react, Atalanta unleashed a flurry of blows. Left hooks and right jabs found home in Voldemort's ribs and side along with the side of his head in the short span of two seconds. "Accio!" Sirius quickly screams, trying to summon his godson's wand to him.

"NO!" Voldemort internally screams before in one quick motion, he catches Atalanta's next punch with the palm of his hand, surprising even himself with his speed and strength. His wand arm lashes out, knocking the willow wand away from the boy before bringing his wand up to send a cleaving curse at the older hunter. He also kills her too, but Sirius, at the last possible second, summons the girl away to where the curse only clips her thigh. When Atalanta screams, Voldemort allows himself only a moment to relish the scream before turning his attention back to the fight and quickly summons the boy backwards and away from his wand he was diving for.

Voldemort raises his free hand to swat away two curses set his way by Sirius before Shadow-Stepping once more away from the three people trying to kill him. He stops only for a moment, never taking his eyes off the two hunters and the blood traitor as he grips his wand and feels the rush of magic through his body healing it. His eyes darted between the three, a frown engrained deep on his face because they were right about one thing, he was just as stuck on this island as they were.

Voldemort watches as Sirius pulls the woman who killed Nagini to her feet, she brushes off his concern about her leg but Voldemort could see that she was bleeding quite a bit and favoring her other leg as she stood. He let out a ragged breath, Voldemort was starting to feel the drain, his body was sore and ached in phantom pain from all the broken bones. He had to finish this soon, he had to finish it now. He had given his followers enough time to get away, he held, mostly, back on his most destructive spells for the sake of the ritual and their continued usefulness.

But no longer.

He had to keep the wand and spear away from the boy, if he got his hands on either, this battle would become something untenable, even for him. "Let's try this again," Voldemort says with a growl and watches as his three opponents tense in preparation.

With a whirl of his wand, Voldemort begins a storm of destruction. Fiendfyre lept from the tip of his wand, lines of lightning struck with a cadence, Basilisk venom was conjured in forms of great serpents. Curses of all kinds were sent out in-between it all as the thoughts of collateral damage all but left the Dark Lord. But still the three annoyances were able to duck, dodge, dance, and shield from the worst of it, saving one another from Voldemort's wanton destruction. And all the while the Dark Lord, Sirius, and Harry fought a war over Harry's wand.

Voldemort played the most one-sided game of keep-a-way with the wand, he had tried to banish it into the fiendfyre and Basilisk Venom but every time it would get close either the older hunter or Black would save it.

It was infuriating for the Dark Lord.

Harry had abandoned his wand in favor of his spear, trying to keep Voldemort's attention split between the three of them. Harry dodged to the side to avoid the Basilisk venom before leaping over the grasping and striking serpents of cursed flame as he charged across the chamber as fast as his legs could carry him. But somehow, Voldemort was just as quick with his wand as he sent a cleaving net curse at him. Harry covers his head and jumps, making himself as small as possible as he does. Harry slams into the net, he feels the curse bite into him but thankfully his armor protected him from the worst of it. He lands into a roll and feels as his life blood spells from him, but nothing missing thankfully.

Harry looks behind him to see Voldemort level his wand at him, but at the same time, Atalanta had made it to the monster. She wraps her arm around his neck and grabs his wand arm and forces it away from Harry as the killing curse flies from Voldemort's wand and destroys one of the last remaining walls. Harry turns back to his spear, it laid under the rubble of the pillar he had stabbed it into.

"Crucio!" Voldemort roars with pure hatred that was quickly followed by Atalanta's scream of pain. Harry spins around, his eyes wide as he sees Voldemort pulling Atalanta to the ground by the collar of her jacket, his wand raised and poised to strike with a vindictive glee in his red serpentine eyes.

"Accio!" Sirius cries, summoning Atalanta to him by her belt and pulling her from her jacket. Voldemort roars in fury before sending the killing curse at them, but as soon as Sirius catches the huntress, he drops to the ground with her to avoid it.

Harry turns back to his spear at the same time Voldemort turns back to him. The monster watches as the boy dives for his spear but with a yank of his wand he summons the golden spear toward him.

"If you want the spear that bad, Potter!" Voldemort roars as his spins in place, controlling the spear as he does. "Then pull it out of their corpses!" He rages before banishing the golden rose of mortality right at Atalanta and Sirius who had since stood back up.

"Don't let it hit you!" Harry screams as Voldemort's laughter begins to echo across the island. Atalanta, still shaking from the torture curse, throws herself to the side, but Sirius is not nearly as quick as them. He tries to defect the blade, only to narrowly avoid it punching through his heart, instead the blade rips through his side and cleanly punches through him.

