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Announcement: This piece of FanFiction has characters and situations you are encouraged to use as a basis for your own morality. Remember kids evil is fun, murdering people and stealing their things is cool, and you should smoke because cigarettes clean your lungs.

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Choose: The rest is in the details
by Lens of Sanity

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Chapter Three: Where the Heart Is

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Feeling a deep tissue pain hex on the back of his outstretched hand, Golgomath flinched, tucking the carriage sized extremity under his other arm. It was probably the equivalent to a human being hit with a mild stinging hex, annoying but not harmful, hell the only reason Harry had won their little wizard/creature honour bout was by tripping him and sending like forty point blank blasters into his jaw until the Gurg lost consciousness.

Brows knitted the Giant looked to be contemplating violence when Harry waved for him to wait a few moments, and, walking confidently toward the bovine Golgomath had been attempting to grasp, the young Death Eater tried out his new spell:

"Kaio."

The cow went up in purple flames, not a simple burning curse which attacked its target externally, instead this flame spell burned from the inside out, and when used on living beef, produced nothing short of a mouth watering aroma.

"Knock yourself out Gee, you Giant guys don't eat enough cooked food if you ask me," Harry said, the English still unintelligible to the creature, but the gestures made communication at least sort of possible. Golgomath ripped off the hind leg of his meal and shoved the still smouldering meat into his mouth, and as the guy had marginally better table manners than Ron Weasley, offered a sight which barely made him turn green at all.

After a few seconds of contemplation the Giant let out the grunting syllables Harry had learned to identify as approval, and leaving him to his meal, Harry returned to the campsite. When he got to the table where his team was sitting around eating, Harry ignored the hate filled glare McNair was offering him and sat across from Theo, taking an offered plate of whatever the hell they were having for lunch. Diagnostics showed it to be clean of poison and he took a few idle minutes to simply enjoy his food.

It was coming on late July now and the temperature in the German countryside was torturous at best, cloudless sky and sun beating down on them relentlessly throughout the day. It was getting on for evening and the heat was finally beginning to loosen its hold on them, so they could at least relax for a while before Harry called it a night. By his estimation they were ahead of schedule, herding the massive magical creatures through some annoyingly populated areas was not as simple as one might think, even with wand and wards aiding their journey.

A woman, probably in her late fifties if Harry had been impolite enough to ask, sat herself beside him, offering a small smile of greeting. This was the Animage Nott Sr. had returned with after Harry sent him back to the Dark Lord. She was not in actual fact a Death Eater at all, simply an old friend of one of the new Inner Circle members Harry had yet to meet.

The saucy squirrel Animagus was also the reason for which McNair was glaring at him.

"Okay, what happened?" Theo asked eventually. Harry liked him, once he'd gotten past the whole Slytherin thing, and he acknowledged the fact Draco Malfoy was a stupid dickless fuck, the guy turned out to have a cutting and sarcastic sense of humour.

"What makes you think something happened?" Harry asked innocently. "Furthermore I have no idea what you mean, nor do I understand your insinuations."

"Mr. McNair has been scowling at you and twitching for his wand all day," the slightly built teenager pointed out. "Something happened last night."

With a huff Walden McNair, the man in question, threw down his food and stalked away with a scowl. As soon as the executioner was out of sight the woman beside Harry let out a giggle, a no shit giggle, as she tried to pull herself back together.

"You are not very good at keeping secrets," Harry told her with a sigh. "Because she is only woman here McNair seemed to be under the impression that she was obligated to do some stuff for him…" After a pause where Theo nodded his understanding he finished, "and when I caught him, I disagreed with the sentiment."

"So what? You Cruciated him or something?"

"No, I'm actually quite pathetic at casting that particular Unforgivable."

"So…" Theo began leadingly.

"So I expressed my disapproval using the Imperius Curse instead."

