A Stranger in an Unholy Land

~~~~ Chapter IV ~~~~

In Order to See the Light,

One Must Brave the Dark

Albus Dumbledore stared at his reflection in the mirror. He splashed water on his face, trying to shake the worries of an old and overworked man from his features. He couldn't face the swarm of journalists looking like he felt. Why had the trial of Harry Potter shaken him up so much? The boy was a killer; he had proved it time and time again. The look of disappointment and the comment about trust had struck home with Albus. Something in the boy's eyes had pushed a button in Dumbledore.

He wanted to talk to the boy. 'Why?' was the main question on his lips. Lily and James were loving parents. What had caused Harry Potter to run off the rails? Rose-Marie was a wonderful young-lady. What had caused Harry to be any different? Why had he not turned out like his sister? Maybe Albus just didn't want to know, maybe seeing Harry had brought the memories of Tom back to the surface. It was against his principles to believe that anyone was inherently evil but this boy had something that Albus had never seen before. Such a cold, calculating killer at the age if sixteen.

What had gone wrong? Was it his fault? Had he failed to recognise the signs, as he had with another student all those years ago? Today, looking into the boy's emerald eyes, he saw despair, utter despair, not anger as he suspected, and as he had seen in the eyes of countless Death eaters, but despair. That was what filled the boy's eyes as he looked at Albus. Albus could see that Harry Potter had suffered. He seemed to be hiding a great pain. Harry had looked at him as if he were his last hope, who had just betrayed him. Albus was already thinking of Harry as Harry once more. He had hardly recognised the young boy who had run away in the man sitting in the courtroom. Whatever this Harry had been though, he had grown up fast and looked as world-weary as Albus felt.

Dumbledore dried his long beard on the towel and checked his robes. His appearance was good enough. He was not looking forward to this meeting. Crouch was immensely popular with the public, but Albus had little time for the man. He was arrogant, impulsive and completely self obsessed. Secretly, Albus would have like to see him brought down a peg or six.

Albus left the toilets and made his way along the corridor to the entrance hall. The statues had been freshly polished by the house elves and a long table had been erected to the right of the reception desk. There were a hundred chairs set out, most of them were full of journalists and reporters. Cameras were being set up and loaded with film. Some were even erecting tripods at the back of the audience.

For the next hour, Albus would be forced to speak out against Harry Potter, a boy for whom Dumbledore had given up all hope, until today. The pain in Harry's eyes had sparked the flame of hope in Albus' heart. Maybe, just maybe Harry could come home. It was a fool's hope, but Albus just couldn't shake the look of despair from his mind. Harry needed guidance and help, not a slandering, but that is what he was about to receive in order to fuel Crouch's public image. Politics was an ugly business, and Albus knew it. One of the main reasons he had chosen to turn down the offer for Minister of Magic and stay at Hogwarts. He didn't have the cold nature to survive in the world of politics. As an impartial outsider, he was always welcome, but to submerge himself in a world of lies and corruption was not what he wanted.

At least that's what he told himself. Deep down Albus knew he was just as cold as any of the others. He ran the Order of the Phoenix. On his command young men and woman would go to their deaths. He played chess with hundreds of them. He had to sacrifice their lives like pawns. His conscious was far from clear. He was little better than Tom was.

He found himself questioning his logic more and more these days. Perhaps it was a sign of age, or maybe it was just getting harder, but every decision he made was lined with more doubt than the one before. He had spent two decades fighting this war. Many had lost their lives because they believed in him. But Albus was finding it increasingly hard to believe in himself. Truth be told, the cold grip of despair was growing ever close to Albus' heart.

"Ah, Albus," Barty Crouch came over to greet him. "I know be got shat on today, but keep the good fight image going. We have to make it look like Potter didn't make a fool of us." There he goes again. All he was concerned with was his image. He had no concern for the Potter boy, or even the Aurors who died in the breakout.

"Still no sign of Mr Potter," said Albus softly, keeping the combination amusement and annoyance he felt firmly hidden beneath a cool exterior. Secretly he was happy for Harry. He would hate to see the poor boy handed over to the Dementors. He would hate to see anyone handed to those vile creatures. To be honest, Albus doubted that Harry had enough happiness in him to interest even the most starved Dementor.

"None," confessed Crouch bitterly, a vein throbbing on his temple. The Minister was wearing his emotion on his sleeves: anger. "He used the exit to the tubes. He could be in Liverpool by now." Albus almost felt relief. It was strange, he thought to himself, that he was now supporting Harry. He didn't even know if his hope had any foundation or if Harry Potter really was a cold blooded killer and the performance in the courtroom was just that: a performance. Nevertheless, Albus found himself relieved to hear that Crouch had not caught Harry. Should the boy be caught, a meeting was out of the question. Crouch would never permit it.

"The boy is very resourceful," commented Albus calmly, giving none of his feelings away. "He gets it from his father."

"You seem unconcerned," said Crouch accusingly. Albus paused, he was far from unconcerned about Harry, but he was also worried that he would fall in Crouch's clutches. It was probably fool's hope, but Albus couldn't shake the hopeless look in Harry's eyes from his mind. Lily and James deserved better and until he knew for sure, he would not give up on Harry.

"On the contrary, Barty," said Dumbledore calmly. "I am very concerned. The boy could cause a lot of trouble should he be reunited with Voldemort."

"But..." pressed Crouch. He obviously knew there was more to come.

"But I believe that we have bigger fish to fry. Harry is not stupid enough to use magic. He could be anywhere and if he is not already with Voldemort, he soon will be. You have no hope of intercepting him, not now. The boy is too clever for that. So let us focus on the bigger fish. Harry accused Dolores Umbridge of being a Death Eater."

A bitter scowl appeared on Crouch's face. "And?" pressed the irate Minister.

"Are you going to investigate?" asked Albus calmly. "The woman is impulsive and irrational. I for one would not put it past her to join Voldemort's side, especially if he offered her power."

"Albus!" said Crouch desperately. He pulled him aside, out of the way of prying ears. "If it emerged that a Death Eater infiltrated the most senior ranks of the Ministry and the Wizengamot, do you have any idea what kind of shit-storm that would create? The Ministry hangs by a thread, Albus, you know that better than anyone. Voldemort's forces are gaining strength, advancing on all sides. People are flocking to him in droves, if not out of belief then out of plain fear. People simply don't believe we can win. Any more confusion or scandals and the government would collapse. The public are losing faith in us. I am trying to save a nation, here, Dumbledore."

"I know where you are coming from and you are right," sighed Dumbledore. His tone was grave. He knew that every word the Minister had said was true, despite his colourful use of language. "All I am suggesting is that she be kept an eye on. Also be careful what information you share with her. If you can't remove her, then put her to use. Feed her lies, let Voldemort think that we are panicking. Use her to your advantage."

"You are beginning to sound like Him," said Crouch, though he wore an approving smile on his face.

"I find myself having to make choices like Him more and more often," said Dumbledore gravely. "The difference is that I care about those who my choices affect, rather than just what I can gain from them, but, enough philosophy. Madame Umbridge must not be allowed access to sensitive information."

"You're right," sighed Crouch. " It will be done." He turned and stepped out into the corridor. He started to walk towards the conference. Albus fell into step beside him. "About this conference though, I know you are close to the boy's parents and I know he is an ex-pupil of yours, but let's not forget what the boy has become. Whatever you feel about the boy, you must see that he is the greatest threat to this country except for Voldemort himself. We must let the public know that he is a danger, but at the same time we don't want a panic. I trust I can rely on your honesty, and your discretion."

"I'll do my best, Barty," sighed Albus, knowing all too well that he had no choice. Crouch was once again right. The boy was a potential danger. Albus just hoped that maybe, what he had seen in the boy's eyes was what he thought it was. He took his seat in the middle of the head table. Before him the chairs were set out in rows with an aisle down the middle. At the front many cameras were positioned on tripods, journalist frantically making notes and fighting for seats nearest the front. Albus wanted to get this over and done with. Publicly shaming former pupils was not something he enjoyed. He had to look James and Lily in the eye after this. Would they understand? And as for Rose-Marie, she had adored her brother. Would he be able to look any of the Potters in the eye after today? He also felt a pressing need for a Sherbet Lemon.

"Thank you all for coming," boomed Crouch. Why does he insist on shouting? wondered Albus. It is perfectly easy to hear if you speak normally. It was one of Crouch's many traits that Albus objected to. Beneath his quiet exterior, Albus was, at times, quite a moody person, not that he would ever let it show. Too many years of playing God with people lives and passing out judgements on people he had never met before the whole country, often with the implication that they would suffer at the hands of Dementors had turn Albus' heart cold. It was only before his pupils, the future of the Wizarding world that he appeared calm. In private, Albus was just as guilty as Tom. The difference was that Albus cared; Tom did not.

~~~~ + ~~~~

Rose-Marie Potter sat on the picnic bench at the bottom of the garden, her feet resting on the seat. Her mother usually would tell her off for this, complaining that it was unhygienic. No bums where we prepare and eat food, young lady!

At the moment, Lily was in her bedroom, where she had been all day. Since they had left Harry's trial, she hadn't said a word. Once it emerged that Harry had escaped, her mother had locked herself in her parent's room and refused to come out. 'She wasn't coping to well wit the situation', was possible the understatement of the century.

Rose felt a pang of anger directed at her brother for reducing her mother to this. Did he even know how much suffering he was causing? Probably not. Why did he do it? It had been two years, but Rose was still none the wiser about why her brother had run away and run to Him of all people. She couldn't shake the idea that maybe it was something that she had done.

A single tear rolled down Rose's cheek as she watched a bee buzzing around the bush next to her. At least that thing had something to do. Rose was completely bored. It seemed that nothing could hold her attention. Even flying seemed to have lost its attraction. All she could think about was Harry. Seeing him again had brought back painful memories for Rose. She remembered the good times, when they were together. As close as any siblings alive. But that had all changed. It was during his third year, Rose's second, when it had all gone pear-shaped. He became so distant, so angry. Something changed in him. Then just before they should have gone back to school, Harry just disappeared. In the middle of the night, he just vanished. Rose remembered being awoken, as he mother frantically yelled his name. Sirius, Remus, Peter, all the old party had come running.

They searched everywhere; there was just no sign of him. His bed hadn't been slept in; his room seemed unchanged. All his clothes were still there. The only thing missing aside from Harry himself was his wand. Hours became days, and the Potters became frantic. The Muggle Police and the Magical Law Enforcement officers were informed. Her father had even commandeered Auror resources to search for Harry but to no avail. Rose had been forced to go to Hogwarts. She had fought bitterly, wanting to stay and find Harry but her parents had made her go. She remembered clearly sitting in near silence all the way there, hoping against hope that perhaps Harry had made it to Hogwarts.

No such luck. Harry had disappeared. She spent the next month in a state of depression. She hardly spoke and despite her mother's sincerest efforts, her grades plummeted. She hardly ate and became desperately thin. She would hardly sleep and her concentration went right out the window. Days became weeks, weeks became months, and Harry did not show up. The ministry was already stretched, given Lord Voldemort's activities and so the search was abandoned. Harry Potter was declared Missing, presumed dead. Her friends tried to comfort her but they words had brought no comfort. She knew deep in her heart that Harry was still alive. It was on the fourth day of may the next year, nine months after Harry disappeared that she was proved right. Over the months, Rose had cheered up and moved on. She longed to see her brother but her grades had recovered and she became the person she had once been. At the end of April, there had begun to appear in the Daily Prophet news of strange Death Eater activity around Bel Tain. There had been a number of rumours about Voldemort taking an heir: a child whom he blessed with great honour and power. Then she opened the Daily Prophet one morning to find her brother mentioned on the front page.

All eye turned to her as the full horror of what Harry had done came to light. The article described in detail, how Harry had murdered the Minister of Magic, how he was now a Death Eater. How her brother was a murderer. He was Voldemort's lieutenant, his second in command. The article described in graphic detail, how Harry had led six Death Eaters in an attack. He had murdered the Minister of Magic. Nineteen more had died, the tree had been burned and Diagon Alley decimated. Over three and a half million galleons worth of damage to shops alone. Her brother was number two on the Britain's Most Wanted list.

Sympathetic looks became fearful glances. Hushed whispers followed Rose that week and she spent most of her free time alone. She couldn't hold eye contact with anyone. Did they all think that she was going to murder them all? She hadn't even known he was alive. She had wished it, time and time again, but never dreamed that it would happen this way. She refused to even think that it would have been better if he was dead. Those whispers had never gone away and she was still regarded with a certain amount of fear. Every time his name was mentioned in the paper, Rose new that for the rest of the week, no one would talk to her. No one except for her few true friends. They stuck by her. Without them, she would have gone insane many months ago.

Over the last few years, Rose had become accustomed to the continuous whispers. It was a part of who she was, whether she liked it or not. She could turn a blind eye to them, even to Malfoy's continuous insults. Luckily that bastard isn't coming back for his sixth year, thought Rose with a glimmer of what was almost happiness. The prick had spent most of last summer telling people how he was moving up in the world, going onto something more worthwhile, and befitting his lineage. In other words, he was joining the Death Eaters.

