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Weapon	By : uqui Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 105432 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 26
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 67
- 68
- 69
19/04/2012

Thank you to SuryaPrakash for the betaing. If there are mistakes, they are my fault.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'm very happy that people are enjoying the fic, and I fervently hope that they continue to enjoy the fic.

Weapon LXVIII – Let the Battle Begin

Voldemort slipped into Ollivander's shop. The wand maker had let him know that the wand was ready and the Dark Lord was very happy to have heard that. He wasn't sure exactly how he was going to use that wand, but he could feel that it was necessary. He'd come early since that was the quietest time and while he knew the wand maker would appreciate his discretion, he also didn't particularly wish to be found. It wasn't exactly common knowledge that he now used a wand of holly and that Harry bore one of yew and he wanted it to remain that way. The last thing either of them needed was someone looking into why that was.

He had his own suspicions but it was something he could look into after this year was over. It didn't matter to him especially as he, like Harry, found it no longer necessary to use a wand unless they were doing particularly delicate work. Brute power work was best done without a wand since they were likely to overpower one. He did find it amusing though, that the two of them were still paired with wands that contained feathers from Fawkes. He wondered what the phoenix thought of that or if it was a symbol of something else.

No matter. That was a thought for another day.

Ollivander brought out the wand on a small cushion. The oak had been polished smooth but somehow Voldemort could sense the weakness in the wood that wand maker had spoken off. He could also sense the feather that Harry had given him. It almost seemed asleep but its power thrummed clearly.

"As directed I used the blood of all types of dragons, but I made a few extra additions; a little Ashwinder blood, a single drop of basilisk venom and two drops of blood from a Runespore's planner head and three from the dreamer but none from the critic."

"Why the additions?"

Silver eyes looked towards him. "Given your affiliations, they seemed appropriate and for some reason the wand didn't feel happy without them."

Voldemort's red eyes narrowed as he looked at the wand. If he didn't know what was in the core he wouldn't have thought it anything special. It was well crafted but it looked like any other wand. It didn't call to him, it didn't whisper of magic to his senses. It didn't hum the way his wand did. Yet he still felt as if the wand was going to be necessary.

Ollivander watched his reactions. "I wish to ask, but I'm not sure if you will deign to answer me."

"It would depend on the question," the Dark Lord said softly.

"Where did you get the feather?"

Voldemort smiled. He had known that any question would be about the feather and with a flash of insight he decided to answer it truthfully. "It was given to me and yes, I am aware of exactly what it is."

Ollivander tensed. He had tested the feather, he knew what it was and he had speculated that the Dark Lord knew what it was but to have him confirm it was not something he had thought possible.

"And I can see your next question," Voldemort almost chuckled. "Did someone give it to me or did I get it from the owner?"

The wand maker nodded.

"I got it from a wizard," Voldemort said easily. Harry had been in wizard form when he had picked up the feather. "But they were very specific about where it came from and to be honest, despite the power I could feel from it, I did not quite believe it. Your surprise when I gave it to you confirmed it."

"You understand this puts me in a very difficult position?"

"I have no intention in interfering with your neutrality," Voldemort said.

"Mr. Riddle, regardless of your intentions you have something you should not. I am neutral, I watch and I destroy things like this and then reprimand the originator for being so careless."

The Dark Lord looked sharply at the wand but at that moment, it chose to give a little pulse of magic, almost as if it had been listening. To Voldemort the pulse felt like Harry though he could see that it just added to the confusion of the wand maker. He had felt it, but he still could not isolate who the feather had belonged to.

"I would say the originator wants me to have this feather," the red eyed man said softly.

"Their desires may not over-ride the rules."

"So they may not give gifts to anyone they want to?"

"It is not the act of gifting it is the act of possession."

Voldemort laughed! "Even with all my power, do you really think I could hold a full-blood against their will?"

"I think you'd try," Ollivander's silver eyes flashed dangerously and unconsciously he prepared to fight. Mr. Riddle had been far more forthcoming then he had believed possible but despite his best efforts and enhanced senses he could not feel the lie in the Dark Lord's voice or actions.