Theo paused for a short time of introspection. The implications of what an Imperius Curse could be used for in place of torture took the full meal to settle on Theodore Nott, and worse was the fact he couldn't quite grasp the limits of what sadistic shit Harry might have forced the other Death Eater to do as punishment. When the other two were about to leave he asked, "Are you going to tell me what happened or not?"

"You can ask Walden if you like, but I doubt he'll tell you." Turning to his Animagus instructor he changed the subject, "What are you having me do this tonight then?"

The middle aged woman gave him another smile, "Since you can't get the partial transfigurations down, I would like you to attempt a method my instructor first advised me to use."

"Hmm?" Harry asked, as the two moved over into a clearing to practice once again.

"I am going to transfigure you into a Harris Hawk, and you are going to catch a rabbit with your talons before I let you attempt to change back on your own."

As the band of transfiguration magic raced toward him, Harry managed a weak, "This is going to hurt isn't it?"

It did. On finally being successful and returning to human form under his own power, Harry suffered from what he'd taken to calling a 'birdbrain hangover.' It lasted three full days, at the end of which Harry wasn't certain learning was worth it after all.


It was the most wonderful feeling, a floating sensation as every thought and worry in my head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness.

Of course that was sort of a giveaway. Untraceable happiness? The feeling I could give up control and trust someone else to solve my problems? I snapped that fucker like a Sphinx neck.


"Contego!" After sidestepping McNair's initial Killing Curse, Harry raised his secondary shield. Protego, his primary, was a magical barrier on more or less the same level, and he found it to be far more effective in defending against direct magical assault, whereas this shield was a touch slower casting but considerably better at protecting him from solid attacks.

So if someone was firing a Bludgeoning Curse at him, he'd go with one shield, but if an attacker tried to banish a rock or something, and bludgeon him with that, he'd go with the shield he cast. McNair followed up his off target Avada Kedavra with a flight of arrows and so Harry easily took the hit on his swiftly raised Contego barrier.

What he didn't count on was the near reflexive Cruciatus the old man sent his way, off target as it was Harry had the misfortune to dodge into the curse's path, dropping him to the floor with a scream. Not good. Nevertheless McNair was nowhere near as proficient with that spell as the Dark Lord, and he managed after the longest time in creation to crack open his eyes, through the agony and tears getting a blurry idea of where his attacker was standing.

"Imperio!" Harry choked out, and while the pain didn't immediately lessen, the man's eyes did eventually glaze over as they had the previous evening. 'Punch yourself in the balls as hard as you can.' McNair obeyed instantly and, getting to his feet, Harry loosed the curse's hold on him. "I advise against attacking me ever again," the displeased teenager whispered to him quietly.

He glared down impassively as McNair rolled around on the deck, clutching his groin, attempting to muffle the aching little whimpers. After a short while McNair managed a few threatening words of his own, to which the teenager replied, "You attempted to rape a member of my team. I do not care what you get up to on your own time, however the woman was sent here to teach me, not to service you. The only reason I didn't introduce you to my Killing Curse is because I intend to get back to England without a single lost Death Eater."

When McNair did not reply, instead choosing to scowl pathetically at him for a time, he simply rolled his green eyes and turned his back on the downed opponent. Harry supposed he wouldn't be particularly charitable to someone who used the Imperious Curse on him in the way he had, but then again Harry seemed to be immune to the curse, so it was not like he would ever find out.

Theo rounded on him ten minutes later after he'd returned to his tent. "I think you are making a mistake with regards to Mr. McNair."

"Yeah?" Harry asked, "How so?"

"You let him off too easily. He fired a Killing Curse at you for Frigg's sake!" he shouted.

"But he didn't connect it," Harry pointed out. "Wait, you were following me? Were you worried or something?"

"You are an idiot."

"Sure."

"The man is an old school Death Eater, he's not just going to forget about whatever you did to him," Theo pointed out patiently.