Rose had endured the rumours about Harry so many times she really didn't care anymore. But this time, they had caught him. Then lost him. This was a huge story. Everyone would be talking about it. Everyone with their own conspiracy theory, everyone thinking they knew why. Rose would be grilled time and time again. Why was Harry caught? Why did he run away? How many had he killed? How powerful is he? Can he really fight ten Aurors at once? Everyone wanted to hear it from her. Everyone wanted her story. Why couldn't they just back off?

It was odd, looking at him today, sitting in that chair bound solid, he didn't seem evil. He seemed...well, Rose was biased, but he could almost seem innocent. He seemed so confused. His eyes when they had talked in the cell. They seemed almost dead. There was pain in them, of that she had no doubt. She felt so sorry for him. And the stuff he had said, his parents were dead? He lived with the Dursleys? Rose had met her Aunt and Uncle only once and it was an experience she had not intention of repeating. Her Aunt looked at her as if she was an insect, her Uncle was a self-obsessed, delusional idiot. Her mother always said that Uncle Vernon was like Hyacinth Bucket, whoever she was. And as for Dudley, he was just plain revolting. The spoilt brat was sickening. Rose felt unclean as she watched the fat lump of lard eyeing her up, staring unsubtly at her chest until she had the sense to put her wand where it could be clearly seen. Harry had lived with them? Not likely, he would rather die; I know I would. Anyway, everyone knew he hadn't. He was obviously lying. Rose began to think that perhaps her brother was as mad as a balloon. She could remember the two of them with Ron, Ginny and the twins, playing together when they were younger. She could remember the twins locking Harry in the shifting cupboard. He had emerged three hours later from the chimney. A small, sad smile spread over her face as she sat and stared into space. Why? What had gone wrong? What caused Harry to leave? Rose wouldn't help but think it was something she had done.

Suddenly two hands clamped over her eyes.

"Guess who!" whispered a mischievous, yet familiar voice.

"Hagrid," replied Rose sarcastically.

"Thanks!" said Ginny in mock horror, releasing Rose from her grip. "You all right Rosie?" Rose looked at her friend. She didn't even need to say a word. Her watery eyes said it all. While Ginny looked happy and lively, Rose looked like death warmed up. She was pale, had huge bags under her eyes and her eyelids were drooping. Her bright green eyes were no longer sparkling; they looked tired and dull. Rose watched Ginny's smile fade. She didn't even have to say a word.

"Come here," said Ginny softly. Rose felt the redhead pull her into a hug. She had refused to cry in front of her mother. She needed her support now more than ever, but in front of Ginny, it all came out. Ginny was her best friend, and a friend was exactly what she needed right now. Ginny held Rose tightly to her breast. She sobbed for the first time since she had heard of Harry's capture. These last few days had brought a forgotten pain oozing to the surface. She had accepted what Harry was, and put it aside. She had built up an immunity to the continuous barrage of whispers, but seeing Harry himself had brought back memories she would rather forget. It was as if the floodgates had opened and now she couldn't stop herself. She cried into her friend's arms. Tears came freely, rolling down her cheeks, two years of pain and a fear of what would shortly and inevitably come welled up in Rose's head. A tea for every time she sat alone, with no one brave enough to even speak to her. A tear for every time someone skirted her in the corridors. A tear for every insult she had endured. A tear for every time she had lain awake at night, hoping for the day when her brother would be returned to her. They kept coming.

Several minutes later, when the tears subsided when there were no more left to shed, Ginny released her. Rose dried her bloodshot eyes on her sleeve and tried to recollect herself.

"What are you all doing here?" she sniffed, before blowing her nose on the handkerchief Ginny offered her.

"The usual," replied Ginny with more than a hint of bitterness in her voice. She rolled her eyes. "There's an Order meeting, which means that we are stuck out here alone." Oh great, thought Rose. More strangers waltzing through the house, Snape darkening the doorstep, which would later have to be washed and sterilised before Rose would use it again. And she and her friends shut out, ignored and told nothing. Voldemort wouldn't care. He'd kill her just as happily as her parents. She was fifteen, old enough to be told the truth. She was just as unhappy about the situation as Ginny. Fred and George were of age, and they weren't allowed in either, because their mother wouldn't let them. Which probably meant that even when Rose was of age, she wouldn't be told anything either. Speaking of the twins...

"Alone? Where are the twins and Ron?"

"Lavender is here as well," smirked Ginny. "Which answers your second question. Actually it answers both, you don't think Fred and George would miss an opportunity like this to wind up Ronnikins would you?"

Rosie smiled, for what seemed like the first time in years. The simple gesture made her feel a whole lot better. She got to her feet, jumping down from the bench. She knew that she wasn't allowed to sit in on meetings and Mrs Weasley barred the twins, Ron and Ginny from attending as well. Rose could remember waiting outside with Harry, flicking stones at the sheep in the next field. Normally she hated cruelty to animals, especially cute ones, which is why she had forbade Harry to ever flick a stone at a lamb. However the ram in the field, the one with the orange paint on his back was a demonic sheep. They were sure he was possessed. Probably a wizard who was cursed, or an Animagus or just a plain monster. It was a violent, evil sheep, who attacked anything that moved. They had even convinced Charlie Weasley to hit it with the Finite Incantatem charm to make sure it wasn't a wizard, but the sheep remained a sheep.

She also remembered when she and Harry had found an injured stoat in the woods next to the house. Rose had been about six at the time. After deciding it was a stoat. They had argued for three hours, since Rose had been sure it was a weasel and Harry was sure it was a stoat. After a Muggle book of their mother's had confirmed it was a stoat, and cost Rose three chocolate frogs in the process, they had kept it as a pet. They managed to keep it secret for nearly two months before they had had to go back to school. Dad had been a bit annoyed. He had pointed out that after not seeing a single Short-Eared Fabletoe for months, the garden was now crawling with them. The Stoat, name Eric, had been a good help. They had never seen it since.

"...morrow?"

"Sorry?" said Rose, snapping out of her daydream. Ginny shook her head and grinned as she stared down at her friend.

"I said, 'are you all packed and ready for tomorrow?'" Tomorrow? Rose's confusion must have shown.

"Hogwarts," said Ginny with a role of the eyes. Of course, tomorrow was the first of September.

"Oh yeah, sure," said Rose. In truth she was, her mother had forced her to this morning. It was only to distract her. Rose knew her mother was not coping well with all this.

"OWLs, this year," sighed Ginny. "Joy to the world."

"What did Ron get?"

"Two E's, four A's and two P's," said Ginny matter-of-factly. "Can't be that hard if he passed." Rose smiled.

"So are you staying here tonight?"

"Me and Ron are," said Ginny. "The twins might, Lavender might."

"Party on," said Rose sarcastically.

"Look," said Ginny softly, taking a seat beside her friend. "Are you all right? This has got to be hard on you, on all of you."