"If I tried, I would die for the effort. I am not so arrogant as to think I am that powerful," Voldemort paused, gathering his thoughts. "You can believe me or not, that is your choice, Mr. Ollivander, but I know you can feel the truth in my words. I am like all wizards, I can lie but I find the truth serves me so much better." He pulled out a small pouch of galleons from a pocket in his robe and with his other hand he picked up the wand, holding it not to use but still in display. "I cannot hold one of your kind and I am not going to try to but if one offers me assistance, then I will not deny their efforts." The bag of money landed on the counter as the wand disappeared into one of the Dark Lord's pocket sleeves.

Ollivander just watched. He hadn't requested payment for this wand. The payment of the core was enough but as the Dark Lord would not say no to help, he would not say no to galleons. "We are forbidden from interfering and there should be no physical traces of our presence. When I find them, and I will find who has provided you with this feather, then they will be punished. If the wand is still in your possession, I cannot guarantee what the decision will be regarding it or your disposition."

"We will see," Voldemort said as he turned to leave. "You have, as always, been most helpful Mr. Ollivander. I would bid you remember, your neutrality is not expected but is respected, even with your irritation over my possession of this particular feather. I bid you good day."

The wand maker was silent for a moment before he nodded tersely. There wasn't much he could do. He had thought about substituting the feather with something else but the Dark Lord would have noticed. It was not really something he'd considered that strongly. He'd been more focused on trying to find out who the feather had come from. It was not anyone that he knew and the limited testing he'd done to try to determine their bloodline merely showed that it was not one he recognised. That wasn't too surprising really since he didn't spend that much time with his own kind. He would have to ask the council. One feather probably shouldn't make that much difference, but one individual could and that's what they would have to avoid.

"I will remain neutral," Ollivander said to the Dark Lord, "Until I perceive a threat to my kind. I would not advise you to be that threat. You know me as a wand maker; you do not wish to know me in my other guise."

A ghost of a smile traced its way over Voldemort's inhuman lips and for the rest of his life, Ollivander would wonder if the smile was in response to his statement or to the volley of attack spells that crashed through the glass window, half hitting the Dark Lord and the other half absorbed by Ollivander's store front shields.

As Ollivander ducked behind his counter, the Dark Lord spun into the path of the second volley, his personal shield flaring as it absorbed the impacts. Even before Voldemort drew his wand to retaliate, shards of glass from the shattered window were banished towards the attackers. There were some cries of pain but nothing serious. It was almost incongruous when he walked out of Ollivander's shop and made sure to close the door behind him.

"Well, well, well, the Aurors," Voldemort greeted his attackers with a rich theatrical voice. Most of them were still hidden behind what little cover there was in the Alley and there was of course, no one else visible. As red eyes altered to see magic, he could see that the shop fronts had reinforced their shields as much as possible and some even showed signs of hastily established barricades.

"You are surrounded. Put your wand down and surrender."

The Serpent Lord was impressed. Whoever the Aurors had chosen to speak was confident, their voice didn't quaver with fear and their tone held no hint of worry. They could not be sure of the outcome but they were apt at pretending. He stretched his senses. Ollivander was behind his counter and from the vague feeling Voldemort could sense from the wand maker, he had not known the Aurors were going to attack. There were several Aurors on Ollivander's roof as well as several on surrounding buildings as well as tucked into the door ways of every shop and into the nooks and crannies that defined the Alley. The entrance to Knockturn Alley was blocked as was Gringotts and the brick wall that lead to the Leaky Cauldron.

He could feel the anti-apparition wards and he could see them already. Unlike the Azkaban wards they were not hidden as they had been rather hastily put up but they were strong and he could feel that the casters, four... no five wizards had worked together to raise the wards and they were holed up in Knockturn Alley, as far away as they could get. There was no chance he could knock them unconscious to down the wards, not unless he had gone through every other Auror here.

They were waiting for his reply. He should be as eloquent as possible. He raised both long fingered white hands as if in surrender his wand still held loosely, a small smirk on his lips and before the Aurors could respond he began the battle. "Avada Kedrava!" The Aurors were under what cover there was, but he could see enough of them to kill them. They had him at a slight disadvantage with their first volleys of spells; they should not have stopped to chat.