"If he tries anything else I'll Imperius him into confess his love for Minister Scrimgeour's daughter or something," Harry told him, the course of action being the first thing to spring to mind. Seeing the other teenage Death Eater turning a little green for some reason Harry asked, "What?"

"Nevermind," Theo said weakly, he really didn't want to get into how unattractive the girl in question was. "Have you read the Prophet yet? One of the Elves delivered it earlier on."

Two weeks previously Bartemius Crouch, father of the fool who'd been impersonating Mad-Eye Moody all last year, had come forward and confessed his sins to the Wizarding world. This was not good from their point of view, as the Dark Lord seemed to have several plans in place which necessitated few people being aware of his rebirth for the time being, uncertainty and misdirection were great tools for the Death Eaters, allowing them to move with more freedom.

With the former Head of International Magical Cooperation shouting to everyone who would listen that his son was alive, a Death Eater, and absolutely convinced his 'Master' would soon be alive, the Magical community had unfortunately rallied behind Dumbledore. The old man having used a call to arms, uniting everyone he could to his cause, under the guise of a frenzied search for Harry Potter.

This was all a damn shame, especially as one of his most manic supporters was a man Harry had met only once by the name of Amos Diggory, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, another big name in the Ministry. The tumult caused by Crouch Sr. had ousted the fool Fudge almost instantly, losing their side a great deal of influence within the British Government, and worst of all, the widespread belief that Voldemort was indeed alive.

"What does the paper say Theo?" He asked in response, to the guy Harry would tentatively describe as his friend… until the inevitable betrayal of course.

Bartemius Crouch Reappointed Head of the Auror Office
by Rita Skeeter

Given the man should be a laughing stock this was probably not a good sign.


"They say old Mad-Eye's obsessed with catching Dark wizards, but he's nothing, nothing compared to Barty Crouch."

Yeah, bad sign. Troubling even.


Harry walked into the Dark Lord's throne room with a confident swagger to his stride, the serpentine man of nigh infinite power took note of his presence but did not immediately look up from the tome he was reading. "Ah, Harry what a pleasant-," Voldemort's words jarred to a halt as he took in the appearance of one of his more entertaining Death Eaters, "is that a Tyrolean hat you are wearing?"

"Yes it is my Lord," Harry replied with a pleased smile. "I was forced to go quite far out of my way to find one."

"Why, may I ask, are you wearing such a ridiculous thing?"

"Well isn't it obvious? It matches my eyes, and Bavarian hats are c-,"

"Crucio!"

Yeah, again, who'd have guessed?

"Not a hat fan Voldemort?" Harry managed after a the curse was lifted, he was getting better at smiling when under the effects, but being Cruciated still hurt like hell. "Anyway, I got the Giants here, let me tell you getting them across the English Channel on those barges was a bitch. I didn't know Giants couldn't use Portkeys by the way."

"Are the Giants…"

"Yes, they are safe and sound on the preserve I was directed to," Harry told him, effortlessly rolling his shoulder to avoid the 'do not interrupt me' curse. "Forty five, they are kicking back under their Gurg, just waiting for instructions."

Harry just stood there smiling with a kind of relaxed insolence, confident that he'd done better than expected, given the obviousness of how swiftly the Dark Lord expected him to fail his task, get killed while travelling by the Giants, or more likely murdered by one of the elder Death Eaters.

Harry also found the Cruciatus Curse was not nearly as bad as most people assumed it to be, yes it caused unimaginable pain, several orders of magnitude greater than giving birth while being kicked in the nuts, but so long as you accepted that and attempted not to thrash around too much, the lingering agony drained away pretty quickly. So Harry was grinning, despite the twenty second exposure, lingering damage, and the twitching he was trying his best to ignore. Somehow the teen got the impression Voldemort knew all of this, and for his own reasons letting Harry get away with it without comment.

"How goes your Animagus training Harry?" the man hissed.

"Slowly, I'm getting better when Transfigured, but am yet to transform on my own even once."