"I...I," stuttered Rose, unable to find the words. "I just can't help wondering what he's doing now."

~~~~ + ~~~~

Harry stepped into the room. He knew it well, for it was the room in which he had spent hours cleaning the previous year. This room however was laid out completely differently. Gone were the tables and chairs. The tapestry that Sirius had taken such great pleasure in binning hung on the far wall, unblemished save for a few scorch marks where the names of outcast family members had once been sewn. What used to be a messy yet functional room where meetings were held now seemed to serve as a large library. The walls were covered with shelves, each full with books. These were not the dusty old books Harry had had to dust last year, but a vast archive of what were clearly dark texts, superbly maintained.

The only break in the bookshelves were on the south wall where there was a large fireplace, crackling orange flames dancing within, illuminating the entire room. It was the only light source in the room and it caused the shadows to dance off the walls and golden orange to reflect of the polished wooden floor, making it look as if the floor was a pool of water. The shimmering reflection was strangely mesmerising, as were the fumes of frankincense. Before the fire was a small heath-rug on which Harry could clearly see the coiled body of a snake, Hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room was a large chandelier. It was unlit, but the glow of the fire illuminated the many crystals. It wasn't this or even the fire that drew Harry's attention, nor was it the hundreds of masked figures that filled the room. It was the hooded figure sitting in the large red armchair by the fire.

Harry had stood framed in the doorway for nearly ten seconds, taking in the surroundings before the hooded figure spoke.

"Leave us," hissed a cold high voice. Harry was unsure whether he was being told to go or not, he was frozen to the spot. He couldn't move. His mind was suddenly awash with questions. Where is the Order? How can Riddle be here? What is going on?

Harry stood riveted to the floor as the two hundred figures turned and moved silently towards the door, passing him but keeping their eyes straight ahead. Harry stood motionless as the procession left the room. When Harry looked back to the fireplace, there were not one but two chairs present. The second was undoubtedly for him.

What did Voldemort want? He had won; he had tricked Harry into coming here. It was just the two of them. Having said that he went to an awful lot of trouble to get him here. Maybe he could get some answers. Harry then realised something else: he felt no pain in his scar, no aching, no emotion: nothing. He couldn't even remember the last time his scar didn't ache. Headaches were so common for Harry that he rarely noticed anything except Voldemort's hatred. Maybe Voldemort was just feeling very calm at the moment.

Harry had somehow amassed enough courage to cross over to the fireplace. Nagini stirred as he approached. The snake leered, fixing Harry in her cold yellow eyes. Her forked tongue flicked out through her teeth and then slipped back inside. Satisfied she went back to snoozing.

The hooded figure that Harry could feel was Voldemort more than actually see him sat completely motionless as Harry approached. He still felt nothing in his scar as he neared the Dark Lord. Harry also realised that he could feel no emotion. Last year in the Ministry he could feel the hatred and anger pulsing in the Dark Lord but now there was nothing.

There he was calling him the Dark Lord again. What was wrong with him? Harry kept his hand very close to his wand. He cautiously sat in the seat facing the man who had murdered his parents. Harry's head was bubbling with emotion. Hatred, fear and anger being the most prominent. He wanted to kill, and for the first time he felt like he actually could. He felt like it was simple, achievable. He felt as if killing was nothing. Snap out of it, Harry, control yourself. Harry knew that there were two hundred Death Eaters outside and Voldemort inside. He was completely trapped. His only hope was to avoid a fight and just hope that Voldemort would spare him long enough for the Order to rescue him. Come to think of it, why was Voldemort in the headquarters of the Order and where were the Order?

Voldemort's red eyes burned into Harry's green ones. The Dark Lord sat in perfect stillness, surveying Harry. Harry couldn't see his expression; the shadows from the hood covered his face. The seconds ticked by as the two enemies sat in stillness. Harry could feel the eyes watching him. He could feel the questions on the tip of his tongue. He longed to ask what was happening, but something stopped him. It wasn't so much fear as a sense of proprietary.

He fixed his face into an unemotional mask and raised as much of an Occlumency shield as he could. It seemed like ages, but only a few seconds passed before one of them moved. Voldemort's bony fingers emerged from the folds of his robes. As soon as Harry saw the movement of white amidst the black folds of his robes, his grip tightened on his wand. His muscles tensed ready to move.

However, Voldemort made no move for his wand. Instead his hands rose slowly to his hood. Harry gasped out loud as the hood fell back revealing the face of Tom Riddle. Literally. The figure in the chair opposite Harry was not the snake-man that Harry had seen so many times before. He had a nose, almost perfectly formed. Gone were the slits, and the deformities that were the price of all the attempts for immortality. He also had hair; long black hair flowed over his ears and down his back stopping a few inches below his shoulders. He was still deathly pale, but he could pass for a pale man, were it not for one single feature. The eyes were the only things that resembled Voldemort as Harry knew him. They glowed red with sheer hatred. Never the less the difference was startling. He looked so human. At least the last time they had met the monster had worn a monster's face. Now he looked human, he was more of a person.

"Your return is as unexpected as was your capture," said Riddle, for that is how Harry now thought of him.

"I'm like a bad penny," said Harry. "I always turn up." It wasn't exactly polite, but he managed to keep any anger from his voice. He had no wish to suffer the Cruciatus Curse, but he would not give this animal the pleasure of him grovelling.

"You have a knack for survival," said Riddle thoughtfully. "Which makes me wonder, did you make a choice in Devon as well?"

"What?"

"Did you chose your own survival over the task I set you. Was my command less of a concern to you than your own life?"

"You know me better than that," said Harry firmly, feeling offended that he thought his own life was more important than his cause. Defeating the bastard sitting before him was worth his life. He would be with Sirius and his parents again. "You're always saying how predictable I am." Voldemort had exploited that flaw in his personality and Sirius had paid the ultimate price for it. Come to think of it, Harry wasn't sure what Voldemort was referring to in Devon. He had turned up on Aunt Marge's farm. If anyone made the choice for them to meet it was Voldemort, not him. And what did he mean his command? Harry was not on his side and never would be. Had they spent the last sixteen years at loggerheads for nothing? They were enemies, what was Voldemort on about?

Oh God! Harry suddenly realised that Voldemort also thought he was a Death Eater, just like everyone else. What the hell is going on? Something was very wrong and for once, The Dark Lord wasn't behind it. Harry felt a sense of despair. Even confirming that he was behind this strange behaviour would be better than not knowing. If Voldemort and Dumbledore were both caught up in this, what hope did Harry have of putting an end to it? For a second, Harry though of telling him everything. He had vast depths of knowledge, perhaps more so than Dumbledore. Maybe he could help. But then again, telling the Dark Lord that he wasn't a loyal Death Eater, that they had been enemies for years, that Voldemort had failed to kill him and that he was the one with the power to vanquish him would not go down too well. He would be dead before he finished his story. No, Dumbledore was the best option. He would be encouraged by Harry's story. And he wouldn't kill him for telling it. The trouble was getting to Dumbledore, especially without blowing his "cover".

No curse could do this. No one was powerful enough to do it. It was not a curse. What could it be? BOLLOCKS TO IT! Harry didn't know and he didn't care anymore. He could go insane with all the impossible ideas that were flying through his head. No answers were coming. He didn't care anymore. All he wanted to do was get back to normality. To get home. He wanted to find Dumbledore who would help him set the record straight. He would make things how the should be. In order to get to Dumbledore, Harry would have to grin and bear his time with Voldemort. When the chance came to go to Dumbledore, he would take it.

"Perhaps," said Riddle to himself. He rose slowly from his seat, the fire reflecting of his pale skin. "Whether you chose or not, is at this point, academic. What matters is that my hand has been shown. Dumbledore is a fool, but he is far from stupid. He will know what it is I seek." Harry's curiosity boiled

"And what do you seek," asked Harry before he could stop himself. He shouldn't try to extend this conversation beyond what Voldemort wanted to say, but he couldn't help himself. At least this way he could get Dumbledore some valuable information as well.

"Your curiosity will be your undoing," said Riddle coldly. Harry opened his mouth to reply 'your arrogance will be yours', but managed to stop himself. He wanted to make it out of this room alive. Voldemort thought he was a Death Eater, not his enemy. If he was polite enough to him, he would be allowed to go and then he could work out how to get to Dumbledore.

"I've heard that before," said Harry cautiously. "But you haven't answered my question."

"When the time comes that you need to know, you will be told," said Riddle returning to chair. Harry felt a glimmer of disappointment. But Riddle wasn't done. "For now, here is some food for thought: For every jinx, there is a counter jinx, for every attack there is a defence, except for the most powerful of curses. Forget about the killing curse, for a minute. For all other magic a balance is maintained. There is an equilibrium of light and dark magic. Now the Killing Curse tips the scales, as it were, towards the dark. So where is light energy that opposes it? What is the polar opposite of death?"

"Life," answered Harry. He had a sneaking suspicion where this conversation was going but he wasn't going to give anything away.

"Life and Magic, joined as one, perhaps?" said Riddle. Harry got the distinct impression that Riddle was testing him.

"I don't know," replied Harry honestly. He kept his eyes on Riddle's hands, ready to move if his hand went to close to his wand.

"No one does," said Riddle, a bitter tone in his voice. Harry wanted to say 'Not even you?', but Riddle would not appreciate that. Voldemort continued, "But in theory there must be a tremendous source of energy somewhere, one that gives life." There is, thought Harry. He was sure he knew what Voldemort was on about, though he had to play dumb. If Voldemort found out about the door, all hope was lost.

"Necromancy?" asked Harry, feigning ignorance.

"There is no direct spell for Necromancy," said Riddle, levitating another log onto the fire without even a wand. "It is possible to cheat; to time-travel and prevent death, to reanimate a dead body into a zombie if you will. There is even a means for a dying man to possess a young body, but no spell can spontaneously give life. So what opposes the killing curse?" Maybe he wasn't talking about the door. That would not hold a shield against the killing curse. Besides, he already had one, Voldemort just happened to have gotten around it. He already knew what had happened to Harry so he could be honest. It was safer to stick to the truth. Voldemort had shown last year that he was a skilled Legimens. He could detect a lie instantly and Harry would suffer for it.

"A mother's love," said Harry softly, quoting Dumbledore. "The ancient magic surrounding self-sacrifice to save another's life."

"A powerful counter-curse, yes," sneered Riddle. "But I do not believe it would withstand the power of the Killing Curse, certainly not one as pure as my own."

"What about me?" said Harry, staring into those glaring red eyes. He hadn't been able to stop himself. "How do you explain what happened to me?" Could it be?

"I am not sure what you are referring to," said Riddle. There! He had said it. He didn't know about Harry's past. This was getting stranger. He didn't care how it was happening. He knew he had to put an end to it, quickly. "But I do know, that should, hypothetically, a mother sacrifice herself for her child, the act would grant the child protection. However I don't believe the power to be strong enough to stop the Killing Curse. Even if it did, it would not be permanent, not a shield that said child could call on at will."

"Hang on," said Harry firmly. "You really don't know, do you?" He was astonished that someone as powerful as Voldemort could fall victim to the strange goings on that were happening all around him.

"Know what?" said Riddle, anger burning in his eyes. Harry's interruption had been rude, and accusing Voldemort of ignorance was not a wise move.

"Halloween, 1981?" continued Harry, not caring about politeness anymore.

"That date holds no significance for me," said Riddle, fixing Harry with a penetrating stare. "I presume you are about to explain."

Harry brushed back his hair, revealing his scar.

"Does this not mean anything to you?" asked Harry, a sinking feeling appearing in his stomach. He would have to get to Dumbledore. He was his only hope.

"A curse scar," said Riddle sounding unimpressed. "Dark certainly. So the Aurors have been granted use of the illegal curses. I assume that is where you received it."

"Wh...oh, yes," said Harry. He knew it was stupid to argue, that would just complicate things. This may be a dream, an illusion, a trick or something else; he didn't care, but he could still be killed, so he had to be careful. If Voldemort thought he wasn't completely loyal, then Harry would be killed instantly. The best idea was to pretend to be loyal, to blend in and then make a run for it as soon as possible.

"Crouch is more daring than I gave him credit for," Voldemort said thoughtfully. "I smell opportunity..." he muttered to himself.

"That or could be the irrational move of a desperate men," said Harry softly.

"Perhaps. Either way it is inconsequential," said Riddle. "Now, going back to my point about balancing magic. Pure hatred fuels the Killing Curse, so therefore, the opposite must be pure love." He practically spat the word 'love'. A source of pure love? He must be referring to the door in the Department of Mysteries.

"Which you cannot yield nor bare to touch," said Harry softly, his mind seeing what was coming.

"Precisely," spat Riddle, a look of pure disgust on his face. Was it jealousy that he could not wield the power? No of course not, he was merely showing contempt for love. "And Dumbledore knows this. Rumour has reached me that there is a place; somewhere where this mysterious power is at it's purest. A secret place controlled by the Ministry. A bunker of sorts, where they keep a 'well' of this power under examination." The Department of Mysteries? Surely he must know it was there. "However, despite my efforts, the location of this facility remains a secret." Facility, the word sparked a memory in Harry's mind. He remembered the trial. The facility was what he was allegedly attacking when he was captured.

"Facility," he whispered to himself. Then looking up at Riddle, "What about Devon?"

"The information Lucius obtained was not as sound as we were led to believe," said Riddle, the anger prevalent in his voice. Harry held no doubt that Lucius would suffer, if he had not already done so for providing inaccurate information. "The bunker held nothing more than a collection of druid artefacts. Nothing substantial, according to Lestrange."

"So what happens now?" asked Harry. "Are you still searching for this Source of Pure Love?" He was treading dangerous ground but he couldn't control his curiosity. Also if he could find out Voldemort's plan now, when everything was back to normal, he would know what Voldemort was up to and Dumbledore could stop it. Riddle didn't reply immediately, and when he did, it was not even an answer.

"We have much to do, and little time. Get some rest, Harry," said Riddle softly. "Tomorrow you will deliver a crippling blow to Dumbledore, one that will remind the world that we are still here. "

"And what might that be?"

"The Hogwarts Express."

~~~~ + ~~~~

"Well, well, well," drawled a cold voice, as the department door slid open. For the last three hours, the compartment had been undisturbed except for the tea lady. Now, as they sped past the countryside of the north, the door had slid open revealing the party of Slytherins. "If it isn't the Weasel family," continued Malfoy, fixing his cold grey eyes on Ron.

Rose's heart sank as she saw him. She had thought he was not returning for this year. He was always bragging about going onto the Death Eaters, but now here he was. Why couldn't he have succeeded? Then at least he would be out of Rose's hair.

Ron released Lavender from his embrace, and turned to face the Slytherin. "Sod off, Malfoy," said Ron coldly.

"Are you going to make me, Weasel?" sneered Malfoy. "Got the guts?"

Rose watched the exchange angrily. Malfoy, the little prick was so arrogant. She would really love to throttle him, but her mother was never far away and Rose didn't fancy a month of detentions with Professor Potter. What really got to Rose about the Slytherin was his attitude towards her. She would often catch him looking at her, more specifically certain areas of her anatomy. It was an insult to her feminine pride that the slippery snake kept admiring her. It was almost as bad as his spoken manner. He didn't dare spite her, hex her or risk anything more than a gentle quip. It was not so much out of fear of McGonagall, more of fear of Harry.

It was common knowledge that Malfoy's father was a Death Eater, at least amongst the school. There was no proof and too many Death Eaters in the Ministry to have Malfoy arrested, but most of the students knew. Draco strutted around the school as if he owned the place, his circle of influence huge. People feared him, for they knew that one bad encounter and Draco would run crying to daddy. The wrath of Draco Malfoy came complete with support from the Death Eater's inner circle. Why Dumbledore tolerated him, Rose would never know. He must know; hardly anything passes the headmaster by. Why wouldn't he just kick him out? His bullying of the Weasley family was disgusting. Yet no one acted. No one would do anything. Most of the student body would never dare to pick a fight with him, and so Draco Malfoy walked all over them. Rose really wished she were a year older so that she could be in the same DADA class as him and show the arrogant git how to duel.

Malfoy stood in the door, Crabbe and Goyle on either side and to his right, trying to get closer was Pansy Parkinson. Another person for whom Rose held nothing but contempt. Arrogant bitch. Though, truth be told, watching her swoon over Malfoy, when he overtly didn't like her was quite funny. The downside was that the reason he didn't like Pansy, aside from her shocking personality and facial features of a giraffe, was that he was after Rose. Whether it was for her body, for the proximity to Harry or whether he actually liked her was a mystery.

"Ron!" hissed Lavender, grabbing his arm as the redhead started towards Malfoy.

"I can feel a Bat-Bogey coming on," whispered a voice next to her. Rose looked to her left, where Ginny was sat, watching the events unfold with her wand in her hand.

"What's the matter, Weasel," sneered Malfoy. "Why do you cower under a Mudblood's whim?" Ron snapped, hurling himself at Malfoy. Malfoy sidestepped, causing Ron to end up tackling Crabbe, who shoved him roughly into Goyle who extended his leg. Ron tripped over the leg and fell to the floor with a thud. Ginny, was on her feet before Ron even hit the floor, her wand pressed against the back of Malfoy's head.

"So the little Weasel has learned to play," smirked Malfoy. His hand shot out and grabbed Ginny's wrist. Ron tried to move, but he had Crabbe's foot on his chest, pinning him to the floor. Ginny gasped in pain as Malfoy cruelly twisted her wrist.

Something snapped in Rose. All the pain of the last few days boiled over. All the misery inside her turned to anger and before she could stop herself, she found herself on her feet with her wand aimed at Malfoy's head.

"Let her go," growled Rose, her eyes ablaze with anger at the Slytherin. She saw his sneer fade as he stared into her eyes. However his pride wouldn't let him back down too far. This just enraged Rose even more. She was close to shattering something by accidental magic, but wasn't that far gone, yet.

"And why should I?" said Malfoy, his tone softening noticeably, but he still managed to form a sneer. He released Ginny and turned to face Rose full on. "Going to run off to mummy?"

"That's rich," snarled Rose. She grabbed the blonde's collar and thrust him into the side of the carriage. "One little accident with a Hippogriff, which was your fault you arrogant git and poor 'ickle Draco runs crying to daddy who has Hagrid fired. Awwwwwww." The blonde's eyes widened in surprise as she forced him against the wall.

"I did not run crying to dadd...father," said Malfoy, his voice as cold as ice. Rose would see the fury in his eyes, but felt no fear. He wouldn't dare, not to her. He wanted in with Harry, this was not the best way to go about it. Not to mention that the way she was feeling right now, Voldemort himself should run and hide from her.

"So what do you call it?" asked Rose. "Dobbing? Grassing? Squealing? It doesn't matter. The point is that you go crying to daddy who thinks he's a hot-shot Death Eater, but doesn't realise that he's just a simple pawn to Voldemort. He doesn't mean anything. And why aren't you a Death Eater. You were bragging about it all last year. What's the matter. Did you fail? Told you're not good enough?"

"You have a sharp tongue, Potter," sneered Malfoy, the colour drained from his face.

"So does my brother," she snapped. There was a gasp. None of them had ever heard her speak of him before. She had been asked hundreds of time, but she never answered. Over the years, everyone had tried to get something out of her, but she had never answered, never spoken to anyone except Ginny about Harry. "And if you ever want to get close to him and join the Death Eaters you can start by leaving me alone. So bugger off and take your band of merry morons with you."

Rose had seen his eyes flicker at the mention of Harry. The threat had done its job. With a nod to his henchmen, Malfoy retreated out of the compartment without another word. As the door slid closed there was a sigh of relief.