He gave the Aurors credit in their response time, or at least the Aurors on the roof since they replied to his casting almost before he'd finished it. Their curses didn't hit him as he'd run forward to engage those forces in the street, but they did cast very quickly. The street forces seemed strangely reluctant to fight him hand to hand and as yet another Auror scrambled out of his way, giving him the perfect opportunity to put an Avada Kedrava into the centre of their back, he understood why, when a jet of almost pure light shot down from above. Voldemort spun to counter it, forming his own power into a red light to throw back towards the rooftop Aurors.

As powerful as he was, he still staggered under the blow as the combined power of the Aurors struck him. He couldn't distinguish the individual power signatures in the force but it was clear that they were doing their best not to underestimate him. The ground Aurors took advantage of his distraction and fired various curse and hexes and he bared his teeth as they hit his protes shield, weakening it. It appeared none of them had the guts to try Avada Kedrava on him yet. The serpent within hissed. :I'll deal with the ground rats,: Xatarass declared coming awake and materialising with stunning clarity.

To the watching Aurors, it appeared as if the red robed Dark Lord was suddenly obscured as if by mist, and they found themselves squinting to bring him back into focus. Then they noticed the coils and instinctively their eyes began following them, around and around You-Know-Who's form. Those who were lucky followed the coils to the tail. Those who were unlucky followed the coils to the head, and the baleful yellow eyes of a Basilisk, and for one who was even more unlucky, those yellow eyes were the last thing they ever saw. Xatarass hissed and struck, uncoiling like a spring to extend towards the Aurors before coiling back around the Dark Lord.

Even as Voldemort poured power into the red light he was trying to determine what charm or curse or spell the Aurors were using. It was almost like the time with his beloved when they had caught each other in their spell fire, causing the prior incanti of their brother wands but it was different. There was no spell formed barrier for one and the force generated by the Aurors was coming from many wands. In a stray thought he wondered if their wands were as hot as his? He could feel the phoenix feather heating up as he channelled his power through it.

"Cutting charms!" He heard the call and knew it was directed towards Xatarass but he could not spare any power for the Basilisk. After all his japes and complaints and mocking, not to mention the attacks his forces had been carrying out on a daily basis, it appeared the Ministry was finally taking him seriously and they had brought an impressive array of power to bear. He couldn't sense anyone from the Order of the Phoenix or any vampires or other races so it seemed that this was just the Ministry who were at least pretending to be what they should be. He grinned, and poured more power into his counter charm.

Xatarass twisted and turned and avoided most of the cutting charms directed towards him. He could hear the curses from the Aurors and smell their fear as he spun around the Dark Lord. He'd gotten one with his teeth earlier and the others were being more careful now. They were staying out of range of his attacks and they had all drawn veils across their eyes. He had paralysed a few but had been unable to bite them. The gauze around their heads had flared and burnt away but it protected them from death. He had a few nicks and cuts from their charms and so far none of them had even attempted to conjure a rooster, not that a conjured one would do any good, only a real one was fatal to him.

There was an odd cracking sound and Xatarass hissed as a whip wrapped itself around his neck and was very quickly pulled taut, holding him in place! "There's only one way to deal with a snake," one of the Aurors shouted, "Cut off its head!" They renewed the barrage of cutting charms and as Xatarass desperately flicked his tail at the charms trying to block them as he struggled against the magically reinforced rope of the whip, he knew he wasn't going to break free in time and took the only course available to him. There was a flare of darkness and the rope fell to the ground as the great Serpent disappeared back into the body of the Dark Lord.

The charms crashed into one of the buildings and there was a great puff of dust and debris which obscured everything. There was a sizzle and the smell of burning as the dust encountered the two energy streams. For the moment the Aurors didn't care and after a shouted command they began casting charms at the Dark Lord who was still struggling against the power their fellows had generated.

For his part, Voldemort grunted as the Aurors charms hit home, some getting through his quickly weakening shield charm. He was still using all of his power against the roof top Aurors who were pouring everything they had into the spell. He almost wished he'd brought some guards but nothing could be changed now. He strained and renewed his protes shield as several charms impacted his body, but that was all he could spare for that. He was thankful that on the whole the Aurors were loath to use Avada Kedrava.