Clearly coming to a decision the seven foot figure with cold pale skin got to his feet. "Show me the curses you have mastered," he commanded.

Harry did so, casting as powerfully as he could each of the curses, hexes, and jinxes he'd mastered over the last six weeks. Organ Shredding, Bone Snappers, his two favourite Blasting Curses from the Tournament, and the equivalent Cutters he'd learned for the same contest. Obviously he neglected the Imperius, but now and again he'd attempt an Avada Kedavra, in between some of the Dark Arts he'd swindled one Death Eater or another into teaching him.

The Dark Lord would occasionally toss something back at him to keep things interesting, but for the most part Harry was simply exhausting himself casting, time and again, into Voldemort's shields. The bastard didn't even need to move, and after a short while went back to his book, seemingly not needing to apply even a token amount of attention to make Harry look like an idiot.

Predictably for anyone who'd been watching, Harry blacked out from magical exhaustion without coming close to landing a spell.

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Anyone who had at one time or another in their life gotten so intoxicated on drugs or alcohol, they not only forgot where they lived, but the names or their closest friends and family, might have a comparable experience with which to compare Harry's state of mind on being shaken awake.

Comparable, but such an experience would not really come close. You see Harry had, for the first time in his relatively short life, channelled quite a large degree of Dark Magic in a single sitting, more in fact than he'd come close to performing at any point in his history. One of his newest spells which he'd learned so enthusiastically not four days previously was a Dark Arts Slashing Curse he'd been informed was called a 'Shadow's Glaive,' and once learning the incantation, wandmotions, and intent needed to cast it, had proceeded to add it to his spell repertoire.

Under normal circumstances this would be quite a standard thing to do, a given course of action when in possession of a new piece of combative magic. Unfortunately for the young Death Eater, the Shadow's Glaive was in actual fact the first moderate to high level bit of Dark Magic he had ever learned, and magic such as that, Dark Arts such as those, were not the same as regular magic, they were different.

Harry did not know this at the time.

Harry in his youth, and even now it would still be possible to call it innocence, had believed the Dark Arts to simply be an offshoot of regular magic, labelled "Dark" by bureaucrats and fools, for no other reason than because they were more liable to cause harm than Ministry sanctioned spells.

The previous afternoon Harry had been ordered to display his new spell knowledge to the Dark Lord and, confident in the progress he'd made over the few short weeks, had gone all out ending in an introduction to the floor and magical exhaustion. He'd also cast his first moderate to high level piece of Dark Magic, the Shadow's Glaive, somewhere in the region of twenty five to thirty times over the course of about a quarter of an hour.

This was where any memory of a brutal hangover suddenly becomes important in understanding Harry's mental state as Theo Nott shook him awake thirty six hours later, because the mind cracking headache and horrid tastes in the mouth were the least of his problems.

"The donut people have stolen my eyes!" Harry screamed, throat already raw, presumably as he'd been bellowing similar things for hours at this point. His eyelids were firmly clamped shut, unmoveable hands wrapped around his head, and skull buried fixedly into his pillow.

'Some days being evil sucked.' He didn't think it as he had too many other problems, but eventually he would.

Two hours later his was still shaking, each joint and muscle ached as though he'd run back to back marathons, and clammy, unpleasant skin simply did not sit well with him. At least he'd stopped screaming, even if his appetite had yet to return. The downside was that fucking smug bastard Theo was making very little effort to restrain his amusement, eating a huge breakfast with unholy glee written clearly across his face.

Harry hated him very much.

"Stop grinning at me," he commanded in his best intimidating tone, failing quite blatantly to appear scary enough to frighten even a box of six year old Muggle children. "I've suffered from magical exhaustion before, it was nothing like that, what the hell happened?"

"That was the effects of Dark Arts abuse you stupid prick," the Slytherin informed him cheerfully. "We told you there was a difference and you just wouldn't listen."

"I don't want that to happen anymore!" He declared.