"Rose," said Ron when he was back on his feet. "That was wicked." He had a big grin plastered on his face. Finally someone had shown Malfoy where to shove it. Rose on the other hand, felt awful. She had let him get to her, she had snapped. All the emotion bubbling in her head was making her sick.

She sank onto a seat, put her head on her hands and burst into tears.

"Women," muttered Ron, not quietly enough. He instantly received glares from every occupant of the compartment.

~~~~ + ~~~~

Harry landed in the middle of a small clearing in the woods. The trees were short and spaced, allowing plenty of light into the wood. Red and brown leaves fluttered down from the branches, blown by the wind. The woods were alive with noise, birds, rustling and the smell of nature. The wood seemed peaceful, a strict contrast to the men who had just appeared out of thin air.

Forty figures in black robes had just appeared by Portkey. All of them head their hoods up, and a perfectly white mask covering their face, all that is except for one. Harry looked around, taking in the sight of the them. It reminded him of the graveyard, of the attack in the Department of Mysteries. He remembered vividly the billowing black cloaks coming out of the shadows, curses flying everywhere. His mind was suddenly filled with a picture of a man falling through a veil. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. He had found it last night at Grimmauld Place. He had not spoken to anyone since his audience with Voldemort had ended. He merely went to the room assigned to him and had happened to find it in the drawer. It showed his father and Sirius on their graduation day at Hogwarts. Sirius looked so young, so full of life. Harry had taken it and had found himself looking at it several times in the space of hours. SIRIUS! Harry felt a rush of pain. He closed his eyes, balling his fists, trying to get a control of himself. Bellatrix, he hated her so much, she took Sirius from him. To make matters worse, she was less than five feet away from him. She would never expect an attack. Maybe he could just...No! Harry, control yourself!

"Harry?" said a sweet voice. His eyes snapped open, coming to rest on the speaker. The very person he was wishing a painful death on. "Are you all right?" inquired Bellatrix, removing her mask. This was not Bellatrix as Harry knew her. The effects of Azkaban did not show on the face before him. She was young and...no, Harry would not permit himself to think that she was beautiful. There was a fire in her eyes that did not exist with the Bellatrix Harry knew. Years in Azkaban had deadened her eyes, leaving glazed black orbs in a skeleton like socket. Here her skin was clear, vaguely tanned, while her heavily lidded eyes were keen and alert. She looked so alive, a stark contrast to when Harry had seen her before. But he didn't have time to wonder how.

"Put that back on and shut up," said Harry coldly. He held the authority so he might as well use it. Bellatrix looked taken aback, but, glaring all the while, did as she was told. Harry was sure he heard a soft snort of laughter from the direction of Lucius Malfoy. "Let's move."

The Death Eaters began to move along the path. The winding trail led down into the valley, at the bottom of which was a line of train tracks. Jesus Christ, thought Harry. His mind was racing. He was leading an attack on the Hogwarts Express. His friends were on board. Many of them would probably die today because of him. He needed to reach Dumbledore, but helping these students was his number one priority. He couldn't order an abort, for it would blow his cover and he would be killed. He had three members of the Inner Circle with him today, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Walden MacNair. The three of them would not allow an abort. He could sense their distrust in him. Probably out of jealousy at how much the Master - oh, I did not just think of him like that! - trusted Harry. If he showed any sign of not being completely loyal...Harry hated to think of the consequences. What was he going to do? Harry walked along about ten feet behind the rest of the Death Eaters; keeping them in sight, but keeping his distance. He needed time to think.

The plan was sound. Fell a tree around a blind corner, with a magical incendiary device - in other words, a bomb - to disable the train. Four parties of seven would board. One group at either end, and two in the middle heading towards each end. That left twelve on the outside, to stop anyone leaving. Although aside from Harry and the three from the inner circle, the rest of the party were all new recruits, Harry knew it would be a massacre. The fresh recruits were literally being blooded today. Despite the lack of experience at torture, they would still be more than a match for the students. Not even the DA, what few there were who remained, could protect the students. The prefects were no match for the fully schooled, if inexperienced, Death Eaters. Those who resisted would be tortured; those who were not of pure blood would be killed. The train would become a killing house, no, a slaughterhouse, and there was nothing Harry could do about it.

Harry felt a feeling of sickness in his stomach. He could not do anything to stop it. He needed to get word to Dumbledore, to the Order, even to the students. Hermione, Ron, one of them would be able to do something, to dispatch and owl to Dumbledore, to mobilise the DA. But Harry couldn't reach them; he had no owl, no fireplace, no nothing. All he could do was not kill anyone himself. That wouldn't make much difference; there would still be many casualties. As Harry walked along, keeping ten feet behind the procession of Death Eaters, he saw a large Tawny owl asleep in a tree. It reminded Harry of another friend whom he sorely missed.

Hedwig, old friend, thought Harry sadly. Where are you now? Dumbledore! Help me! Please! Harry found himself almost praying that Dumbledore would help him. There was no way that Dumbledore would know. No help was coming, and Harry was no match four thirty Death Eaters. Even with the DA it would be close and the collateral damage would be very high and it was that that Harry feared the most. Dumbledore! I need you!

WHOOSH!

A ball of flame appeared in front of Harry, taking him surprise. It was all he could so to keep from screaming. The ball of fire just erupted silently before him. Harry stumbled back a few paces, before regaining his balance. His hand had shot straight to his wand and it was now pointed at the fire. As Harry's eyes focused, he realised that he was not looking at a ball of fire, but at a very familiar bird.

"Fawkes?" whispered Harry. He didn't dare believe it. Could this mean that Dumbledore knew if his predicament, that he was sending help? He slowly reached out with a hand. As his fingertips, touched the beautiful red plumage, Harry felt a tear of happiness well up in his eye, Fawkes was real; Dumbledore had sent help. He had remembered who Harry was. It was nearly over! "Fawkes!" was all Harry could say.

Harry quickly checked on the Death Eaters. They were getting further in front of him. Fawkes landed on Harry's forearm. Harry pulled his cloak over the top, concealing the bird from view. He jogged up to the line of Death Eaters, none of who had looked back.

"Lucius!" called Harry. "How are we for time?"

"Two hundred metres to the tracks and we have eight minutes," said Malfoy, turning to face Harry. The entire procession stopped and waited.

"Carry on," ordered Harry. "You all know where you should be."

"What about you?" asked Bellatrix.

"I have a pressing matter to attend to," said Harry, coming up with the best excuse he could think of.

"What?" said Malfoy.

"Nature calls," said Harry. Malfoy still looked none the wiser. "I need a piss, you moron!" snapped Harry. "I'll catch you up, get the boys in position. MOVE!" Malfoy shot him an annoyed glance before turning and continuing along the trail.

Harry stood still as the procession started to move again, he watched them until they were fifty or so metres away from him before walking to his left into a mass of trees. There he knelt down, pulling his cloak back to allow Fawkes out. The phoenix fluttered up onto a tall root of the tree and surveyed Harry curiously. His large yellow eyes were fixed on Harry's green ones. He saw the curiosity of the phoenix. Fawkes was 'evaluating him' for lack of a better word.

Still, it didn't matter. He was here now, and Harry could contact Dumbledore. Harry couldn't help but wonder why he had sent Fawkes and not the Order. Suddenly the headmaster's words, echoed in Harry's mind.

You must have shown me true loyalty, Harry. Nothing else could have called Fawkes to you.

Of course! Dumbledore didn't know. It was Harry's 'prayers' to Dumbledore that had called Fawkes to him. Harry quickly reached into his pockets. He needed to write a note to Dumbledore, but he had no parchment, quills or ink. Cursing Harry pulled out the only thing ion his pocket: the photo of Sirius and Harry's father. Harry turned it over; there was plenty of space for a message. He looked around the ground surrounding him. He needed a feather, something to make into a quick.

Fawkes, as if sensing what was needed, whistled softly and a single tail feather fell from his plumage, landing before Harry.

"Thanks," said Harry with a smile. That meant that all he needed was ink. There was one obvious source available; the trouble was that that source was his own blood. At least that meant that Dumbledore would know it was from him.

Harry pulled out his sword and made a small incision on the end of the feather, and removed a small section of the under-core, turning the red feather into a quill. He then made a small cut on the back of his left forearm. He was going to use a finger, but he could need his hand fully functional for the upcoming battle. He made a shallow cut and as the blood began to slowly trickle out, Harry dipped the quill into his blood and scribbled a quick message. Having finished he handed the photo to Fawkes.

"Please take this to Dumbledore," said Harry softly. "As fast as you can. I can't do this alone."

Fawkes looked at Harry for a second, then cocked his head and disappeared in a ball of flames. Harry then sprinted back to the Death Eaters to take his position, feeling a little better. Somewhere inside him, there was now hope. Maybe, just maybe things would be all right.

~~~~ + ~~~~

"You sent for me Albus," came the voice of Lily Potter as she entered the study. Albus looked up from his notes. He still remembered when she was in her final year, the smiles as she and her classmates had graduated. He remembered her wedding, the day that she became Mrs James Potter. He remembered the look on her face as she held baby Harry for the first time. Then he saw her now. She was pale, and had big bags under her eyes. She looked...terrible; there was no other word for it. She hardly slept, according to James, and hadn't eaten since Harry had been captured. The Potions Mistress was a wreck.

"I did," confirmed Albus gravely. "Lily, please have a seat. Would you care for some tea?"

"No, I'm fine thanks," said Lily taking a seat in front of him. She looked so tired, so sad. The woes of twenty years of war had appeared on her face. A week ago she was a happy as anyone else, thought talk of Harry would send her off in tears. Now she looked like death warmed up. It was heart braking to see what had happened to her.

"I think you already know why I asked you here today," said Albus softly. He had been dreading this conversation all day. Sending Lily on sabbatical would not go down well. She would want to work, to take her mind of the current situation. She would want to be with her daughter and she was just as stubborn as she had been when she was seventeen. Living with James Potter, she would have to be, thought Albus with a small smile. He could always have Severus return to his old job, only for a week. James Potter could cover Defence Against the Dark Arts. Sirius could as well if James was unavailable. Sirius had covered once before when Severus was recovering from Tom's punishment. He had been an instant hit; if memory served and the students had loved Professor Black from the word go.

"I'm fine," said Lily quietly. Albus could hear the defiance in her voice. He had a feeling that she already knew what he was going to say.

"My dear," said Albus gravely. He took off his glasses and began to polish them on a small yellow cloth that he produced from a drawer. "You are far from fine. This week had taken its toll on you. No one should have to live through what you and your family have. When was the last time you slept?" he asked as he polished his spectacles.

"Last night," said Lily without emotion. Her face was a mask of neutrality. Albus recognised it at once, having worn a similar mask for a majority of hours every day for the last twenty years.

"And how many hours did you get?" he pressed.

"I wasn't counting."

"James was," said Albus. "You have hardly eaten or slept since..." he trailed off, unable to continue. Why was he getting as worked up as this, about Harry? He took a breath. "I need my staff to be at their best or as close to it as possible. Lily I am concerned for you. I want you to take this week off."

"What?" her eyes shot up to look at his. Albus was sure this was feigned surprise. She was expecting this. The former Head Girl was as intuitive as ever.

"Severus can cover you, and Sirius or James for him. The rest would do you good," said Albus kindly

"But..." Lily tried to protest.

She never finished the sentence. There was an explosion of fire in front of them. Fawkes materialised out of this air, and landed on the desk, scattering papers in the process.

"So you have come back," said Albus jovially to the phoenix. He always felt better when Fawkes was around. "Your sudden disappearance was most baffling." It was then that he noticed the contents of the Phoenix's beak. Albus gently removed the piece of paper. It was a photograph, one showing James and Sirius on their graduation day. They both waved boisterously from the photograph.

"What is it?" asked Lily cautiously, leaning forward, trying to get a view of the photograph.

Albus turned the photograph around to show her. As he did so he caught sight of the writing on the back. It was written in red ink, no, in blood. Albus slid his spectacles back onto his nose and peered down at the lettering. A sick feeling rose in his stomach as he read.

Professor Dumbledore,

Death Eaters, 40 or more, are about to attack the Hogwarts Express, in the valley between the Nott and Black Hill. Send Order backup. You have 5 minutes. Do NOT attempt to reply to this.

Harry Potter

Albus stared at the name. The boy's eyes sprang into his mind. He looked so pained so sad. He was no killer, Albus had seen that the second he looked into his eyes. And then there was Fawkes. He had just disappeared. He had been summoned, but by who? Harry? Only true loyalty to the master would summon a Phoenix. Did this mean...? There was no time. He had to mobilise the Order.

"Lily," said Albus quickly. "Call James, have him mobilise the Aurors. The Hogwarts Express is about to be hit. We need every Auror we have to protect the students." She paled even further.

"I..."

