Year 7-09: The Phantom Menace

As the fall term progressed, things settled into relative normalcy around Hogwarts – or as normal as they could be, given the circumstances. Students continued to ignore Harry and everyone associated with him like the plague – so too did the professors, who seemed just as concerned about drawing negative attention as the students did. It was isolating, to be put on such a pedestal and forced to lord over his peers like they were beneath him, as if Harry's morbid vision in the Mirror of Erised had come true.

But the isolation also gave him some modicum of freedom. He was able to research whatever he pleased in the library, his Head Boy status granting him unfettered access to the Restricted Section. Madam Pince did not even bother to make him check out his books, avoiding his gaze like the rest of the staff as he carted heavy volumes in and out. If Harry was forced to spend another year in the school, he might as well take full advantage of all the knowledge it contained.

Unfortunately, there was barely any literature about his current preoccupation: the school wards. As far as he could tell, they were largely Dumbledore's creation, likely in response to the rising threat of Voldemort in the 70's. Only a handful of enchantments were mentioned in tomes like Hogwarts, A History, and they mainly pertained to student safety, like the Cushioning Charms on the Quidditch pitch or the Feather-Falling Charms around the moving staircases. No mention of anti-transportation wards or how they functioned.

So Harry would have to continue his own manual research on the subject. He traveled once more to the cliffside cave housing the ward stones, but even after hours of study he was unable to make any sense of their design. He knew that unless he could convince Snape to give him the password, he would never be able to alter their design. So he put such plans on the back-burner for now.

But it did not put a stop to all of his schemes. Late one night, he waited in his dorm for Daphne to go to sleep before pulling out the Marauder's Map and activating it. The castle was clear, save for a pair of prefects patrolling the southern wing. He hustled to the third floor corridor, locating the one-eyed witch statue and tapping his wand to its hump, whispering "Dissendium" before sliding into the hidden passageway beyond.

Harry had no intentions of spending all his time in the castle this year – there was too much to do outside of it. Besides, if something bad were to happen requiring one of his family members to flee, their Portkeys would not work unless they were outside the ward boundary. With his original plan of modifying the school wards a no-go, he now had to find the next-quickest method of escaping their constraints.

He scurried down the tunnel leading to Hogsmeade, keeping his pace slow to feel the latent magic in the air. For good measure, he widened the tunnel as he went, so that one could stand nearly upright within the confined space rather than crawl on all fours. If haste became a priority, it wouldn't do to be in such cramped quarters with hostiles in pursuit.

He walked for what felt like ages, but what he knew was likely just a quarter-mile or so. Finally, he felt the magic in the air shift, like a subtle weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He turned and Apparated on the spot, emerging in the cool night air outside Hogsmeade, before turning again and returning to the same place within the tunnel.

Harry drew his wand and carved a thick line into the dirt floor and walls. For good measure, he added a permanent Glowing Charm to the line, so that even someone running in complete darkness would know when they reached the ward boundary. If Dahlia or Damian or someone else needed to escape, they would have a clear visual clue for when they had crossed the threshold that would allow them to activate their Portkey. Satisfied, Harry turned and hurried back towards the castle.

He knew that his work was not yet complete, of course. If he found himself outside of the school when his Dark Mark was activated, he would still have a long journey to get back to Snape's office in time. Besides, neither Dahlia and Damian could Apparate, and their Portkeys could only take them one way, so what happened if they got to Raven House and were stuck there for a prolonged period of time? If Harry or Fleur was unable to retrieve them, they would have to find their way home by foot, and Raven House was nowhere near any magical community.

He was still doing research on multi-destination Portkeys that could take the user somewhere different depending on the activation phrase they used. He knew logically that it must be possible – the underlying magic involved wasn't that complicated – but he had yet to make it work in practice. Overloading one device with so many enchantments caused issues he didn't want to deal with, and the last thing he wanted was to give his loved ones a faulty device that might fail to work, or worse, attempt to take them several places at once.

Harry finally reached the end of the passageway and paused at the exit, pulling out the Marauder's Map to check if the coast was clear. The prefects were still far away, but to his surprise, he saw a dozen or so names up near the Astronomy Tower, spreading out across the castle. As he watched, more students' names began to materialize out of nowhere, no doubt exiting the Room of Requirement and sneaking back to their dorms.

The last name to appear was Ginny Weasley, who began to hurry back towards Gryffindor Tower. Harry stowed the Map away and exited the passageway, heading not to his dorm, but to the seventh floor. He had to put his foot down before this new development got out of hand.

The Fat Lady was still sleeping when Harry arrived – no Gryffindors had returned yet. He Disillusioned himself and stepped into an alcove to wait. Students began to trickle back in pairs, sneaking up to the portrait and whispering the password before slipping through the portrait hole and into the common room. Harry let them go – no need to scare them just yet. He knew who the true ringleader was that he needed to scare straight.

Ginny eventually emerged alone, sneaking stealthily down the corridor towards the portrait. Harry waited until she passed by the alcove before lunging out and grabbing her by the arm, Silencing her and pulling her into the alcove with him. Ginny began to scream silently and punch and kick at him, but Harry held her at arm's length, removing his own enchantment and holding a finger to his lips for quiet. When she finally relented and crossed her arms angrily at him, he removed the Silencing Charm on her.

"Out past curfew, Miss Weasley?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, what of it?" Ginny said defiantly. "Gonna give me detention? 'Fraid I'm all booked with the Carrows until December."