Sirius' screams of pain are cut off by Harry's roar of rage as he slams into the back of the monster, wrapping his arm around his neck and legs around his midsection. Harry begins to choke and pull at Voldemort's head, using his legs as leverage while he tries to rip the dark lord's head from his shoulders. Atalanta appears in a slow burst of speed, grabbing Voldemort's wand arm and kicks him in the ribs breaking a few of them as she tries to rip his arm off with all the might of the Hunt.

Voldemort feels his wand arm begins to give as it was being wretched from its socket. He lets go of his wand and with his free hand summons it to his open hand, he levels it and with hate burning in his eyes, he serves his own arm. Voldemort would have screamed if it wasn't for Harry choking him, as Atalanta falls backwards, Voldemort banishes her across the room before quickly regrowing his arm. He grabs Harry's arm and begins to pull down with surprising strength to free his larynx before aiming his wand at the boy on his back.

"Crucio!" Voldemort shouts with a hoarse voice before Harry's screams of pain fills what was left of the chamber. Voldemort feels Harry's arms loosen as he reaches up and grabs the little bastard by the throat. With all his might, Voldemort rips Harry's body from him, flipping him over his shoulders and slamming him into the rubble below his feet. "Just! Fucking! DIE!" Voldemort roars as he tries to cut Harry's head from his shoulders with a cleaving curse.

Only for the boy to be saved at the last possible second! Summoned away by Sirius who was back on his feet, his teeth gritted and face set in a grim determination. Sirius' hands were already moving as he tried to, once again, summon Harry's wand.

"NO!" Voldemort yells before conjuring a wand between Sirius, who was already running toward the wand flying through the air towards him, and the willow wand that would spell Voldemort's doom. The wand hits the wall as Voldemort waves his wand in an upwards motion, barbed spears explode from the floor, skewering the legs of Sirius.

Sirius lets out a scream of pain as he feels the barbed spears rip through his legs, he hears Harry screaming his name, and he sees Voldemort letting loose another blast of curse fire directly at him.

The mad hound of the Black's turns to see Harry rushing to save him, but Sirius knows he would be too late and would only be caught in the flames as well.

And just like in the moonlit clearing, two years ago, Sirius Black's body moved on its own.

He levels his wand at Harry, his intent clear, and his mind focused on the one thing he needed to do.

Sirius banishes Harry away from him, smiling as his godson lands outside of the range of the cursed flames as they consume him, leaving nought but ash behind.

The Morrígan.

Her battle with Cichol wasn't going well, the savage slaughter was incredibly hard to put down for any length of time without help. She had torn him apart numerous times with fated wounds that would have killed any number of the other Formorians, but Cichol fed on the carnage faster then she could deal it out. They were lucky to take Balor by surprise like they did, it allowed them to split the Formorians between them as best they could. But while some of The Morrígan's fellow gods were direct counters to some of the fears, Cichol didn't have one, so he was tricky to deal with even at the best of times.

For one must always expect a slaughter during a war.

The six arms and bloody weapons of Cichol flash under the moonlight as The Morrígan dodges them as best she could, she feels the spear he held pierce her side with a shower of golden ichor. The Morrígan slashes the spear in two before sending a rapid barrage of bullets and cannon fire to tear through Cichol. She really had to give it to the mortals, they truly cooked up the best weapons of war when embroidered in one. She haves before quartering Cichol as he flies through the air and away from her, The Morrígan falls to one knee, before pushing what remained of Cichol spear from her body.

The wound closes with a sizzle as her armor repaired itself, she closes her eyes and focuses on the war raging around her. Her beloved was deadlocked with Conand in pitched battle, Brigid was calling upon foreign divine power to carve away at her ex-husband, Bres. Clíodhna has managed to wound and trap Regan, Cernunnos and Gnoll were chasing each other's tails, while Ence had chased off Cathlenn and was moving to help Aengus. But it was Nuadha and Lugh she was worried about the most, in the dark of night was where Indech was the most dangerous and nether Lugh or Nuadha has been able to land a solid hit on the slimy fuck.

The rest of the Dé Danann were more or less in the same situation that she was in, dead locked in pitched battle. She focuses on the mortals, most of the Death Eaters have made it off the islands by forcing the Mercenaries they had hired to fight the Order. A few of the lesser Formorians also were caught in that battle, swarming in like ants to devour the potent fears of battle.

Harry was still fighting Voldemort.

That brought a smile to The Morrígans face, she was worried the boy would have listened to her and done a runner. But the boy was hard headed and fought tooth and nail against anyone telling him what he could and couldn't hunt. He had ignored her orders to go after his prey. "Good, keep at it Harry, wear him down," The Morrígan thinks to herself as she opens her eyes.