"Lily, there is no time," said Albus sternly. "We have less than five minutes."

~~~~ + ~~~~

"Rosie?" said Ginny softly. The poor girl had been crying since Malfoy left. Ginny knew that she had snapped. She had put up with so much over the last two years. It hurt Ginny to see her best friend like this. She had few memories of Harry; she hadn't seen him very often. He could pass her in the street and she wouldn't recognise him. She hadn't been allowed to go to his trial, and to be honest she was glad of it. She wouldn't like to take on an angry Heliopath. From what she had heard he had changed beyond all recognition. She had heard the stories as much as anyone else. They were so horrible. How could someone do those things? It was out of respect for Rosie that she kept all opinions to herself, but in secret, Ginny didn't want Harry anywhere near her or Rose.

The last few days had taken their toll on Rose as much as her mother. She too looked like death warmed up. Ginny had seen Professor Potter, just before they had left. She was a Professor so was on her way to Hogwarts by herself. Ginny was worried about the pair of them.

"Cheer up, Rosie," said Ron with a smile, "At least you made Malfoy bugger off." Ginny shot him a look of daggers. Ron had no sensitivity. He looked up at Ginny, a confused expression on his face. Lavender, the queen of shallowness, was holding his hand. She knew what was happening but didn't understand how deeply it affected them all. She had hardly known Harry. Stupid bint. Ginny had nothing but contempt for the girl.

"I'm all right," sobbed Rose. "Really, I just..."

SCREECH!

All of them were thrown off their feet, as the train suddenly braked. The screech was deafening. None of them could clasp their ears as they had been thrown into the front wall of the compartment as the trained tried desperately to slow down. The G-forces slammed them all into the wall. Those on the seat were lucky enough to be cushioned by the seat. Ron and Lavender who had been on their feet were propelled above the seat and driven head-first into the wooden wall.

"What the..." screamed Ron.

BANG!

There was a violent jerk accompanied by a bang; the train had hit something. The shockwave passed through the train, knocking those trying to get to their feet back to the floor. Other compartments were filled with screams as their occupants were thrown around inside them. The bang was deafening as the train slammed into something on the tracks.

And then there was stillness.

The train had come to a complete stop and for a few seconds, there was perfect silence. Then the students began to move. There was crying, screaming and the vain attempts by the prefects to maintain control. And that was when it all started.

BOOM!

An explosion rocked the train, knocking those who had managed to struggle to their feet straight back to the ground.

~~~~ + ~~~~

Harry watched helplessly as the train approached. It was a blind corner, and the driver wouldn't see the tree until it was too late. The tree had been felled and then levitated across the line. It was huge, even on it's side the trunk was nearly two metres high. It would derail the train for sure. The locomotive and the first carriage, the prefects car would be decimated. The death toll would be catastrophic. Harry hoped the Dumbledore had gotten his message. He knew that the time limit was very tight but where the hell was the Order? Why hadn't the train stopped? What was Harry going to do if there was a fire fight? He had planned for the Order and Aurors to stop the train, or at least appear in force. They had to hurry or Death Eaters would manage to get aboard the train and then the casualties would pile up.

The train came hurtling around the corner, the sun shining off the polished red engine for the last time as it entered the shadow of the hills. The driver must have seen the tree, as the emergency brake was pulled. There was a terrible screech. Sparks went up from the wheels as the brakes tried desperately to stop the train. It was getting closer and it didn't need a genius to realise that the train would hit the tree. There was nothing Harry could do. He watched in horror as the train hurtled towards the barricade, carrying his friends on board. With a sickening crunch, the front of the train slammed into the tree. It moved back about ten metres, but successfully stopped the train.

The train sat in stillness. There was silence. Even the sounds of the forest had stopped. There was a cloud of thick black smoke emanating from what was left of the locomotive. The engine had completely crumpled and the boiler was spouting out thick back smoke. The cockpit may even have caught fire. The front of the prefects' carriage had also crumpled, every one of its windows shattered. Harry, from his vantage point in the undergrowth at the side of the tracks couldn't see any movement inside.

BOOM!

The bomb went off, blowing the wheels clean off the axels and destroying the boiler. The red steam engine was blown to smithereens. There was no hope of getting it going again.

God, I hope Ron, Hermione and Ginny are all right. His thoughts immediately went to his friends. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Parvati, even people he hardly spoke to. Their faces flew into his mind.

"Go?" hissed a voice. Harry knew who it was. Lucius Malfoy was lying in the undergrowth next to him, his grey eyes fixed on Harry. Harry knew he didn't have a choice. He could not stool them. They were on a mission and Harry couldn't order an abort. Lucius would know he was not who they thought he was. The trouble was that giving the order would mean that students would die. The Order hadn't come; they might not even be coming. They had failed; he had failed. Students would now die because of him. He would have killed them. It would be his fault. Harry felt sick.

"Are we good to go?" repeated Lucius firmly. "Harry!"

"Lucius," said Harry slowly, trying to put of his decision for just a few more seconds. He had no choice. He had to give the order. If only he could buy more time. An idea then occurred to him. A cold, evil idea, that would guarantee that someone would suffer. But then again, the locomotive was so badly damaged that he doubted anyone had survived. "Take two men, check the loco for survivors." Lucius nodded and after a bit of whispering stood up and ran to the locomotive. Harry watched, the guilt bubbling in him all the while as they climbed up the side, and entered the wreckage of the once proud scarlet steam-engine. Hopefully they wouldn't find anyone. Lucius climbed inside while his two companions stood outside.

Slow down! thought Harry. Take your time. Hurry up, Dumbledore! With every second they took searching the locomotive, the Order had a little more time to get a move on. Harry found that he was sweating with anxiety. How long does it take to Apparate here? wondered Harry. Then he saw movement at the locomotive. His blood ran cold.

Lucius emerged from the wreckage. However, he was not alone. Lucius was levitating someone else out with him. He removed the spell and the blood-covered Trolley-Witch crashed painfully to the ground. Jesus! They were going to kill her or worse!

Harry realised that the Order would never make it in time. It was up to the students to defend themselves. Harry hoped that the DA had had the initiative to form a defence. But they might not know that they were in danger. Just that there had been an accident. He had to make their presence felt. Then they would definitely start making plans. He had to give them time, time to arm themselves, to secure the first years, to mount some kind of defence. He turned to the Death Eater to his right.

"Form a line on either side of the train. Make yourselves seen, but do not attack until I give you the signal," he ordered.

"What signal?"

"The Dark Mark," said Harry. "Pass it on."

The word went out and the Death Eaters sprang forward from the bushes, coming to a stop in a line a few feet from the train. Their cloaks were willowing in the wind. Their masks glowed. It was a terrifying sight, the mass of black cloaks. Harry could hear screaming coming from the train. It was a terrifying sight, this army of cloaked figures. Their appearance filled the students with fear. This was not going to be pretty.

Suddenly a scream filled the air, echoing off the hills. He turned to see the tea-lady on her knees, a Death Eater on either side. Lucius pointed his wand at the defenceless lady and muttered a single word lazily.

"Crucio!" the poor lady's scream echoed off the hills. Harry felt a wave of guilt. She was being tortured because he had given the order. He had told them to search the Locomotive. He had assumed it was empty, that she was already dead, but he had been wrong. Now she was being tortured because he had been wrong. Her pain was his fault. He had to do something.

He had to stop this, but Lucius again would not allow him to just allow her to live. There was another thing to consider. For every second she was tortured, the students were mounting a defence, hopefully. Her suffering was allowing them to live. A rational transaction, but she had not chosen to suffer. That had been Harry's choice. She was in agony because he had decided that she should be. It was the right thing to do, mathematically, exchanging one life for the survival of many more, but it was still a horrible choice to make. How does one weigh human life? Was her life really that insignificant? No, of course not. She is a person. She has feelings, she loves, she hurts; she has friends and loved one who will miss her. But, it was buying him time. Did that justify her agony?

No. Harry could not let the lady suffer, not like this, whatever the gain was. Harry rose swiftly from the bushes and walked quickly over to her and her three captors. Harry couldn't bear to watch her suffer in this grotesque way. Malfoy had kept the curse on her for over a minute without stopping. Harry couldn't even imagine the pain she must be feeling. He had never been hit for longer than a few seconds.

"Lucius!" said Harry. Instantly the curse stopped. The cold grey eyes watched Harry through the mask. Just then, amid her screams, the Tea-lady caught Harry's eye and in that instant he realised that he couldn't allow this. Harry realised that there was only one course of action left to him, only one way to end her suffering. It was the most painful choice Harry had ever had to make, the coldest thing he had ever said. How does one weight human life? Harry made his decision. He knew then and there that he would never forget it. This moment would haunt him all his life. But he knew he had no other choice. He took a breath and said the two words that would appear in his dreams until the day he died. "Finish her." Harry closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head with guilt. He turned to walk away, there was no way he could watch this. He kept his face a neutral mask and kept his eyes straight ahead. Then he heard it behind him.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Followed but a scream, a whoosh and then a sickening thud as the lifeless body hit the ground.

Harry felt sick. She had died by his will. What he had done was as good as uttering the curse himself. He stopped and closed his eyes, willing the sickness to go away. He sighed. What have I done? He fought the tears away bitterly. I am a murderer! He could feel the sickness rising. It was his fault, all his fault. She had been innocent, and he had failed her. He was the only hope of defeating Voldemort, the only one who could save everyone. He had failed her and he was about to fail the rest of the school. Her eyes still filled his mind: her terrified face and the sound, the flump as she hit the ground. May God have mercy on her soul. Seconds passed. Harry took deep breaths, trying to push the feeling of utter failure from his mind. He had to concentrate or more would die. What am I talking about? he asked himself. More are going to die and I can't do a God Damned thing about it.

"The loco is secure," said Lucius' voice behind him. Harry turned to see Lucius. He could see white teeth through the mouth hole of the mask. The son of a bitch was smiling behind the mask! He was enjoying it. The bastard! Harry wanted to curse him, to see how he liked it, but he couldn't and he knew it. He was trapped and he would probably have to make more choices like the one he had just made. More people may have to die by his will or his hand. His friends may well be among them. Harry felt despair coming ever closer to his heart.

"Are we good to go?" asked Lucius. "The ranks and formations are impressive, but we don't have all day." Harry had no more excuses. The time had come. Harry closed his eyes, hoping that his friends would make it out of this alive.