In hindsight, while he was invested in the spell borne struggle against the roof top Aurors, he should have been paying more attention to the ground ones. They had been content to cast at him from a distance and he didn't feel the Auror who had been creeping through the available cover coming around on his right side. It wasn't until pain blossomed in his chest that he realised they were there.

Instinct took over at that point and Voldemort spun, stepping back and to his left, breaking the spell connection with the roof top Aurors even as he dodged the beam he had been holding off. His attacker was not so lucky and they stumbled forward into the spell. The Aurors scream was brief as the spell slammed into him, burning through the protections on all Auror robes in an instant before it cut through his body. As the Dark Lord's right arm lowered, he felt the press of the dagger as it cut through his robes into his bicep. He could feel his robes sticking to his side as his blood seeped into them and some dripped thickly to the ground. His right hand went to the daggers hilt, wrapping around it to hold the blade steady to avoid further damage. He hissed in pain, before his left hand reached out, fingers extended as if the grasp an object that was not there. He ignored the spells the Aurors were raining down upon him as he forced his eyes to focus on the wards again. The anti-apparition wards were easily spotted and there was nothing in the way of his usual finesse or subtlety as he grabbed at them with a magical hand, ripping them into shreds before he apparated away.

In the depths of the Dark Lord's stronghold it was cold. Most people might expect it to be warm to keep the serpents happy, but the snakes did not come here. The lowest levels, with no windows, were dank and cold and belonged to the Dementors. Ice ran over the walls, reinforced by the Dementors' presence and melted by the warm bodies of the wizards they had here. It was not silent here. Screams were infrequent, but there was a constant tone of painful moans and agonised groans. The drip of water and the soft passage of the wind through the corridors were score of this place.

It was also dark. The Dementors had no need of light. They had eyes, but they did not rely upon them and so the only light that penetrated into their place was the fitfully burning torch at the top of the stairs that lead down to their level. And its light didn't stretch far, a dozen steps perhaps, steps that got icier with each decent.

The Dementors had been very pleased when the Dark Lord had merely flipped one hand and said the place was theirs if they wanted it. They had the run of the castle, and a few patrolled through the dungeons and the upper levels, but most remained with the prisoners they had, the ones being turned into Dementors. Their souls had been removed at Azkaban before they were transported here where a tiny piece of a soul, any soul, had been given back to their bodies. At present, the bodies were being tortured and their minds striped of anything that might be remotely considered pleasant. They were also being fed only the barest minimum to support life and already most were emaciated beyond recognition.

Despite the fact that it hadn't even been two months, some of the older Dementors thought that a few of their prisoners were ready to be born. Their magic, one of the only things still sustaining them, was already beginning to twist and turn. It was weak, but their magic was already producing the cold the Dementors were known for. Once that occurred, the prisoner would be separated from the others and two of the older Dementors would stay with them for the next few days, touching them, holding them, caressing them, letting their magical core feel them, letting their hatred, their anger, run wild through what was left of their bodies. Their magical core absorbed the emotions and by exposure to the other like cores, those of the older Dementors, they changed, and in changing, altered what was left of the body. And once that was done, the little piece of soul that had been returned to the body, the one that allowed them to feel, the one that kept them mortal, kept them human was removed again and this time it was fed to the new formed Dementor as their first meal.

The Shadows were very happy in the dark. The Dementors' activities did not bother them and the Dementors themselves were not troubled by the Shadows that watched on. The Muggle prisoners were spread amongst the wizards from Azkaban and so the Dementors were very attentive in making sure the bodies still twitched and shivered with the cold. They were fed slightly more than the wizards, but not much. Their lives were all that was important, nothing more.

One Shadow dropped to the ground and seemed to spread over the four prisoners who were awake. They had just been returned from the chambers above and they were still twitching with the effects of the Cruiciatus curse and other hexes. They had the glassy-eyed stare of the lost and the Shadow radiated a sense of pleasure.

:Dementor,: the Shadow whispered and three Dementors turned towards it.

"Yes," one answered, its voice like the whisper of wind over snow.

