Full Summery :

Fear. Chaos. Panic has consumed the Wizarding World, and every day whispers of an attack are heard. The riots and rallies of times passed are now common place, and the threat presented by Reginald Ares has never seemed more real as he lurks in the shadows with his newly named " Diciples of Change", seemingly waiting for the opportune moment to srike. But beyond this a civil war is brewing, one that may be more disastrous than the war that everyone fears. The public has taken it's stand against the Ministry. For the first time in years, the word " Renegade" is being used.

But amidst all of this anarchy Albus Potter enters his fourth year of Hogwarts, where the castle stands as the only comfort he has in a world where his father is now a pariah. But in between strange, sadistic dreams that he can never seem to remember, and a new professor who seems to have a vendetta against Slytherin House, Albus finds the safe haven of Hogwarts more hectic than ever. And though he has his friends to depend on, the year is made all the more terrifying when he learns that he's in more danger than he thought. Someone- for some reason- has a price on his head. And someone's looking to collect, too.

Chapter 1: Vesnovitch

The waves crashed against the jagged rocks with tremendous force. The crackling of thunder was nearly drowned out by the sound of the rain pounding against the water, the ominous moonlight completing the picture of what was surely a foreboding place. In what was seemingly the middle of nowhere, in the very center of the ocean in which a storm was raging, a small island sat. There was a crack- not of thunder, but of something far more frightening. The sound of a wizard arriving.

A man now stood on the very edge of the island. The jagged rocks sat below him, the fierce winds blowing precariously, as if tempting him to go further. The man began walking through a trail of gargantuan trees, so wide in berth that they prevented the rain from drenching him anymore then he already was. He fought his way through the trees and bushes, pushing passed every single obstacle that nature presented him with. He finally reached a cavern that looked as though the entrance were sealed by solid rock. The man withdrew his wand, and at that very moment a flash of lightning illuminated the island.

For a single second Reginald Ares could be seen, his gray and wispy hair dangling in front of his face, some of it stuck to his cheeks from being sopping wet from the onslaught of rain. His cold and gray eyes blinked furiously at the sight of the cavern entrance, as if he were unsure if this were the correct one. After a moment he seemed to come to the conclusion that he was indeed at the right spot. With his now withdrawn wand- the Dragonfang Wand, the one that was so instrumental to his plans, he slashed the air. The cavern wall slid upwards at once revealing the entrance.

He entered the cavern and flicked his wand once more. The cavern wall slid closed again, blocking out the terrible sounds of the storm outside. A torch on the wall was lit simultaneously, and the light revealed a dirty and narrow hall. He slid through it and entered a much larger, but equally dirty room. His base of operations.

There were hooded figures scattered throughout the room, which was also illuminated by several torches hanging from the walls. There were perhaps fifty people in the room, all of them laughing or chatting as they were enjoying the dingy atmosphere. In the corner one of the men was so comfortable that he had taken his dark cloak off, and could be seen dressed in common, revealing clothes. With the sleeves of his shirt up an indiscernible scar could be seen on his forearm. It looked something like a faded skull. The hooded figure next to him was laughing merrily, a folded up newspaper in his hands.

Everyone turned to Ares as soon as he entered, though it was the man with the paper who spoke to him first.

"Red! Red!" he shouted, his voice impish and absolutely giddy. "Did you see the Prophet? They announced the new head Auror! Some nobody named Fischer! It's like they want to make it easier for us!"

A few people near him laughed. Ares paid the comment no mind. He aimed his golden wand at himself and in a single moment, his robes were crisp and his hair was no longer stuck to his face. He was completely dry. His mustache was quivering however, and now that his face could be seen, it was easy to tell that he was angry, or at least agitated. Something was not going his way.

"Did you Red?" the man repeated obsequiously. "And get this! That incompetent fool Weasley only got two percent of the vote! Hah!"

This time the entire room laughed, all but Ares, whose expression remained quite serious. The hooded figure with the newspaper meant to speak once more, but Ares cut him off.

"Not now Markson!" he barked, and his voice was so gruff and powerful that it put the thunder outside to shame.

Markson fell silent at once, as did all who were laughing. Ares began moving through the center of the room, and his henchmen- though they thought of themselves as followers- all backed up against the walls silently. They knew better than to engage him in conversation when he was furious.

Ares reached the end of the large room, and there was yet another concealed entrance here. With another casual flick of his wand, the stone barrier had raised itself up, and he was descending down poorly crafted stone cut stairs. The door behind him slid closed, concealing him entirely in darkness. There were no torches on the walls.