"So be it," he said softly. He turned to the nearest Death Eater and nodded. "Give the signal."

~~~~ + ~~~

"What the hell just happened?" squealed Lavender, picking herself up from the floor. Sounds of stirring were coming from other compartments. The sounds of crying and frightened whispers were coming from outside. Inside it was a mess. The window had shattered, raining down shards of glass. Rose had been cut by a few such shards. Her left arm was covered in nicks and cuts from them. That would teach her to wear a crop-top on the train. There were bodies everywhere. Thankfully they were all moving. Trunks and their contents had been upturned and spilled around the compartment. The remains of a bottle of Butterbeer was on its side on the floor, slowly dripping on the carpet.

"We crashed," said Rose coldly. "Isn't it obvious?" Mentally she told herself to calm down. She had had a bitch of a week, but snapping at everyone around her would not help.

"Is everyone alright?" asked Ginny, climbing to her feet and brushing herself down. She shook the fragments of glass from her hair and clothes before looking around.

"Never better," said Ron from where he had fallen. He had a cut above his right eyebrow. A small trickle of blood was running down his face.

Just then the remains of the door slid open and a figure in Hogwarts robes stepped in, a large silver P pinned onto her robes.

"Is everyone OK in here?" asked a girl's voice. "Is anyone injured?" Hermione Granger, boffin extraordinaire, and prefect was in the doorway. There was an air of authority about the girl. Saying that she hadn't a hair out of place would be a lie, due to the bushiness of her hair, but she looked perfectly tidy. Anyone who saw her wouldn't think for a second that she had just survived a train wreck.

"We're fine," said Ron coldly. "Go back to your books." Ron didn't like her, and he had no qualms about showing it. While Rose had found the girl to be a little patronising and a very private person, she had no dislike for the girl. Ron just didn't like her because she tried to make him work and always proved she was better than him. Rose didn't think that Granger intended to be patronising. She was probably just trying to help, but Ron didn't want to be helped. Her rigid compliance to the rules had landed her a prefect's badge, much to the delight of McGonagall. Rose was actually impressed that she was managing to stay calm in the situation. She was doing her job; she was calm and was checking for injuries before making the next move.

"We're all OK," said Rose, brushing herself down.

"What about your arm?" asked Hermione, eyeing her bleeding arm. Several shards had cut her, but none were deep and no glass was embedded in her arm. She still had full use of it.

"Had a fight with the cat," said Rose, with a smile. It wasn't funny, but someone had to break the nervous mood. "What happened?" She had inherited her curiosity from her parents, which one, only God knew.

"I don't know; we crashed into something," replied Hermione. "It just..."

Suddenly a scream filled their ears. Both girls spun around. Lavender was peering out the window. Rose felt a chill go down her spine as she noticed what she was looking at. Outside was a line of Death Eaters. There had to be at least twenty on this side. Presumably there would be another twenty on the other side. FORTY DEATH EATERS! Rose felt faint for a few seconds. This was no accident; this was an attack!

"Merlin," breathed Ron over her shoulder.

Rose walked closer to the window and peered out. There was something happening down the far end. Two Death Eaters were holding the trolley-lady down while a third was torturing her. Rose could hear the screams. It was sickening to watch, the sheer pain that she must be feeling. Rose knew of the Cruciatus Curse, though she had never felt it. She had felt the Imperius Curse once, though she tried to forget the experience.

"Hermione," said Rose firmly. "The duelling club, the prefects. We are going to need their help. And lock the first years in their compartments." The prefect stared for a few seconds, before comprehension dawned on her. She shook her head.

"This is a fight we can't win," said Hermione softly. "None of us are capable of duelling with killers."

"They'll kill us if we don't," said Rose stubbornly. She knew that they would attack whether the student body resisted or not. Many would die if they attacked. At least this way they had a chance of survival. "At least this way we have a chance."

"She's right," said Ginny backing her up. Rose felt a wave of gratitude towards her friend. She watched Hermione with hope in her eyes. Slowly the prefect's head sank into a nod.

"You're right," said Hermione. When she looked up, her face was set into a determined mask.

"Us?" asked Ron, his eyes wide with fear. "Fight them! Impossible!"

"I'm with you, Rose," said Ginny firmly.

"No, you're not," said Ron firmly. "I forbid it."

"Try and stop me," snapped Ginny. "I am not going to sit here and watch my friends die."

"Got the fighting sprit," smiled Hermione. Rose could see the respect in her eyes and the stubbornness in Ginny's.

"Runs in the family," said Ginny.

"Mine too," said Rose, not realising exactly what that statement implied.

"That could be a problem," said Lavender, suddenly. She was still staring out of the window. They all peered out and Rose's blood ran cold. Tears shot to her eyes as she recognised the figure that had just climbed out of the bushes.

"Lucius!" called Rose's brother, as he marched towards the torture session. Oh, Merlin! Please, no! Rose watched intently. She had always held the hope that Harry was really innocent, that it was all a big lie, the media blowing it out of all proportion. She was about to find out. Rose watched as Harry walked up to the Death Eaters. Harry looked down at the tea lady for a few seconds, before speaking again. Despite the distance, Rose heard the words. Her heart broke as she watched her brother give the order.

"Finish her!" Rose felt sick. With the scream and thud that followed, all hope of Harry's innocence left Rose. She collapsed back onto the seat, her head in her hands. The tears didn't come though, what came instead frightened Rose herself. Anger. Pure anger.

Harry! How could he; how dare he! She had never given up hope on him. But he had just had that lady killed. She had never done anything to him. She had even fed him on the journeys on the past. She did not deserve to die, but die she had because of Harry. He had no right to do that. She would make him sorry. He had killed this woman, reduced Rose's mother to a wreck and brought shame to the family. He would pay, oh, he would definitely pay. She would make sure of it. Harry Potter would wish he had never been born when Rose got her hands on him.

"Get the prefects," she said, rising to her feet. "We are going to fight. Everyone to the middle two carriages. Lock all doors; mend all windows. Prefects will make a stand in the end carriages. If we lock all doors, they can only come at us from the ends, we have a bottleneck, at the joining of each carriage. We can fall back into the middle carriages. Hopefully that will be enough time for Dumbledore to get here." The look on her face, the fire in her eyes, told the other not to argue. Hermione disappeared and the others all produced wands. Rose walked determinedly out into the corridor. She turned left stopping at the first compartment. It was full of first and second years.

"Stay here," she said. "We are under attack. I'll lock you in. Whatever happens don't open this door!" They were too terrified to argue. They looked like rabbits in the headlights. Rose locked the door. Following her example, the other spread out. Any prefects that were found were told to join in and then the compartment was locked.

In less than a minute, all compartments were locked and the prefects were out in the corridors. The students were packed into two carriages, huddled together. Malfoy was sitting on a bench having evicted the previous occupants, who were now sat on the hard floor. He was looking very smug but made no effort to fight. He just sat, eating chocolate frogs. Rose really wanted to curse him but she had bigger fish to fry.

"What are we going to do?" asked the panicking Head Boy.

"You're asking me?" snapped the nearest prefect.

"Shut up, all of you," said Rose firmly. "Death Eaters are out there and they are coming in. Stop your bitching and pay attention. All doors are locked; they can only come at us from either end. Split up, half in the last carriage, half in the first. Keep shields up and use stunners. The doors are bottlenecks so we have the advantage. Fall back if it becomes too much, and then start again in the next carriage. Be careful. Hopefully we can survive long enough for Dumbledore to bring in the Aurors,

"If the Aurors are even coming," said Malfoy matter-of-factly.

"MORSEMORDRE!" growled a voice. There was a whoosh as the Dark Mark was shot into the sky. There was a collective gasp, whimper and sob from the students as the symbol of fear was launched into the sky above them.

"One more thing, Malfoy," spat Rose, raising her voice so everyone else could here. "After I'm finished with your father and my brother, I'll be coming back for you." With that she brought her fist up to his face, delivering a hard punch to his right cheek. With that she turned on her heal and marched back to the prefects. "Move out!"

Half the prefects followed Rose out of the door. Several stayed to keep the students calm and to keep an eye on the Slytherins. They walked through one carriage unhindered. Cautiously they opened the door and peered through. Quickly they slipped into the next carriage and headed towards the far door. They had only gotten halfway, before the door opened, revealing a lone, yet familiar figure dressed all in black.

~~~~ + ~~~~

Harry struggled to push his murder of the Tea-Lady out of his mind as he watched the Death Eaters make for the train. Seven went to each end and fourteen towards the middle. They would board and head to the two ends in groups of seven. They would be more than a match for the students and Harry knew. Come on, Dumbledore! thought Harry. What was taking so long? He just had to come, or it would be a massacre. There were twelve Death Eaters left on the outside, six on each side making sure than none escaped. The Dark Mark hovered above the train casting an eerie green light into the shadows of the hills. Harry felt sick to his stomach. He was causing this pain, this suffering: it was his fault. He could almost feel the fear in the air. He could feel the presence of Death. Even the sun seemed to have faded.

As the Death Eaters boarded, Harry himself went to a carriage near the middle. He pulled on the door to find it locked.

"Alohomora!" he hissed, aiming his wand at the lock. He needed to get inside. Hopefully he could save a few lives. There was a squelch and the door unlocked. Harry gave the door a tug, but the door remained shut, despite Harry's having used the spell. He smiled; the doors had been locked my more than magic. Well done, Hermione, thought Harry. It must have been her who had done it. The sacrifice of the tea-lady had not been in vain. They had used their time wisely.

"Reducto!" hissed Harry, blowing apart the lock and splintering the wood of the door. He pushed it open and stepped into the carriage. It was dark inside, and luckily deserted. He cautiously looked both ways. There was nothing. The carriage was silent and empty. He peered through the window of the first compartment. It was empty and locked. Hermione really had done a good job. All the students must be together, where they can be easily protected. On the other hand, one bomb and...stop it! Concentrate on the job at hand. And why was he suddenly thinking of ways he'd get onto the train and ways he'd get to the students rather than how he'd defend them?

Click!

Harry spun around, bringing his wand up to the ready. The sound had come from the toilet. As Harry neared, he could see that the lock on the door was set to Occupied, rather than Vacant. There was someone inside. Was someone hiding in there or was it a DA member, ready for an ambush.

"Alohomora!" hissed Harry quietly. There was a click and the door swung open. Harry found himself face to face with a little girl. She wore Hufflepuff robes, and had to be a first year. She was short with dark hair tied back into two plats. She had been crying and continued to sniff as she saw him. Harry could see the terror in her eyes.

"H...Harry...P...P...Potter," she squeaked, her hand shielding her face. She recognised him, but it didn't stop her terror. She must think he was a Death Eater too. What was...never mind! Think about it later. He had more important things on his mind at the moment. Harry looked around; there were still no Death Eaters in sight.

"Come with me," said Harry softly. "I won't hurt you." The girl's eyes were wide with terror. She made no move, except to wipe her eyes. "Look," said Harry. "Bad men are coming and they want to hurt you. Come with me and I can protect you." With that he grabbed her wrist and pulled her gently, yet firmly from the toilet. The girl was like a dead weight. She could hardly walk through fear. Harry had no time for this. He picked her up, carrying her with his left arm, while holding his wand with his right. Harry then turned left and hurried to the end of the carriage. He opened the door with a spell. Harry stepped through. It was then he realised he was not alone.

He looked up and came face to face with eight wands. In the light, Harry could see the faces behind them. He breathed a sigh of relief. Ron, Hermione, Lavender and Ginny were there. There was also the girl from the cell; the stupid child who had claimed to be his sister. Yeah right, he didn't have a sister and his mother was dead so there was no way she was telling the truth.

"Am I glad to see you guys," said Harry, failing to keep a smile from his face.

"Let her go, Harry," shouted the girl. Rose, that was what she had said she was called.

"Let her go, or we will be forced to use force," said Ron melodramatically. Harry noticed that Lavender gave him an admiring look, while Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Force, Ron?" replied Harry, he never did like threats. "What makes you think you could take me? Now, stop fannying around. Death Eaters are coming." Why were they standing around arguing instead of doing what they should be doing which is preparing for the inevitable attack?

"Really?" said Ginny sarcastically.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Harry frowning. "It's me. Put your wands down." None of them lowered their wands, and Harry felt his grip tighten on his.

"Nice try," said Rose hotly.

"I'm one of you, remember?" said Harry firmly. "DA? Do our years of friendship count for nothing?"

"One of us? A student? Tell that to the tea-lady," spat Rose. "You had her killed." Harry sighed and looked at his feet. Her words had dug deep. He had had her killed. Her death was his fault. He was a murderer. He shook his head.

"I had to," he said softly, trying to keep his voice level. He found himself unable to look any of them in the eyes. "I ended her suffering. They would have tortured her to insanity. I ended it for her. It brought you enough time to mount a defence."

Just then the door behind them slid open. Lucius Malfoy swept in, followed by three Death Eaters. The other three must have been told to wait outside or something. There wasn't really space for seven in the corridor. The four robed figures marched towards, them coming to rest a foot behind Harry who made no move to turn around. He kept his back to the Death Eaters.

"Enjoying the reunion?" sneered Malfoy. Harry could see the fear in the student's eyes as they aimed their wands at the Death Eaters, ready for the inevitable fire-fight. Harry couldn't allow this. They would be killed. He had to intervene, even if it risked revealing his true loyalty to Lucius Malfoy. The consequences of not acting were unthinkable. If any of his friends died...Harry couldn't bring himself to think about it.

Harry lowered the girl to the ground, and gave her a gentle push towards Ginny. "Take her," he said softly. The girl practically collapsed onto Ginny, who caught her with her arm. She was pushed back through the party of terrified prefects. During the distraction, Harry unfastened his cloak so that it hung over his shoulders, but noting held it in place.

"What's happening, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. Harry didn't even answer.

"Run, Ginny," said Harry softly. Their eyes met for a second; just enough time for Harry to give her a smile and a wink. Then he moved. He flung his hands upward beneath his cloak, launching it up like a curtain over the four Death Eaters, blocking their view of the students. The cloak fell over the top of them like a net, trapping them and preventing any of them from using magic, as they couldn't see. Harry turned to face, them withdrawing his sword from his back, but bringing the scabbard with it.

"Colloportus!" he muttered. With a squelch, the scabbard locked onto the sword. It was now essentially a kendo stick only it was much harder than the bamboo sticks they used. Enough blood had been spilt today. Harry would not lower himself to kill again. He twirled the sword around his wrist, and got ready to fight. Ron, Rose, Ginny and Hermione stood, frozen to the spot as the most infamous Death Eater of them all did the most unexpected thing. Harry held the samurai sword ready, still inside the scabbard to prevent death.

"Run!" he hissed.

Suddenly, Malfoy broke free of the cloak, his mask having slipped aside revealing his pale face. His face contorted with rage. He raised his wand, but not quickly enough. Harry grabbed his arm as it came up and spun the sword so that the handle was at the front and he held it by the scabbard. He thrust the hard, blunt handle into Malfoy's ribs. The Death Eater roared in pain as Harry brought the sword down hard on his head. The impact of the scabbard was enough to draw blood, even though it was blunt. Malfoy crashed to the floor, holding his head.

The other three Death Eaters broke free from the cloak. Harry held the sword like a staff, horizontally across his body. He had a Death Eater to each side and one in front of him. He thrust the sword forward, bringing the edge of the scabbard into the man's nose breaking it instantly. He then thrust the end of the scabbard into the ribs of the Death Eater to his left and then the handle into the ribs of the one to his right. The move lasted no more than a second and all three groaned in pain. From there Harry swung the handle up into the cheekbone of the man to his left and then the scabbard end into the face of the man to his right. Lastly he took the sword by the handle, reverting to the more traditional use of the weapon and brought it down hard on the middleman's head. It drew blood, just as it had with Malfoy; the impact of the scabbard-covered blade was hard enough, even though the weapon was blunt. All three fell to the floor.

Suddenly, Harry realised that Lucius Malfoy was on his feet. He was running towards the far end of the carriage, making his getaway. Harry hurled the sword at the retreating Death Eater. It hit him in the small of the back, knocking him off his feet. Harry withdrew his wand and fired a single stunner at the fallen form of Lucius Malfoy. He then fired one at each of the three Death Eaters who lay at his feet, clutching bruises and groaning in pain. The whole exchange had lasted less than ten seconds.

"Wow," gasped Ron. It was all any of them could say. Now they truly did appreciate why he was the most feared Death Eater of them all.