:Please gather the Muggle prisoners together,: the Shadow instructed.

The Dementors nodded their understanding and turned away as they both sensed the change in the stronghold. Voldemort had returned above but there was something wrong. Several Dementors flowed passed the spluttering torch to find out what was different, even as the Shadow surged up into the pitch darkness near the ceiling where the sense of its presence faded entirely.

Iavor continued working as he thought. He had been speaking a bit more freely at the pub after work and he had noticed a few patrons taking an interest in him or at least an interest in his information, but he didn't know if they were Death Eaters. He supposed that was the point. If everyone could tell they were Death Eaters then they wouldn't be very scary; lately though there had been a few odd orders. He'd processed them of course. He couldn't just ignore them but he had taken special note of what was being ordered and for whom. There were two things odd about the orders. The first was that they were orders for the goblins! The second was that they were orders for parts. Usually when the Ministry ordered something, it wasn't parts; it was the completed device.

The ex-Hufflepuff student had thought about it for a while and had drawn the only conclusion he could. The Goblins were making something for the Ministry. And they were making a lot of them! It was hard to tell what it might be based on the orders Iavor had seen and since he wasn't the only worker in his Department, he doubted he'd seen every order. But since it wasn't for armour or potions he supposed it was some sort of device. If he allowed that to be true, then what skills did the goblins have, what could they make that the Ministry could not? Sure, Goblin crafted armour and weapons were considered superior, but the orders weren't for armour and weapon parts. It was odd, it was for crystals and some weird liquid and the weirdest thing was that it also included a heap of muggle things. That was one of the reasons Iavor had noticed the orders in the first place.

"You aren't going to believe this!" The shout reverberated around the office and most of the workers looked up to see a young witch rush into the room. "The Aurors just fought You-Know-Who in Diagon Alley!"

"What?" Most of the room buzzed and got up so that they could ask further questions. Iavor remained where he was. What was the point? He already knew what the report would be and most of those buzzing around were just after gossip. The Aurors fought the Dark Lord in Diagon Alley, after a pitched battle, assuming You-Know-Who was alone, he apparated away. The way she had said it indicated it wasn't a battle, but while Iavor could feel the excitement he could also feel the fear.

If the Dark Lord was in Daigon Alley, where else might he be? And of course the other implication was that the Dark Lord could fight off all the Aurors by himself! The fear was already setting in; the cold in the pit of the stomach, the tightness in the back of the throat and the shiver. They weren't feeling it yet, but soon, once the excitement and the fun of the gossip faded then the feeling would grow. People were so predictable.

Iavor couldn't remember much of the first war, but he knew this time the Dark Lord was attacking openly. The fear of the unknown was not the same as before. It was different this time. Everyone knew the Dark Forces were there. They still didn't know whom were Death Eaters, but they knew they existed. That's why the true fear wouldn't set in until later.

He listened to the witch as she went on about how many the Aurors had lost in the battle. Iavor looked up with a frown. While there were patrols of Diagon Alley and other places, how did they know that the Dark Lord was there? Was it an accident that he had been found? Had he attacked? Did the Aurors track him? While it was easy to track students and their wands, Iavor could not imagine the Dark Lord being so sloppy as to have a traceable wand... Nor could he imagine the Dark Lord being so sloppy as to be accidentally found which meant that Aurors were tracking or had a tip off.

If it was a tip off then the Aurors had been lucky, but what if they were tracking?

Iavor blinked as the pieces began falling into place in his mind. It might be a stretch but it explained things. The Aurors had not gotten lucky; they had found a way of tracking adult wizards and of course the main one they needed to track was the Dark Lord himself and they'd found him and died. And that would continue. That wasn't how it was meant to be! If the Ministry was allying with all the non-humans then they were meant to be the ones dying. The Ministry didn't have enough people... the wizarding world didn't have enough people to take the Dark Lord on head on. They'd proven that in the last major battle. Did no one in the Ministry besides himself remember history?