He continued to follow the seemingly endless set of stairs all the way to the bottom, where he reached a small chamber, completely circular and even grimier than what was directly above it. The small chamber was not quite as boring as the empty room above it however. In the very center there was a small stone pedestal, and on top of that, an enormous, thick, leather bound book.

Ares approached the Foulest Book and stared down at it, his face expressionless. He opened it up and began flipping through it randomly; the pages were so thick that they emitted dust when they were turned. Right when he had reached the page that he wanted, his placed his golden wand in the crease of the Book, where it sat nestled between the two sides of pages. He stepped back.

He then cleared his throat loudly and, in a tone that sounded odd coming from his gruff and deep voice, began muttering strange incantations in almost a singing voice. None of the words were of any recognizable language, though the last one seemed to be a name, as he bellowed it angrily.


Nothing happened. Ares remained motionless, the echo of his final word reverberating around the room. It was just about to die out when something happened. The Book began to glow a faint blue color, and suddenly, despite there being no wind in the room, the pages began blowing. Ares watched, his expression still unreadable, as a ghostly figure emerged from the book.

The figure was entirely white and wispy, almost intangible. Only its upper half was protruding from the glowing blue book, and once Ares adjusted his eyes to the intense light, he could make out a man. The man had a very thin face and high cheek bones. His hair was long and curly, and though it was as white as the rest of him, it showed hints of having been something like auburn when he was alive. The man wore small circular spectacles, of which his beady little eyes sat behind, eyeing Ares with contempt. Judging from the man's robes, which seemed to be made of fur, it was easy to see that he was from somewhere cold.

"You rang?" the ghostly figure said in a thick, distinctive Russian accent. His voice sounded irritated, as though he would not be where he was if given the choice.

"You lied to me Vesnovitch" Ares said menacingly.

Vesnovitch raised a ghostly eyebrow and continued to survey him. "Excuse me?" he asked.

Ares grabbed the Dragonfang Wand from off of the Book, and for a moment Vesnovitch flickered. He did not fade however- it seemed as though the Foulest Book was capable of supporting him alone now.

"You lied" Ares repeated through gritted teeth. He then raised the wand up high. "This wand does not obey me. I get no power from it, no control-"

"Then it does not belong to you" Vesnovitch said simply. "Earn it."

"It does belong to me!" Ares spat viciously. "I own it! It respects me! I can create them! It's just-"

"The Wand is deceitful by design" Vesnovitch said coolly. "And it is, for the sake of the conversation, an incomplete product."

"So it's faulty then?" Ares said, his face going white.

"Not faulty, no" Vesnovitch said. "Incomplete. I based its design off of the Deathstick. Not in power of course, such power cannot be replicated. But the wand chooses the wizard, such a statement is not a stable amongst wand makers for nothing."

"So it chooses its master differently than most wands" Ares said. "I know this. But the wand does respect me. It just doesn't work properly in some cases."

"Then it doesn't respect you" Vesnovitch said, his tone suggesting that he was relatively pleased with the situation. "Either that, or it only respects you partially."

"Partially?" Ares asked.

The ghostly image of Vesnovitch fell silent, apparently deep in thought. It raised its hand to its chin and seemed to rub thin air.

"It is not unheard of for wands to take two masters."

"But this is no ordinary wand!" Ares spat angrily. "Everything I've learned about it indicates just how unordinary it is! Surely, the regular rules do not apply-"

"You are still thinking of the wand's initial design" Vesnovitch said. "The design based off of the Wand of Destiny. But whereas that wand seeks power- and only the most powerful can utilize it-"

"But I am powerful" Ares said gruffly, his teeth gritted. "This wand has never been held by one like me, I can assure you. Every choice that I have made has been chosen for a singular reason, I've taken every opportunity to possess more power, whether it is as a wizard or as a human being! As a leader!"

Vesnovitch clicked his tongue impatiently, and then made a patronizing noise. For a second he seemed like he was going to laugh, though he maintained his composure.

"The living" he said, and he sounded disgusted. "Oh how foolish they are... Perhaps when they are dead, they will understand. Choosing power is insignificant when compared to the power of choice. There is more to a wizard than raw talent."

"Don't feed me that garbage!" Ares said angrily. "I did not summon you for a lecture on human values! I summoned you for answers!"

"Then don't cut me off and accuse me of not knowing what I'm talking about" Vesnovitch said icily, and Ares fell silent. "As I was saying, it is highly uncommon, though not impossible for a wand to take two masters. Typically there would already be some connection between them, but in this particular case, the Dragonfang Wand may be confused, and is thus splitting its powers."

"But no one else has had it!" Ares said. "I am the only one to use this wand!" he added, waving the brilliantly golden wand in front of Vesnovitch's transparent face.