Harry wandlessly summoned the sword back to him. Using the Alohomora charm, he unlocked the scabbard. He then placed it back over his back. It was only when it was slung over his back that he realised what he had done. He didn't know he could do it without a wand. He had never tried wandless magic before. Shrugging it off, Harry picked up his cloak and put it back on. He could worry about wandless magic later. For now he had to attend to the safety of those on board.

"When Malfoy wakes up," said Harry softly. "He'll remember that it was me that did this. You'll have to get Dumbledore to wipe his memory. I called him minutes ago. He should be here any second."

"What are you talking about?" stammered Ron, still in awe of what he had just seen. All of those present had their wand aimed at Harry. He could see the fear in their eyes. If he could take out four Death Eaters like that, they wouldn't stand a chance.

"Voldemort must never learn that I did this," said Harry impatiently. If Voldemort found out Harry would be killed.

"SURRENDER!" boomed a voice outside. "BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC, DROP YOUR WANDS AND COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP. YOU ARE SURROUNDED BY AURORS. YOU CANNOT ESCAPE! LOWER YOUR WEAPONS!"

"Thank Merlin," sighed Lavender in a singsong voice. "We're saved. Aurors are here."

"Take the girl and go," said Harry to Hermione. "The Aurors can protect you, I have other things to attend to. Don't mention what I did here today to anyone except Dumbledore. There are to many spies in the ministry. Tell Dumbledore I want to talk to him. Trafalgar Square, beneath the empty pedestal of Nelson's column, midday tomorrow. Alone." With that, Harry turned on his heal and left, leaving a very confused and scared party of students.

He ran all the way to the end of the train. Looking outside, Harry saw that it was pandemonium. The air was thick with spells as the Death Eaters fought off the Aurors. The Aurors seemed to have the numerical advantage, but the train windows were good cover for the Death Eaters. Harry could see that both sides had already sustained heavy casualties. The ground was littered with fallen bodies, though whether they were dead or not was a mystery.

"Potter!" screamed a voice. He had been spotted. Five different hexes flew at him out of the chaos. He dived out of the train door, missing the incoming curses by millimetres. He landed hard on the ground three feet below where he had jumped from. The impact knocked the wind out of him. He looked up, gasping for breath. For a second he thought he saw Sirius duelling with Bellatrix. NO! He's dead; it was just a hallucination. Quickly he rolled under the train, narrowly avoiding more incoming spells. Taking out both his wands, his proper one in his right hand, and his spare in his left, Harry fired two simultaneous stunners at the advancing Aurors. Two fell to the attack, the other two to Harry's second volley.

He realised that he had just taken out four Aurors by himself, with four simple spells. He hadn't even been scratched or come close to danger.

"Crucio!" Harry looked over to where the shout had come from. Walden MacNair held an Auror with bubblegum pink hair under the pain curse.

"Tonks!" gasped Harry. "Stupefy!" his stunner hit MacNair in the back of the head. He went rigid and keeled over, releasing Tonks from the curse. Her steaming body was moving slowly as she recovered. Harry saw he look over at where the spell had come from. Their eyes met for a second. Harry gave her a brief nod before rolling out from under the train on the far side.

As he stood up, a pair of hand grabbed hold of his arms.

"Don't resist, Potter," said a familiar voice. Harry froze, that voice. The Order was here as well. Harry tried to turn but the arms held his still. "I'm taking you in!"

Harry did the only thing he could think of. He stamped on the person's foot and then brought his heel up into the man's private parts. Spinning free of his grip, Harry turned to face the man. Kingsley Shacklebolt's face was contorted with pain, from Harry's attack.

"Kingsley," said Harry. He couldn't help but smile, he was so glad to see a familiar face. "Are you a sight for sore eyes? What the..."

Shacklebolt launched himself at Harry in a rugby tackle. His shoulder slammed into Harry's gut and had it not been for the armour he wore, it would have winded him. Shacklebolt rolled off of him as they landed and climbed to his feet, withdrawing his wand and aiming it at Harry. Harry caught the arm as it extended.

"What the hell are you doing, Kingsley?" asked Harry.

"You're under arrest!" growled Shacklebolt. He yanked his arm away. Harry released the arm.

"Stupefy!" shouted Shacklebolt. Harry dived aside, and the spell flew harmlessly into the undergrowth. He replied with a stunner of his own as he rolled. Kingsley effortlessly sidestepped the stunner and fired again at Harry. It missed by inches. Harry felt the energy as the spell shot past his ear. Harry climbed quickly to his feet and stood facing the Auror.

"What's going on?" asked Harry. "Why does the Order want me arrested?" Harry saw the look of surprise at the mention of the secret society.

"What do you mean?" asked Kingsley. He kept his eyes on Harry, never blinking. Harry's hand slid to his stun baton that was hidden because of his sideways stance. He removed it once again and ignited it. It was like a short, red lightsaber. The stick pulses with the energy of a stunning charm.

"Why does..." Harry tried to ask why Dumbledore wasted him taken down, but he never managed to finish the sentence. The Auror fired before Harry could even finish the sentence. Harry saw the stunner come zooming towards him. He allowed himself to fall backwards, keeling over. The spell shot over his head, missing his nose by inches. Harry hurled the glowing stun-baton at Shacklebolt as he fell. It caught him in the chest, sending the Auror to the floor in a shower of sparks, just as Harry hit the ground himself. His limbs ached through physical exhaustion and his breathing was heavy.

Harry summoned the baton back to him and turned around. His heart nearly missed a beat. Standing before him, aiming his wand at Harry was Remus Lupin. He looked even more tired than the last time Harry had seen him. He was dressed in the red robes of an Auror. His wand was a foot from Harry's face.

"Remus!" said Harry. He could see recognition in Remus' eyes. He held the wand on him, but Harry could see that he wasn't going to fire. There was too much kindness in the werewolf's eyes. "What's going on?" Harry shouted, stepping closer to Remus. Just then he noticed a figure over Lupin's shoulder. A short, fat, man, with mouse-like teeth and a bald-patch. He was holding a wand and moving towards them.

"REMUS, LOOK OUT!" shouted Harry. He dived to the side, giving himself an angle of fire. "Petrificus Totalus!" Harry sent a full body bind flying at Peter Pettigrew as he ran towards Lupin. Wormtail was hit in the chest, his momentum causing his rigid body to keel over and land on his face.

Just then a spell hit the ground around them. Mud and dust was sent into the air, creating a cloud around them. Harry couldn't see Remus, Wormtail or anything else. He was as blind as a bat. The dust was just too thick. Suddenly, Harry felt a pair of hands grab him.

"Sir," said a voice. "We have to retreat. We've done our job. Let's go home!"

Harry just nodded. He had given his message and Wormtail was down. His job was done. Casualties should be a minimum. He had also maintained the illusion that he was a loyal Death Eater without killing an Aurors. Not a bad day's work. He could go home.