He shuddered as his imagination provided him with scenes of carnage. The Ministry had found the Dark Lord's strong hold, and they had stormed it. The fine Aurors and everyone else who could fight gathered for the task. And they'd been defeated and in the castle corridors, which looked suspiciously like Hogwarts, the bodies lay strewn around almost carelessly. He could feel You-Know-Who holding court in the main hall, but in his mind Iavor could feel one more thing. Wizards were doomed. By the Ministry's action of attack and the Dark Lord's defence, they had killed too many.

"All right you mob, back to work!" Iavor was brought out of his vision as their supervisor's supervisor stepped into the room. The wizard's eyes swept over the gossiping workers and for an instant their eyes met and Iavor was sure his position, still at his desk, was noted and approved of. As the others began to return to their desks, grumbling to themselves softly the wizard walked to the front of the room. He was holding something odd. It was sort of round and glowed faintly but there were some wires stuck into it at odd angles.

"This is the news, so that you don't rely on gossip. This morning the Aurors faced off against You-Know-Who in Diagon Alley. It's not known why he was there, but inquiries are being made. There was a brief scuffle and seven Aurors were killed - God rest their souls - before You-Know-Who pulled down the anti apparation wards and escaped. The extent of his injuries is unknown but he was injured.

"Now I know what you are thinking. It's bad, seven Aurors are dead and he still escapes. Yes, the loss is not good, but this is just the beginning of this war. Make no mistake, it's regrettable, but there will be further losses. Today was an unexpected battle, the Order of the Phoenix, the Vampire Clans and the troops promised by the Goblins were not present, but today showed You-Know-Who that we are prepared and able to find and to fight him. Despite the fact that the Ministry's allies were not present, I want you to spread the word, today's battle, catching the Dark Lord unawares was the result of collaboration with the Goblins and a little trinket they made." The wizard held up the device he was holding. "This device detects magical signatures. At the moment they are only in key locations but soon they will be spread throughout the Isles and we will take the battle to the Dark Forces.

"Today marked the beginning of the battle, but it also signals the inevitable end. While I'm sure the families of the Aurors who died today will not agree, in time they will see today's battle as the beginning of the end and they will acknowledge that the alliances the Ministry had made, are for the benefit of all wizards!

"Now get back to work!"

Iavor picked up his stamp again as the Supervisor stood still for a few minutes more, watching as the rest of them almost sullenly resumed stamping. His suspicions had just been confirmed. The Ministry would soon have the ability to track adult wizards and while that sounded great in battle situation, there were just a few things that had obviously not been considered or were being glossed over. Tracking was a gross invasion of privacy. Even the spells on underage witches and wizards didn't track them, but instead just monitored and reported in when something went wrong. The Ministry now had in its hands the ability to track every wizard all the time and as soon as the devices were created and deployed, he had no doubt that that was what they would do under the guise of finding and fighting the Dark Lord's forces... But after the war... would they really give up that power? Iavor was not so naive as to believe the answer would be yes.

The other concern was with the numbers. If the Dark Lord had taken out seven Aurors today and he had been ambushed, how many more could he take out when he appeared prepared to fight? His vision of carnage was more accurate than he knew. The Ministry might very well defeat this Dark Lord but the cost would be everything.

And once again the thought went through his mind. What can I do?

And once again the answer was that joining the Dark Forces would only give them one more mediocre fighter. It was an option, just not a good one. Information would only go so far. He did not have access to the monitors' devices so that would do no good and he knew the Dark Lord would very quickly insinuate his own people into the monitors. That would take some time, and while the Ministry forces were taking advantage of their ability to track the Dark Forces, both sides would be weakening.

:You need to tell them about the devices,: Iavor's mind whispered to him.

He froze. There were two things wrong with that thought. Telling the Dark Forces point blank that something was happening was akin to joining. He wasn't averse to gossiping but he didn't think he was ready to actually join them. And no matter how much the Ministry might pretend otherwise, the Dark Forces were not stupid. They would very quickly know that the Ministry was tracking them. If he was going to gossip, it had to be about something else.

:Don't tell them, write a letter,: his mind helpfully supplied the alternative to one of his problems.

A letter was the same as telling them. A letter implied it was being sent and if ever found would be proof of his duplicity. Even if he wrote one though, and Iavor laughed internally at the thought of addressing such correspondence, what would he say?