"Listen to people who actually know what they are talking about then," Theo said, shaking his head and taking a big bite of disgustingly greasy bacon. Changing the subject he asked, "Do you have anything planned for today?"

Harry did his best to ignore the oily, unclean feeling, as well as the unidentified buzzing in his ears, while he took a tentative bite at a small piece of fruit. Thinking over the question he came to a conclusion, something he'd been mulling over since he found out Lucius Malfoy had regained enough favour to be allowed back into his own bed, thereby displacing Harry from his rightful place.

"If you know anyone who's good at memory charms I can think of something productive to do now we're back in England."

For some reason Theo blanched at the happy smile Harry offered him.


Home, I've always heard it's where the heart is…

My thinking, I remove the heart, and claim the home. It's that simple.


'I just have to be working with Crouch again,' Harry though sourly. 'The stupid bastard will probably screw it up on purpose.' Trudging up the driveway of the fourth Manor House they'd visited today, Harry decided to just ask, "If I apologise for putting you under the Imperius Curse Barty, will you cut me some fucking slack?"

"No."

"You're a twat you know that?"

"Harry please stop bickering," Theo pleaded. "Don't you still have a Dark Arts abuse headache?"

"Yeah but bickering helps me ignore it," Harry told him. Turning to the third Death Eater again he kept on regardless, "Barty mate, you didn't even do that badly with the whole Mad-Eye thing, can't we all just get along?"

"As soon as I can get away with it I am going to kill you and stick your corpse on a flagpole," the immature blond told him firmly. "I would not even be here if our Lord had not commanded it."

Knocking on the huge front door the three took their ease with varying levels of slouching and tiredness, they'd been Apparating all over the UK for hours and it was getting boring.

"Do you think the Dark Lord offered us Crouch for no other reason than to take the piss?" Theo aired his suspicions.

"I'd be fucking amazed if he did otherwise," Harry said. The man in question failed to even acknowledge they were talking about him, and so Harry addressed him pointedly, "You truly can cast a Fidelius Charm correct, you weren't simply blowing smoke?"

"Yes I can," Barty snapped, "the Master taught me enough to place one on the old Riddle House. Now please stop making talking noises."

The door eased open and an elderly Muggle man came to the door, eyed the three people wearing robes with a frown, and began to ask some pointless question or other; "Imperio!" Harry incanted absently, before the mental command; 'You are very proud of your name and heritage. The three people at your door are an eager audience. You desire more than anything to tell them your full name.'

"My name is Mills Edward Kettering, Sir Mills Edward Kettering the Third to be precise."

"A pleasure to meet you Sir Kettering," Harry said brightly, commanding 'Perhaps these gentlemen would care for a drink?'

"Would you like to come in, I was settling down to a fine single malt and you are welcome to join me," the stupid Muggle said, waving them in with a vacuous smile. Technically Harry did not need to bother phrasing the Imperius commands as if they were the target's own thought and ideas, but he was in the habit of doing it that way, and even though the Muggle didn't have magic to aid and resistance, he thought it best not to get sloppy.

The whiskey he was offered went a long way to ease Harry's throbbing head, and put him in a far more amiable mood.

And so Harry set about what he'd done on the last three locations, visiting rich arsehole Muggles, with more possessions, properties, and cash than they knew what to do with. Carefully asking questions about exactly who knew of the country house, visited regularly, and all the other information they would need to ensure that when the building vanished off the face of the earth, everyone who had detailed knowledge could be Obliviated at some point in the not too distant future.

It took three exhausting hours of work before Harry's job was done, the whiskey he'd been forcing through his low teenage alcohol tolerance was not making progress particularly fast going, ending eventually in a slurred order for the man, Sir Kettering, to go about and collect what few possessions they were leaving him with before memory charming him and sending the man to one of his other four homes.