"If I may speak" came a voice from behind Ares.

Ares turned around and squinted his eyes to see who was there. From the light radiating from the Foulest Book he could make out a hooded figure, it was one of his servants. On closer inspection he saw exactly who it was.

"What are you doing here Sebastian?" Ares asked his brother, his voice both curious and frustrated. His question seemed more of a demand for answers than anything however.

"Merely listening" Sebastian Darvy said, his electric blue eyes flickering maliciously in the light from the center of the room. He pulled his hood down and revealed his filthy mane of blonde hair. "I could not help but hear our dear deceased friend mentioning something of interest..."

"I sealed the door behind me" Ares said darkly.

Darvy ignored this. "The wand having two owners is an interesting theory indeed. You recall, I hope, the conversation that we had not too long ago? About a certain incident-"

"Not again!" Ares barked, rolling his eyes. Vesnovitch was now silent, picking at his intangible fingernails and listening to the two brothers bicker. "For the last time Sebastian, I refuse to allow you to blame your blunders on ancient magic! You were bested by a thirteen year old boy, deal with it!

"You don't understand-" Darvy tried to rebuttal, but Ares heaved a tremendous sigh that cut him off.

"You don't understand" he said irritably. "Children sometimes perform incredible feats of magic when in danger. What you described is nothing of interest. I would have hoped that you would have dealt with it better, but that is irrelevant."

"You weren't there!" Darvy said loudly, and he seemed to have taken his brother's words to heart. "You didn't see him! His eyes glowing gold, speaking in strange tongues-"

"I'm not doing this with you now" Ares said, turning around on the spot, his cloak sweeping across the ground and raising dust. Darvy stared at him angrily and looked for a moment as though he wanted to say something, to continue the argument, but eventually decided against it.

" As I was saying" Ares said to Vesnovitch, who still wore his bored expression and seemed more interested in the fingers that were not there then whatever it was Ares had to say. "I am the only one in decades who has used the Dragonfang Wand. It was kept concealed for years. I am the only one who could have possibly earned the wand's respect, and it shows. I can summon these creatures, these...these..."

He seemed to be unsure as what to call them.

"Inferi?" Darvy spoke up, still behind his brother.

"Not Inferi" Vesnovitch said calmly. "They are not reanimated corpses. They are creatures who are all but worthless, beings whose souls have left them but are still bound to this earth by their insatiable desire for the Wand. For all intents and purposes, they are the barbaric predecessor to what you wizards call Dementors. Only unlike those foul beasts, they obey a single master and do not attack the soul, but rather the body."

"But they don't obey me!" Ares said. "I summon them, but I must destroy them immediately afterwards!"

Vesnovitch merely heaved a sigh. "Then the Wand is split in two. You can summon these beasts, though they obey another."

"That is impossible" Ares said forcefully, his teeth grinding against each other for maximum effect.

"Well I don't know why you called me if you don't plan on listening to me" Vesnovitch said dryly. "Honestly, disturbing me for no reason..."

"Fine!" Ares said. "Then away with you....for now."

Ares waved the Dragonfang Wand and the Book snapped itself shut. The blue light began to fade and the image of Vesnovitch began to flicker.

"Do svidaniya" Vesnovitch said sarcastically, and eventually he disappeared completely. The blue light faded entirely, leaving Ares alone in the dark chamber with his brother.

"What a waste" Darvy spoke up savagely the moment that Vesnovitch was completely gone. "All of that work to get the damn book, and it doesn't even give us answers!"

"It gave us answers" Ares said, turning to him. "Just not the answers that we need. Vesnovitch is under the delusion that I have been careless and allowed someone else to use the Wand; he does not know how meticulous I am. I will have to discover its faults by myself, it seems."

"How do you know he wasn't lying?" his brother asked him. "Ghosts are known to hide things, and he's not very fond of us, is he?"

"He is an echo, not a ghost" Ares corrected him. "And he has no reason to lie. I doubt that the dead concern themselves very much with the living; if they did he would understand why it is so important that I uncover his wand's secrets. And what's more, so long as we have the Book we are a constant nuisance. He understands the only way to be rid of me is to give me what I want..."

There were several moments of silence after this, where Darvy seemed to teeter on the thought of saying something. Only when Ares had turned back around did he speak.

"And you're sure?" Darvy asked hesitantly. "About-"

"I am positive" Ares cut him off. "And that is the last we will speak of the matter, understood?"

Darvy's face turned a faint shade of pink, and he stepped backwards so as to the let the darkness of the room conceal it, despite his brother not looking at him anyway.