:Write a journal then. That's only going to be for yourself. You have to tell someone!:

He did have to tell someone. This knowledge was already eating him and he'd been sitting here for half an hour! But if he was hypothetically trying to warn the Dark Forces what would he tell them? The first sentence was easy. The Ministry can track you. The second was elusive until he realised the blatantly obvious. If you knew someone could track you, you generally wanted to know how they did it and if you were the Dark Forces you would want to know what components went into the tracking devices. Iavor didn't know all the components but hopefully he knew enough.

He might be the only one who could see it but he knew that the Ministry and the Dark Forces could no longer continue weaken each other. The Ministry had already lost when they had signed all the treaties with the various non-humans while the Dark Forces had maintained true to their desires... and were closer to his. He'd serve the Ministry, but he was not going to be loyal. All he wanted was for wizards to be where they should, but fate seemed to be conspiring against him.

:Conspire back,: his mind said cheekily.

As he kept stamping the papers he smiled. When he thought things like that, he wondered how well he knew himself, but it was the truth. At school he'd watched the Slytherins. As a Hufflepuff, he'd had to as that was the only way of trying to remain safe. But one thing he had noticed was that they went after what they wanted. Not always obviously, they were serpents after all so they were sometimes rather roundabout in their attempts, but they were not afraid to try.

Death awaited him if he was caught, but death awaited them all if he did not try. He might, like all witches and wizards, fear the Dark Lord, but in this, he could not be afraid to try.

"I'm going to do it."

Blaise looked up at the soft confession. There were a few of them in the Common Room but most of their House was out either enjoying the day or watching the last practice before Slythern's first Quidditch game. No matter the splits in their House and the war that was raging in the wizarding world, Quidditch went on. Apparently the team had decided that even if politics lead them to fight, they would suspend that battle within the Quidditch pitch. It would look odd to the rest of the school if they didn't so Slytherin still had a Quidditch team and they could still play Hufflepuff. Regardless, there were a few members of their House that had no interest in the sport and were using the time to study or for other things.

The two of them were doing their homework in the Common Room. It was safer here than the Library. While they were somewhat outcast from their own house, no one would attack them here, but they were both waiting for the axe to fall.

"Do you really think it will do any good?" he asked just as quietly.

Millicent up looked through the gentle green light, tears forming in her eyes. "I don't know," she said. "But I can't stand it anymore. I have to try something!"

Zabini sat back and closed his eyes. He knew what she meant. They had avoided Harry as much as they could this year though it was sometimes difficult given that they shared quite a few classes. He hadn't done anything either. He hadn't glared, he hadn't given then sly glances, he hadn't spoken to either of them. It was almost as if he was content to forget, but neither of them believed that. That might be the Hufflepuff way, but it was not the Gryffindor way. He was waiting and they were caught up.

He had been more patient than either of them had thought he could be and it appeared Millicent was at her limit.

"What will you do?"

"The only thing I can," she replied. "Apologise. If I have to I'll go down on my knees and beg."

"How very Gryffindor of you."

"Well what do you suggest?" She snapped, voice harsh with anger.

It was Blaise's turn to look up through the light to the window. He was silent for a few moments before he frowned. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I really don't know. I know the Zabini Clan is hoping he will strike at me and forget the rest of them... Well, that's their last resort. They are hoping he will demand compensation first, but if I have to, I'll accept any punishment."

"You got it easy. What's left of my family just made me outcast."

"So you are trying to be accepted again?"

"No," Millicent was firm. "They won't ever accept me back." She looked down at the floor, her eyes distant. "But I have to protect Magstine," she whispered.

Blaise nodded. "If you are serious about this then I won't stop you, but don't expect him to accept it. Though to be honest, I don't think he'll go after Magstine since she didn't know."

"I can't take that risk."

"All right, when will you do it?"

" The only time I can think of is Halloween when I might be able to get even a second of privacy."

He sighed. "I wish you luck, Millicent. I really do and I hope it works."

"But you don't think it will."

"I don't know. Heh, we are meant to be Slytherin, able to read people, but I can't read him. I have no idea how he will react. He might accept it, he might not. I really just don't know."

And that was the final word on the matter.

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