Two things then catch The Morrígan's attention. First was the scarlet and orange strike cutting across the sky like a comet, heading toward where Lugh and Nuadha fought Indech. The second was the thick mist that was swiftly moving across the islands and the sense of unyielding rage it brought with it.

"It seems the ICE and Dumbledore have finally shown up," The Morrígan thinks as her eyes track the comet. "But what the hell is Manannán doing here?" She wonders to herself. Manannán wasn't known to take part in any conflicts, he did not take sides, he helped usher the dead to Tir Tairngire, nothing more. But before she could even speculate on what brought the old man of the sea to the shores of Mag Turied, Cichol stands back up. His three faces smile at her as glee dances in his eyes, The Morrígan scoffs at the sight before turning back to the risen war. "What are you waiting for, Cichol? An invitation!? Come with it!" She roars ever definent. For a single second, The Morrígan considers using a nuclear blast, but discards the thought. "Too many useful people would be caught in the blast,"

Cichol answers her roar with his own as he charges again, swapping his bloody spears for axes and hammers as if they were going to save him. The Morrígan raises her hands once more to continue her battle when she feels it.

A mixture of both divine and mortal magic twists around her in a way only a magician can do. Blood red spears fold themselves into existence, armed and ready, before with blinding speed they fire like a howitzer shell right at Cichol. The barbed red spears rip through the fear of slaughter as The Morrígan turns around, her eyes wide with shock.

Scáthach pulls her bloody form from writhing, thorny shadows that cling to her and tear away at her flesh. Her blood was a muted gold ran counter to the inky black veins that ran under her pale skin. Her blood leaked from everywhere, her eyes, her nose, her ears, her mouth, and even her fingernails. Her face was set in anger, her black eyes were a light with a rare rage for the goddess of swift death and she looked to be a woman possessed as she tore herself free from the shadows.

Soundless rage left Scáthach's mouth as she opened it as to scream, her divine armaments aglow in her hand pulsing with unrestrained bloodlust. Then, Scáthach charges, and for one heart stopping second, The Morrígan thought that Scáthach was coming for her.

"Gaé-" Scáthach roars, dashing past The Morrígan, her rage and hatred on full display as she reminds the Formorians on the islands- "Bolg!" -That there was still one living daughter of Tethra and how she had killed him.

Scáthach sends both the Gaé Bolg and Cichol flying away from her, her divine spear piercing the heart of the Formorians as the curse of Dún Scaith renders his body to pulp. Scáthach takes a deep breath, and on shaky legs turns to face The Morrígan. "Where is Harry?" She asks with a snarl, blood falling from her mouth as she speaks.

The Morrígan takes a slight step back from the enraged and rabid goddess. Never in all her years of knowing the Witch-Queen of the land of shadows, has The Morrígan ever seen her in such a state, not after the death of her nephew, not even after the death of Cú Chulainn. But as she opens her mouth to answer Scáthach, something else happens, something she had not expected nor could ever plan for.

Reality around her shudders, as if something presses against the very atmosphere, splitting it and wrenching it open so it could parse through and into their world. Something powerful, something big, something that should not care about one tiny blue planet orbiting a star in the arse crack of the cosmos, was coming here willingly.

Both Scáthach and The Morrígan freeze before, as one, their heads snap skyward and they watch as the shadow of a much bigger fish blots out the moon and all the stars in the sky.

"Well, that's gonna throw a wrench in the plans," The Morrígan thought to herself as she looked up at the endless black sky with awe and fear.

Harry Potter.


Harry wasn't sure who screamed as he watched the ash float down onto molten stone. It didn't feel real, it shouldn't be real, it couldn't be real, he felt the Hunt roar in his mind but if felt distant, not even an echo really. He didn't feel here, it's as if it was some horrible movie he was watching from the outside of his own body.

Because Sirius was…

(The front door slams shut.)

Sirius was…


He was…

(Slam! Slam! Slam!)

"And that's one!" The monster roars with a laughter of mad slaughter, his head thrown back in his joy.

"YOU COCKSUCKER!" Atalanta screams in her rage before charging The monster in her rage. Harry can hear her heartbreak in her scream for vengeance, it causes him to look away from- (Slam!) -and turn to scream for her to stop, to run, but he chokes on the words as his mind whirls. Because- (Slam!) -He scrambles to his feet, but it didn't feel right, like he was trying to move legs that weren't his own.