"Don't talk to me like I'm some servant" Darvy said darkly. "You may have the idiots above us fooled into thinking that you're some dark wizard, but I know your real intentions, I know what you really are!"

"You're right!" Ares said furiously, spinning around so fast that his cloak made a whirling sound. "You're not a servant! Servants actually do their jobs correctly!"

Darvy threw up his arms in anger. "This again!" he said. "You got the Book didn't you?"

"Indeed I did, due to my own prodigious skill" Ares said. "You were tasked with bringing me the Potter boy, and what did you do? Brought along some silly little girl with him! Then you were supposed to keep an eye on the younger one, and you failed to do that as well! Perhaps I'll start giving Fango your tasks! At least he is efficient!"

Darvy sneered. "Fango Wilde is a coward. He fled the battle at the Ministry when that scarred Auror showed up, he fears vengeance. I stayed, I fought! And you wouldn't even have Fango Wilde if not for me! Who turned him to our side? Me! Who concocted the Polyjuice Potion that got them off of his tail! Me! You need my potioneer expertise-"

Ares gave a derisive laugh that quickly turned itself into a scowl. "You think too highly of yourself. You were nothing when I found you Sebastian, nothing. Just a man with a knack for mixing liquids. You'd be a bartender if I hadn't found you. If I hadn't saved you from the pathetic and mundane redundancy that you called a life!"

Darvy looked as though he had been slapped in the face. He ran his hands through his blonde hair and made an angry noise, though he seemed unable, or possibly unwilling, to say what he wanted to say.

Ares' lips curled into a smile of satisfaction at his brother's silence. "Now leave me to my thoughts" he said, coldness etched into his gruff voice.

Darvy turned on the spot and began walking up the set of stone stairs, muttering incoherently the entire way. Only when Ares heard the stone door seal itself once more did he turn and let his mind wander. He stared down at the golden wand in his hand.

This wand was just another way that fate had robbed him. What with the muggle blood that flowed through veins, making him an incomplete wizard. With the adopted parents who had forbidden him to have an education, to let the extent of his powers flourish. And here this wand was, a wand that, according to legend, would make him a leader. Would not just let him reach his full potential, but would allow him to rule an army...would allow him to change the world that he knew desperately needed change. And it wasn't even working properly.

He thought savagely of Potter, for it was Potter, after all, who had told him about the Wand in the first place, though he of course had not known the potential repercussions. Potter, who had been more of a mentor to him than anyone else. Potter, who had taught him and respected him, Potter, who was blinded by the insufferable enigma that was morality, who refused to acknowledge that sometimes the right thing to do was the hardest thing as well. Potter, who would ultimately, and regretfully, have to die for his plans to come to fruition...

He continued to gaze at the Dragonfang Wand, and he felt the black fang that was a handle burn within his fist as if tempting him to try again, just one more time. Yes, it knew that he was its master. One more try, then.

He raised the Wand high above his head and began muttering strange incantations not unlike the ones that he used on the Foulest Book. The seemingly nonsensical words rang out through the chamber, and when he had finished, a blinding flash of light had forced him to close his eyes.

At first nothing happened, but then there was a sickening cracking noise. Ares stepped backwards and looked down at his feet, where he saw that the ground had split. The crack in the ground widened itself, all the while a terrible humming noise and fiery red light emitting from it. A hand shot out of the crack.

Within seconds the creature had pulled itself out from the crack. Standing nearly seven feet tall, the relatively short Ares had to stare up at it. It was like a giant skeleton, only with grayish paper thin flesh hanging off of its bones, maggots crawling from the eyes of its skull. It was standing almost lopsided, as if it were trying to stretch itself or become more comfortable. It carried a putrid smell unmatched by any other odor, and it was flexing its long skeletal fingers curiously, as if it had been too long since it used them. The crack in the ground sealed itself, and the red light ceased.

Ares raised the Wand up high so that the disgusting creature could see it.

"Bow to me" he said forcefully.

The skeletal figure merely stared at him, unable to comprehend him.

"Bow" he repeated.

The creature snapped its jaw at him, and then made a thundering roar that sounded almost lion like. It followed this was an icy screech; a battle cry. It raised its arms up high and lunged at Ares, its eyes focused on the wand in his hand-

There was an explosion. Ares had struck the wand through the air with little to no effort, and the blasting curse had been so powerful that the small chamber became full of dust. He cleared the dust with another wave of his wand, and saw that all that lay on the floor next to him was a pile of broken bones, a cracked, unmoving skull settled neatly at the top.

He kicked at the pile of bones angrily, and then put his wand back within his robes. Giving the pile of rubble one final, disappointed glare, he turned and began walking up the stone stairs.