At least that was his original idea before learning of Barty's ability to cast a Fidelius. Harry had initially thought that memory charms would be subtle enough to avoid throwing up big red flags to the Muggle Law Enforcement, and that stealing a building with magic was something the Aurors would probably investigate eventually. His companions disagreed.

"What?" Harry asked with surprise after he'd been called on his basic plan. "You're saying I should kill him?"

"He's just a Muggle, I don't see why you're going to so much effort," Theo said with a shrug.

"I dunno," he responded, the idea of murdering the guy did not really appeal to him for some reason.

"What's the problem?" Theo asked, "It's not like Muggles are real people."

"What do you mean, of course they're people, they just can't do magic."

"Now you're sounding like a Muggleborn again," Crouch put in, uncharacteristically joining in with the conversation.

"Yeah, I hate to agree with Barty but you've got to remember, Muggles don't become ghosts or have an afterlife or anything like that," Theo explained. "They're alive, but not in the same way as you or me, or even Mudbloods I suppose."

Harry actually stopped and thought about this for a while instead of just discarding the idea out of hand, with Kettering sitting vacantly nearby, still under his Imperius Curse. Thinking on the depths of human kindness shown to him by Muggles over the course of his short but eventful life, Harry supposed he wasn't exactly a prime example, and that just because he'd never seen the smallest spark of humanity from any of the non magical people he'd met, did not mean it didn't exist. And then there was that thing about ghosts, it was kind of difficult to argue against something which is self evidently true.

"It still doesn't seem right though," Harry commented eventually. "I mean I've killed people before, but never like this; point, shoot, dead… it seems wrong."

"You're over thinking it," Theo told him, as Barty's Killing Curse struck the Muggle in the chest.

Harry was, unfortunately, still connected via Imperius when he did so.

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It was probably a good thing that Harry was already pretty drunk when it happened, because there was a very good reason why witches and wizards avoid being linked to a person via Imperius Curse, or Legilimency had he known of the art, when the target loses its life. Not least of the side effects being that it made his headache worse.

With no pain relief potions on hand and Crouch suspiciously lacking in any ability of healing, Harry crawled away to find some dark corner in which to curl up with the remains of the Muggle's bottle of whiskey. If he just stayed still and pretended not to think about it he'd be fine. The bottle helped tremendously in that regard.

Theo was volunteered into helping Barty cast a Fidelius Charm on the new country house, as Harry curled up in an alcohol fuelled slumber. He really was kind of a lightweight and Barty had to be reminded a number of times not to do anything worse to him while he slept.

It was the middle of the night, closer to morning really, with Crouch having long since left and Theo having gotten bored poking around the crazy Muggle technology of indeterminate function, when an agonising spike of pain lanced through both Harry and his companions' forearms, waking the dark haired teen instantly. With the pain came knowledge of a location, and perfect understanding of their orders.

Voldemort needed them, and despite the shit shape he was in, Harry had to move.


"I'm sorry mate, are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, just a burn, no big deal…" he trails off looking at the snapped length of wood clutched in his scorched hand.

"Are you sure?" I ask, seeing his despondent look.

"It's just… it was my Dad's… Kind of had sentimental value you know?"

"I'm really sorry."


Harry Apperated to the coordinates as fast as he could, exhausted and aching from the multiple jumps he'd undergone throughout the previous day, his very bones protesting at the mistreatment he'd been putting the body still too young and ill equipped to deal with the transportation magic. Mask firmly in place over lengthened grey hair, glamour and dark eyes, Harry was given less than an instant to dive away from oncoming spellfire.

Lighting up the rain speckled dimness of the alleyway in a bright flash of yellow, the force of the unknown spell pressed down on the cloaked teenager, doubtlessly malevolent intent bypassing his body by mere inches, leaving him safe to bring wand to the fore. Harry didn't see who or what had attacked him on reappearing behind The Ossuary, an ancient manor house, traditional seat of the Head of the Bones line, but he didn't pause before sending an Organ Shredder in the rough direction of Harry's attacker. He doubted the magic would hit home, sending the curse more as a shot from the hip while he evaluated his position and situation.