The monster turns to the charging lioness, a smile hooking onto his face, he dodges the first right only to take a left hook to his liver. Harry tries once more to scramble to his feet, trying to get to his sister, but the ground slides underneath him as if the world had spun. Sirius is (Slam!). The Monster wizzes from the blow, but is able to aim his wand as Atalanta.

"Crucio!" The monster gags out, causing Atalanta to shriek in pain, Harry is finally able to get his legs under him and starts to run, but he feels slow and unsteady. The monster banishes Atalanta away from him, just like Sirius did to him before he- (Slam!) -Atalanta slams into the half melted wall that the monster had conjured to stop Sirius from getting his wand with a crunch.

"Atalanta!" Harry yells, but it came out weak and distant to him, like it had come from somewhere far away. The monster turns to him, his eyes shine like malevolent rubies in the cursed fire and with a wave of his wand, the floor comes alive. Harry tried to dodge, to leap and roll out of the way, but everything he did was sluggish and too slow.

Too slow to save- (Slam!)

The stonework wraps around Harry's right leg and arm in the form of a monstrous serpent. "No!" He yells, but it feels weak and empty, hollow and distant to his ears. He screams out in pain as he feels the stone crush his leg into pulp as the other part holds him up by his arm. He looks up at Atalanta pushing herself off the ground, one arm hanging uselessly by her side, not even six feet away, he sees his own pain reflected in her eyes.

"Don't worry, Potter," the monster all but purrs as he struts over to them, his victory all but assured to him. "I'm not as cruel as to make you watch her die. No, she'll die last," he says with a smile. "And she'll die screaming for killing Nagini, oh, yes," he says with glee and a hollow laugh.

"But you die here, I end this now," the monster says, throwing Harry's own words back at him as the monster levels his wand at him. "Goodbye, Harry Potter. Avada Kadavra," he says the words like a solom parting as the rushing sound fills Harry's ears and pale green light blinds him to the world.

"NOOOOOOO!" Atalanta screams and with all her remaining strength pushes her body and forces her legs to move. For Atalanta could cross six feet in the blink of an eye, just like on the Quidditch field.

Harry feels something slam into him with the force of a charging lion, the stone that held his arm shatters as it wrenches his arm out of socket. He feels the rest of his leg, that was hanging on to the rest of his body be torn off as he and Atalanta fly backwards. They skid back a few feet before stopping, Atalanta laying on top of Harry, the shooting pain of his leg all but drowned out by the gaping wound that rips open across his chest.

"Atalanta," Harry says, his good arm wrapping around his sister, shaking her. "Atalanta, get up, we have to run," he says, panic sinking into his voice.

But Atalanta doesn't move.


"If I had a sickle-" the monster murmurs.

"Atalanta! Get up, we have to move!"

"For every time that a woman-"

"Atalanta! Atalanta! Get up! Move! Please!"

"Has died for you,-"


"Then I'd have two," the monster says as his shadow falls over Harry. "Which isn't much, but it is odd that it's happened twice now," he says with a tilt of his head, as if he was pondering the oddity of the universe. "A shame, I was looking forward to torturing her too," the monster says dismissively before waving his wand and tossing Atalanta off Harry and across the room.

"Atalanta!" Harry cries out, pushing himself up with his good arm, looking at the form of his sister laying still and peaceful, her eyes closed forever more. The monster reaches down and wraps his hand around Harry's throat, dragging him up and forcing him to look into his cold ruby eyes.

"What's wrong, Potter?" The monster asks mockingly. "One would think you're used to seeing death, don't tell me these are the two that you can't bear?" he says with a cold laugh. "Don't worry, Potter, you'll see them soon. But first, I think I'll put you to some use while you're still alive, you know something about that damnable prophecy yes? Well, since our odd little connection didn't work, let's see if I can get through the front door, hmm?" he says before leveling his wand toward Harry's face.


A moonlit field of snow.

He appears in the inner realm of the boy, it was just as Severus had told him, a rudimentary beginning with no true defense. The monster smiles as his eyes settle on a familiar house in the snowy forest. He would laugh if he didn't find it so pathetic that the boy would use the home of his abusers as a shield. He focuses and smashes through the front door, shattering it to pieces before his might. "Potter!" He screams in delight, "Where are you, boy? Where are you, you little freak!?" He mocks the boy before surging up the stairs. "Come out, come out wherever you are, freak! Let's play a game of Harry Hunting!" He says with a mad cackle, completely missing the cupboard under the stairs…

And the kitchen door opening.