"FALL BACK!" he shouted. There were several pops as the Death Eaters left. Harry pulled a Portkey out of his pocket and tapped it with his wand. He felt a tug behind his navel, just as a freshly authorised Unforgivable Curse, fired by a precocious Auror hit the ground where he stood seconds before.

~~~~ + ~~~~

The door slid open and in marched Rose-Marie Potter. There were still traces of tears in her eyes, plain to see to anyone who looked. There was a sadness on her face, a pained looked that few had even seen before and none had ever felt an emotional burden harsh enough to wear one of their own. Without a word, she slumped onto a seat just inside the door. A section of the side of the carriage had been removed and Aurors were help students out and checking for injuries. They had got off lightly and they all knew it. It should have been a massacre, and the only thing that stopped it was Harry. Harry? What was he doing? The confusion and pain in his eyes. Rose had seen it. However much she wanted to believe in his innocence, however much she wanted him back, Rose couldn't forget what she had seen. Finish Her! Rose felt sick to her stomach. The tea-lady had always been nice to her; she didn't deserve to die. Why, Harry? thought Rose. And then he had saved her and her friends. Why? There was no logic to it. But she had seen him, with her own eyes. He was alive and well. He seemed in perfect health, except for the hideous scar on his forehead. Mentally though, who can say? He was a psychotic killer, but when Rose had looked into his eyes. She...it was almost as if they were filled with pain and despair rather than the rage she had been expecting.

"Rose?" said a voice softly. She looked up into a pair of twinkling blue eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Can my answer use expletives?" answered Rose sadly. She saw a half smile appear on Dumbledore's lips.

"You above all have had a very trying day. One would hope that this day will see the end of your pain."

"But we both know that that is never going to happen," said Rose shaking her head.

"You could be completely wrong," said Dumbledore. Rose looked into his eyes and saw the twinkling. Deep within the large blue globes Rose could see hope. "I was not going to involve you in this," said the Headmaster gravely. "As it is, your mother will most likely still try and curse me, but I cannot leave you out. You have been through too much and it may be time for something good to come of this."

"I don't know what you are talking about," said Rose.

"I have already heard the tale of your encounter with Harry Potter," said Dumbledore. "It is one of a number of strange things I have heard recently involving your bother...I think that this conversation would best be continued in my office. Your belongings will be brought along by House-Elf. Rose, please take this Portkey."

Rose immediately felt a strange tug behind her navel and the whole world began to spin. She was on the verge of throwing up when her feet felt solid ground again. The world came into focus and she found herself in the Headmaster's office. His desk was as cluttered as usual and to the side of the desk, was his Phoenix, Fawkes. The scarlet bird was sitting atop his perch, surveying her with his bright yellow eyes.

Sunlight poured in through the large open windows, bathing the room with light. The endless shelves of books looked ancient yet were free from dust. Many figures lay snoozing in their portraits. The many clocks around the room read twenty to four. Rose had been in the office many a time, though she usually used the door. She had never travelled by Portkey before. Floo, she used everyday, the Knight Bus and the traditional method of walking she used a lot but could not remember ever using a Portkey before. It wasn't the most pleasant experience, but then again neither had Floor been the first time. She really wished she could Apparate.

Suddenly the fireplace erupted into green flames and out came the figure of Albus Dumbledore.

"Please sit, Rose," said Dumbledore kindly. "I will have some tea and biscuits brought for you. Please bear with me for a few moments, I just need to summon a few friends who I think also need to hear this.

In less than a minute, a House Elf appeared carrying a tray of tea and an assortment of biscuits. While Rose sat and ate, Dumbledore marched up to a large golden disk. It was about the size of a Quaffle, except that it was flat. Embossed on the front was the figure of a phoenix. The headmaster raised his wand to the disk.

"Lily Potter," he said firmly. "James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, Peter Pettigrew, Anastasia Feather, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Severus Snape, Nymphadora Tonks, Minerva McGonagall, Rupert Jones, Zing Chi."

Across the country, eight wizards and four witches, while going about their daily lives, suddenly felt a tingling in their wrist. Every one of them wore a wristwatch, an item completely unobtrusive, and completely different from that of the others. Even when together no one would notice the similarity of the watches for they all looked different, made to the preference of the owner. But what they did have in common was the fact that they were all made by Albus Dumbledore and right now, their primary purpose was in use. Each of them felt a vibration on their wrist and knew precisely what it meant. Each of them politely excused themselves and made their way as swiftly as possible to the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Rose watched as within a minute, the fire burst into flame and out walked, or rather limped Mad-Eye Moody. She sat perfectly still as the rest of those who had been summoned, appeared in the fire. McGonagall, Snape and her mother come by the door since they were already in the building.

"Rose!" snapped her mother as soon as she set eyes on her. "Out, you are not allowed in meetings."

"But..." began Rose.

"Do what your mother says," said her father.

"Lily, my dear," said Dumbledore firmly. "I believe that what is about to be discussed will affect Miss Potter as much as your or I."

"Albus, you are NOT endangering my daughter, are you?" said Lily, the implied threat in her voice as clear as crystal.

"Perish the thought," said Dumbledore, sinking into his seat. "I believe she needs to hear this, because it concerns her brother." That did the trick. Her mother's face changed instantly from one of anger to one of...Rose wasn't entirely sure what it was. However, her mother fell silent and sank into a seat between her father and Godfather. Last to arrive was Snape. He shot Sirius at dirty look before taking a seat.

"Apologies for the short notice," began Dumbledore when everyone was sat, but something has come up and I think you all need to hear this. "As you may or may not know, half an hour ago, the Hogwarts Express was ambushed by Death Eaters. The leader of the attack is confirmed as being Harry Potter; but, and this is a big but, Harry's behaviour indicates that he also tried to prevent the attack. It is but one of several rumours of better yet 'inconsistencies' in Harry's behaviour since his capture. Rose, I know this is not easy, but would you please describe exactly what happened on the train today, from the point where you left to battle the Death Eaters, until..."

"YOU DID WHAT?" shrieked Lily. Rose recoiled as her mother erupted in the seat next to her. " HAVE YOU ANY IDEA..."

"Lily," said Dumbledore firmly, cutting the scolding short. "She did what any true Gryffindor would have done. Do not chastise her for following her instinct. If memory serves, I seem to recall another certain young witch who ignored my specific instruction to leave during the Hogsmeade Attacks of 1978, because her friend was off shopping and was unaware of the danger."

"Entirely different situation, Albus," said Lily blushing.

"Can we please save the family squabbling for later, and get down to business," said Snape impatiently. "I do have other things to be getting on with."

"I don't suppose washing your hair would be among them," muttered Sirius, loud enough her James and Rose to hear. Both snorted into their tea, earning odd glances from the others.

"Severus is right," said Dumbledore loudly, bringing attention back to the group. "Miss Potter, please tell us of your encounter with your brother."

"When he first saw him, he was...he dressed as a Death Eater but without the mask and his hood was lowered. I could see Dragon-Scale armour under his cloak. He had a sword over his back and his wand was in his hand. He was carrying a girl, a first year. I shouted to him, telling him to put her down. He seemed almost confused. He asked what we were doing. What was going on? He said he was one of us. I don't know what he meant by that. I was angry I shouted at him about the trolley-lady. I watched them killer her. She was being tortured and Harry just gave the order to kill her. When I confronted him, he said he had to do it, to end her suffering. That no one deserves to feel that pain. Then Malfoy turned up with a couple of other, probably Crabbe and Goyle. Harry just took them out like that." She snapped her fingers. "It took seconds and all four were on the floor without a spell fired. It was then; once they were all down that he stunned them. He then told me to tell you that you need to wipe Malfoy's memory before he tells anyone that it was Harry who did that to them. He said that Voldemort must never know. Then he just left. He also wants to meet you, sir," she pointed at the Headmaster. "Tomorrow at noon, beneath the empty pedestal on Nelson's column."

She finished speaking and looked around. There were many confused faces around.

"Harry Potter stuns his own side, protects a defenceless child and tells us to cover his tracks. What are we to think of this?" asked Dumbledore. "I am open to suggestion."

"It's a mind game," said Snape instantly. Rose felt a pang of anger. He wouldn't even hear it out. All he saw was another Potter and wouldn't even give him the time of day. Greasy git! "That or he's finally lost it," added Snape. "I've seen first hand what he is capable of. This has scam written all over it."

"Snape may have a point," said Madam Feather. "He's shown many a time how cold he can be. The boy is no fool. He would never compromise himself like that without purpose. He will undoubtedly have an ulterior motive."

"And if he just wanted to talk to you," said Miss Chi. "Why not just surrender to the Aurors?"

"Because he would end up in a cell again," said Shacklebolt. "Crouch would have him executed without trial for all the embarrassment he caused him. Potter knows this. But the big problem is this: Harry referred to the Order by name." There was a collective gasp. "He asked why the Order wanted him arrested, which means he knows I am a member. If he wanted to talk to you, Albus, why not surrender to me? If he knew what the Order is, he could have surrendered to me and asked me to speak to you."

"Maybe he doesn't trust you," said Rose. All eyes turned to her and she felt herself going red. "Well, what I mean is...he said there were spies in the Ministry. There might be spies in the Order."

"He would know if there were, Potter," sneered Snape. "He is high enough to know of most of the spies."

"Most but not all," said Dumbledore. "Only Tom himself knows all of them."

"He also saved my life," said a woman Rose had never seen before. She was younger than the rest, and had luminous pink hair. "MacNair had me, but Potter stunned him. He then winked at me and ran off."

"He also used stunning spells," said Dumbledore. "No Dark Curses, just stunner against the Aurors. Why this sudden aversion to killing? But let's move on. At the trial, did you catch everything he said? He said his parents were dead, that he had no sister. He believed that they had been murdered fifteen years ago."

"He also wanted to speak to you then," said Rose.

"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "Unfortunately, Crouch never informed me."

"Son of a..." began Sirius, before being elbowed in the ribs.

"But it demonstrates continuity," said Dumbledore. "Since his capture, he has tried to talk to me on several occasions."

"But that doesn't mean anything," said Snape. "He claimed that Voldemort had been defeated, that he has lived with his aunt and uncle. Maybe his mind has just snapped. His actions on the train were not those of a rational man, not that Potters are famous for being rational. I believe he may be getting paranoid and attacking anyone who he feels poses a threat to him, whether they are Death Eaters breaking him out of St Mungo's or Aurors trying to arrest him. Maybe he really has gone insane."

"Shut up!" said Lily harshly.

"Lily," Albus stopped her before anything else was said.

"If he's paranoid," said Rose. "Why is he only using harmless spells?"

"A good point, but there is more to consider," said Dumbledore. "As the Heliopath attacked, Harry shouted a warning to me, seconds before the witness exploded. He undoubtedly saved my life and that of Mr Crouch. Also, every hostage he took in his escape was released unharmed. Every spell he has used has been a stunner. When I looked into his eyes, I saw not the hatred and rage I had expected, but pain, almost despair. The boy is highly capable and highly lethal, but I believe that inside him there is a great battle going on. Some great pain drives him. I believe that I should meet with him. Whatever you believe the only one who can answer these questions is Harry himself."

There was a pause as everyone assimilated the information.

"What makes you think he won't kill you on sight?" asked Snape. "This could be an elaborate hoax to get you alone. We have seen the Dark Lord use long and slow schemes such as this before. He's a master manipulator. If Potter is there, there will be a high chance that he'll have ranking Death Eaters there. They will try to take you in."

"Or at least try to?" asked Shacklebolt.

"Irrelevant," said Snape. "Whether he could or not wouldn't matter. The Dark Lord's power has grown. He believes himself to be the Headmaster's superior. He is arrogant enough to try it. Potter would be the ideal pawn because of your emotional attachment to him. What makes you think this isn't treachery?"

"Because of the final piece of the puzzle," said Dumbledore. "Phoenixes are remarkable creatures. Harry sent a letter to me today, warning of the attack. It arrived five minutes before the train was attacked. You may think this was a distraction or part of another plan, but bare this in mind. He sent it by way of Fawkes. Fawkes came to him, and the only one who can summon a Phoenix is its master, or someone completely loyal to said master. Harry summoned Fawkes. He could not have done that if he had any ill intent towards me."

"So what does all this mean?" asked Lupin. "Is Harry a new person? Is he defecting, or is this one big wind up?"

"All questions I shall put to Harry," said Dumbledore. "I believe we have no choice but to meet him. Any objections, thought, suggestions?"

"But Trafalgar Square is so crowded," said Shacklebolt. "It will be impossible to cover you."

"Exactly Harry's intention," said Dumbledore. "It is crowded so that no one will use Magic. It will be easy to disappear. He can walk around without being spotted and if he senses any of you around he can disappear."

"You want to go without protection?" asked Mad-Eye.

"There is a high chance of someone magical being there, just out of chance," said Remus. "What if some innocent passer by went to the prophet and said that Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter had been seen together. It would destroy trust in both of you."

"An impostor?" suggested Anastasia.

"Harry would see through it," said Dumbledore. "He is also no fool. He will most likely check for magical forms of surveillance. He has escaped them himself very proficiently for years, he will know if I am 'wired' I believe the term is - Magically at least," he added as an afterthought.

"We have to do something," said James.

"So we do," said Dumbledore. "This is what I had in mind."

~~~~ + ~~~~

Nelson's column stood high and proud in the midday sun. Pigeons sat all over the marble structure while tourists and other Muggle bustled about below. The sky was clear and the sun warm. It was a peaceful day, save for the hustle and bustle that was central London. Far beneath Nelson himself, the square was alive with activity. Pigeons scattered as pedestrians walked through the square coming to land again before the old ladies who sprinkled bread over the floor. There are four pillars surrounding the base of the column. Three of them held statues of lions; one was bare. The original builders had run out of funding before it's completion. For years the National Trust and other National Heritage agencies had wanted to put something on the pedestal, but nothing had ever come of it. Famous artists had submitted suggestions; all of them had been turned down. Harry always wondered why they didn't just dig out the original designs and complete it how it was originally intended.

Harry stood inside a Newsagent to the east of the square. He had picked up a magazine called White Dwarf, though he wasn't reading it, just looking as if he was, while keeping a careful eye on the space beneath the empty pedestal. He checked his watch, 11:57. Dumbledore would be on time. The trouble was that his escort, and Harry knew he could have one, would be here as well.

Harry didn't know why everyone was acting strangely, and he didn't care anymore. Something was up and everyone was acting strangely. He didn't trust anyone. Albus Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard of the century. If anyone could sort it out it would be him but Harry didn't trust anyone anymore. He would have to watch Dumbledore very carefully. His mind had finally snapped. After all the pain and suffering of his school life, the murder of the tea-lady had finally topped it. Harry found himself not caring anymore. Upon his return the previous day he had been congratulated. Those who had survived the attack had been marked and then they had dined. The Dark Lord had kept himself to himself. He had watched a Muggle being tortured as he returned yesterday, but found no pity left in him. He mind filled only with the image of the tea-lady's eyes. He was alone in this. A Stranger in an Unholy Land and no one was going to help him. Dumbledore was his only hope of getting home, but he wasn't going to give away anything. He cared about one thing and one thing only, getting home.

He didn't know how he suddenly came into possession of all these powers and abilities, and he didn't give a rat's arse. All he knew was that he had them and he would use them however he had to get home, whatever the cost. He had to get things back to normal for he was the only one who could, the only one who remembered how it should be. He had excused himself from Grimmauld Place, telling people that he was going out for the day. He'd be back whenever he felt like it.

There! It was midday and a figure ion a grey business suit, with a long white beard was standing beneath the pedestal. Harry put the magazine back and walked out without buying anything, much to the annoyance of the shopkeeper. Harry pulled out his omnoculars. Putting them to his eyes and zooming in, Harry watched the square from the bus stop outside the shop. It was glass so he could see through it. He surveyed the crowds, looking for anyone loitering, looking attentive or dressed abnormally. Aurors could never pass themselves off as Muggles. Harry didn't know precisely what he was looking for, but he knew that he would know when he saw it.

There! By the fountain. A man in a business suit, holding a briefcase was standing, looking around. He seemed far too serious and attentive to be a tourist. He was looking for something. The briefcase has tucked under his arm, rather than carrying it by his handle. That made it heavier and it was not what someone waiting for his accomplice would do. He was standing, which someone waiting would not, not if there was an empty bench a few feet to his right. Harry quickly pulled the hood of the hooded jumper he was wearing up around his head. He was wearing trainers, sports shorts and a hooded top. He looked like a jogger, though he had his wand tucked into the waistband of his shorts.

Harry pocketed the omnioculars and jogged over towards the fountain. The Auror was next to the edge, looking around the crowds. Harry jogged around the left of the round fountain and over to the man. He stopped next to him, leaning over, his hand on his knees. Pretending he was getting his breath.

"Excuse me," Harry panted to the man. "Have you..." He trailed off. As the Auror leaned in closer trying to hear, Harry poked his wand into the man's gut. "Stupefy!" he whispered. The man's body went limp in his arms. Harry sat him on the edge of the fountain, leaning the unconscious body of the Auror against the statue on the edge. It looked as if he was sitting from a distance and asleep from close up. Hopefully, no one would intervene. It was then that Harry noticed the earpiece. A Walkman style earphone was in his left ear. Harry opened his jacket and pulled the wire. Out came a black walky-talky with a, earpiece and a mic on a wire. Harry quickly inserted it into his own ear, attached the mic to his jumper and put the radio in his pocket.

Alpha One in position by the buses. Negative contact, crackled a voice, in the radio. Harry glanced over at the busses. The Auror was wearing an orange Hawaiian shirt and blue shorts with flip-flops.

Alpha Two in position in the café, came another voice. No sign of Potter. There was a pause.

Alpha Three respond, said a voice. Harry recognised the distinctive growl. Alpha Three respond, growled Moody down the radio. Harry took a breath.

"Alpha Three in position by the fountain," he said making his voice much deeper. "Still no sign of him."

"Keep your eyes open,"

There were two more, plus Dumbledore and Moody was somewhere around. Harry didn't know where. He did have a radio, but that was only so much use. Harry suddenly had an idea. Between the pedestals, there is a recess, an area with limited visibility. He had a Portkey in his pocket. He had had a Death Eater make it for him. It would take them to the park on Magnolia Crescent, somewhere where Harry knew well. Harry took a deep breath it was now or never. He was thirty metres from Dumbledore. That was about a four or five seconds sprint. Harry took another deep breath and prepared himself for action.

He pulled the microphone to his mouth.

"I see him!" he whispered, keeping his voice deep. "He...bugger, he's spotted me. He's making for the ice cream stall. Cut him off! All units, go, go, go " Harry watched as six men started moving swiftly towards the Ice Cream shack on the north exit. Harry himself broke into a run straight to where Dumbledore was standing. Harry grabed his arm roughly as he passed, swinging him around like a clumsy dance, bringing both of them into the shielded recess.

"I said alone," said Harry angrily, lowering his hood.

"Would you have come alone, had I asked to meet you?" asked Dumbledore calmly. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

"Not here," snapped Harry angrily, reaching for the Portkey in his pocket.

"You're right," said Dumbledore gravely. "Not here. Forgive me, Harry." Harry then realised that the Headmaster's eyes were not looking at him, but over his shoulder. Harry realised too late that he was been caught. Suddenly he felt two sharp impacts on his arm. Two things had pierced his skin. They were like spikes. He turned around to see two metal sticks in his arms. Two wires came from the ends of them to a small back box held by a man in a suit. Harry recognised it instantly.

"Bollocks!" was all he had time to say. Hundreds of volts of electricity surged through his body, and the image of the man faded into darkness.

Harry was unconscious before he hit the ground.