The small wall he'd been crouching behind cracked and vanished into debris, now useless as either cover or concealment and, somehow feeling a secondary attack was physical rather than magical, he choked out 'Contego,' taking banished or perhaps conjured hammers on his small magical shield. An indistinct figure in Auror robes swam into Harry's focus when he looked toward his opponent, twenty or so feet from where he was hunkered down. Standing in front of a second downed body, the Auror was fighting him all alone, with a backdrop of tremendous magic bearing down on them from somewhere off to the north.

"Kaio," Harry sent his burning curse after the thin Auror's spell flew past him, wide to the right. With a taunting voice he said, "You'll have to do better than that sunshine!"

Not knowing where the other Aurors were Harry scoped around as much as he could, trying to spot some of the other Death Eaters, but seeing none he went back to trying to take out whoever the guy in front of him happened to be. Alternating Contego and Protego spells, Harry was getting frustrated pretty quickly, noting as he fought that the shields always cracked after taking a single curse. Hell he took a big fat blasting curse to the chest and flew backwards into a shrubbery right as he noticed this problem, the offensive magic slamming straight through and taking him from his feet.

Rolling sideways to dodge another searing yellow spell Harry stuck with his Organ Shredder and inside out burning curse, the newer bit of fire magic he was most comfortable with, pairing well with last year's nasty little caress.

"Stop playing around you stupid bastard," Theo growled right after his Cruciatus flew at the Auror. "She'll beat you if you start taking the piss."

"Shu' it!" Harry slurred, still a little drunk from all the amber liquid he drank last night. Noticing Theo was talking up most of the Auror's attention, Harry took a moment to focus on the loving feelings he held for his old crossbeam, and after a short pause to gather the emotional intent whispered, "Avada Kedavra!"

The Auror, who was apparently female if Theo was to be believed, found herself banished powerfully by some unseen force, and Harry's Killing Curse, no longer streaking straight toward her, zoomed through the air she'd been occupying seconds before.

As Harry's focus swung toward a male voice he heard shouting a banisher, the south side of The Ossuary exploded in wood and shrapnel. The conclave of energy he'd been feeling far to the north was rapidly approaching and, through the now gaping south side of the Bones Ancestral Home, a huge gathering of Masked Death Eaters was trading shots with maybe twice their number of Aurors.

Noting the female Auror was getting to her feet and waving two young girls over to her downed partner, Harry and Theo paired up in an attempt to give what help they could to the other Death Eaters. It was chaos and Harry still had no idea what was going on, but one thing was for certain, there was a pissed off teenager between their position and the battle, and the magic he was sending at the two of them had unfettered rage fuelling it.

Whatever Voldemort had summoned them for, the two Death Eaters had a bigger problem to deal with, and that problem's name was Neville Longbottom.

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Lens of Sanity
The 'Kiao' spell was swiped from Mira Mirth … As for stealing a country house from a Muggle, it's never made much sense to me that a Death Eater who's perfectly happy to commit murder could possibly live in squalor. For gods sake Snape lives in a tiny terraced house on Spinner's End! How much sense does that make when you could just Memory Charm someone and steal their shit?

As a final note I'd like to inform everyone that I'm probably bailing on the DLP Forum. Lots of their help was awesome so I've nothing but respect for those guys. Also there is a FanFiction on their WbA section which I'd never seen before, it's one of those 'top drawer' Bungle or NoFP quality stories I'd strongly recommend titled 'Harry Potter: and the Boy Who Lived.' It's up to 4th Year and only available to readers who join the Forum, so I'd advise you get an account. For those who've already read it, I recently found a picture of Calypso Rosier and have posted it on lensofsanity (dot) deviantart (dot) com

As for Betaing I'd ask people reading this, who are interested in spell/grammar checking, AND who want pre-release copies of the chapters, let me know and I'll PM you when they're done…