"Well, can't say their nothing alike, always making messes wherever they go," a voice says as a girl walks into the breezeway of the home, eyeing the splinters that the front door was now in. Her chuckle is soft and light as snow as she walks over and kneels at the cupboard door, silence following in her wake. She can feel it, the pain, the heartbreak, the loss all radiating from the soul that has trapped itself within, and if she had a heart it would break for the boy. But all she does is smile softly and sadly, the fool didn't think the boy would hide himself in a place he thought he hated. But this house, the snowy field, and everything else was nothing more than set dressing for the real walls around the boy's heart and soul.

"Harrrrrrry," she calls just outside the cupboard door, just like so many times before.

"Potter! Where are you!?"

"Harry, I know you can hear me," she says softly, lovingly. "And I know it hurts,"


"But I'm here to help, like I always have," she tells him because it's true. How many times had she comforted him in the dark? How many times had she wiped away his tears when he was younger? "I know it hurts, I know. But I'm here to take it all away, no more pain, no more fighting, no more loss. Just us, just me, just…sleep," she tells him before bringing her hand to the cupboard door, quitting all his cries, ending all his pain, bringing him the peace that her Harry had fought so hard for. "But I need you to do something for me first," she says, removing her hand from the door and allowing the pain to return.

"Potter, you little shit! Stop hiding!" The fools feet start stomping down the hall once more, heading toward the stairs.

"I need you to Let Me In," she tells him, her smiling growing wider as the fool draws closer. "You have to open the door, you have to let me in. I can't force my way in because of your silly free will, you have to let me, Please Harry, he'll be here soon and I won't be able to stop him. Let me help, let me take it all away, Let Me In," she asks one more time as The fool's feet descend the stairs, and he rounds the corner to step into the breezeway…

The cupboard door pops open.

"Who the hell are you?" The fool snarls as he looks at the girl, before it hits him. He had seen her once before, so long ago in the memories of his own uncle. "What kind of-" he begins to say as the girl turns to him, a wide smile on her face as her eyes twinkle with a mad glee.

"Hello Tom, I'll be right with you," She says snidely before the fool is shoved, shoved from the house, shoved across the snowy field full of hares, and shoved from Her Harry's mind. The girl turns back to the open cupboard and takes in the small boy dressed in an oversized leather coat, hugging a wolf plushy to his chest. "There you are," the girl says breathlessly as she scoops up the too small boy and cradles him in her cold arms to her chest. "My Harry," she says before pressing her ice cold lips to his scar and closing the cupboard door with a faint click.


He wasn't just shoved from the boy's mind, he was shoved from the boy himself and with great force. Voldemort flies through the air, sailing back forty feet from the boy, rolling across the floor before rolling to a stop. His chest throbbed as if he was struck with a bludgeoning curse and his breaths were drawn in as great gaspes, he shivered, not in pain, but in how bloody cold he was. It froze his muscles, crawled into his bones, and ate at his nerves, he could see it in his breath and feel its claws around his heart. But still, the Dark Lord rose shakily to his feet and cast his eyes over to the boy, and he feels…nothing.

An ungodly, unnatural, and unending amount of nothingness.

His eyes widen as the boy pushes himself up by his good arm before he starts to laugh. It start off as a giggle before deepening, becoming distorted as if two people were laughing as one in the same cadence as the other.


It echoes cold around Voldemort as he takes an involuntary step backwards, as he hears the crunching of bones piecing themselves back together, the sickening pop of a shoulder being reseted.

All the while, the boy continues to laugh, the sound growing more mad by the second.

"Hahahahaha hahahahahahahaha!"

The boy lifts the foot that should be missing from it getting ripped off, but it was back, healed and restored to its fullest. Voldemort was baffled, the boy didn't have a wand, how could he do that without one! Even he needed one!

"Hahahahaha Ahahahahaah! Hahahahaha!"

It was then the boy lifts his head and looks at him, but his eyes were all wrong. They weren't the silver that the boy had fought him with, not the Amber ones that he slaughtered the Formorians with, or even the emerald green of Lily Potter. No, the boy looked at him with…

"Hello, Tom,"

{Fathomless Black Eyes}

Editor's note: he's posting it early because god fucking forbid I get a day off to myself.

A/N: I am impatient about these things and probably, more than likely, a bit autistic about it, as you know.

Chapter done!

When I started writing this story, I knew that whoever I put in the Leaky Cauldron was going to die and that they would sacrifice themselves for Harry.

It did not matter who, be it Sophie, Zoë, whoever. They would come to love and care for Harry very deeply, and in the end, they would give their life for him.

I could have made them so loathsome, so easily, to the point that some of you would have cheered at their death. But instead I wrote Atalanta as she is, so, when the time was right I would not only break my heart by killing her, but all of yours as well.

I'm going to go lay down for a while and cry now.

When the Lamb broke the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature saying, "Come and see."

Kingsaxcul, Out.