"What were you doing out this late?" Harry demanded. "Just out for a stroll?"

"Got hungry," Ginny shrugged. "Went down to the kitchens for a snack. Is that a crime?"

"No," said Harry. "But training a resistance army certainly is."

Ginny's nose twitched slightly, which he knew from years of experience was a tell that she was nervous. "I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered.

"So you weren't meeting with two dozen other students in the Room of Requirement, then?" Harry pressed. "And you haven't been pulling up flyers advertising a secret dueling club to resist the Carrows?"

Ginny's face paled considerably – she knew now that she'd been caught red-handed. "What do you want?" she asked quietly.

"I want it to stop," said Harry simply. "No more meetings. No more student rebellions. Do you realize how dangerous what you're doing is?"

"Maybe I don't care," Ginny sniffed. "Maybe some things are worth the risk. Maybe I'd rather die on my feet than live on my knees."

"Easy to say that for yourself," said Harry. "Not so easy when you consider how your family might suffer as a consequence of your actions. What d'you think might happen to your father if you refuse to stay in line? How many more of your brothers might be put in danger?"

"Is that a threat?" Ginny growled. Harry realized that, in her eyes, he was the threat to her brothers. That hadn't been his intention, but if the goal was to scare her straight, he might as well run with it.

"Yes, it is," Harry said softly, taking a step towards Ginny as she shrunk into the wall. "You need to watch your back, Weasley, or you'll get something much worse than detention or point deductions. Consider yourself lucky that it was me who caught you instead of the Carrows."

Ginny looked suitably cowed now, flinching away from Harry as he towered over her. "May I go to bed now, sir?" she asked in a defeated voice.

Harry nodded and backed away, allowing her to scurry out of the alcove towards the Fat Lady. She whispered the password, glancing worriedly at Harry once more before disappearing through the portrait hole. Harry hoped that this would be enough to convince her to stop, to consider the risk she was incurring with her actions. But knowing the Weasley family, there was always the chance that it would just galvanize her to cross the line even further.

He meant what he'd said to her, though – the Carrows were the real danger she needed to look out for. They continued to give Harry dirty looks in classes and at meals, and students constantly complained about the verbal abuse they suffered under their rule. But so far, nothing truly heinous had occurred to warrant intervention...Snape must be keeping them in line. As September rolled into October, Harry began to feel hopeful that he could escape the year without major incident.

Unfortunately, things clearly were not all sunny in the real world either. Harry entered the Great Hall for breakfast one morning, only for Daphne Greengrass to brush past him in the opposite direction, clearly in tears. The Slytherin table was openly laughing in her direction, which told Harry that something must have happened. Both Carrows also had smirks on their faces as Harry approached the Head Table – never a good sign.

Harry got his answer when he found a copy of The Daily Prophet unfolded at Daphne's empty seat. He picked it up to read for himself, stomach dropping when he saw a picture of her father staring back at him below the headline:

PROMINENT WIZENGAMOT MEMBER ARRESTED FOR FRAUD!

By Alexander Sommerbee, The Daily Prophet

"Longtime Wizengamot member Dale Greengrass was arrested late Wednesday night on suspicion of forgery and manipulation of Ministry records. He was caught by Dolores Umbridge, Head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission, who encountered Lord Greengrass in her office after hours, snooping through her files. Aurors arrested Lord Greengrass on suspicion of tampering with the official records of Muggle-borns in Great Britain.

'I take my job of protecting Britain's magical population quite seriously,' said Madam Umbridge in a statement to the press. 'I am appalled at this security breach that has compromised my ability to bring wrong-doers to justice. I call on Minister Potter to address this lapse and allow me to do my job properly.'

Minister Potter apologized for the incident and condemned Lord Greengrass' efforts. 'It seems that [Greengrass] developed a misguided conscience about the people slated for questioning under our new laws,' he said in a statement. 'He will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, and an inquiry will be opened into how he accessed Madam Umbridge's office. I remain committed to bringing deviant Muggle-borns to justice and ensuring the security of our world.'

Greengrass' charges come with a minimum sentence of one year in Azkaban if convicted, and he may be stripped of his lordship, which seems likely to happen in today's political climate. Minister Potter has recently been dealing with reports of an underground smuggling operation, as rebel forces seek to subvert justice by allowing accused Muggle-borns to escape Britain via illegal international Portkeys.

'We continue to ask the public for any leads as to the identities and whereabouts of these smugglers,' said Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE. 'These criminals are engaging in conspiracy against Britain and preventing our justice system from doing its job. We will be investigating whether Lord Greengrass had any contact or affiliation with the smuggling operation and if further punishment is warranted.'

For more on the suspected conspirators' identities, see pg. 9."

Harry's stomach squirmed as he set down the Prophet. He knew how much family reputation meant to Daphne, and what a blow this would be to her. The Slytherin table was loudly discussing the article with glee, clearly thrilled with the prospect of Daphne being knocked down a peg. Amycus Carrow also appeared delighted by the turn of events, chuckling loudly two seats away from Harry.

"Looks like yer little girlfriend ain't too happy about the news," he chortled. "Maybe hotlegs won't act so high 'n mighty from now on."

Harry kept his mouth shut, knowing that Amycus was just hoping to get a rise out of him. The man had yet to make good on his earlier promise to 'break' Harry this term, and Harry did not want to give him the chance. He excused himself from the table and left the Hall in search of Daphne.

Her bedroom door was closed when Harry returned to their adjacent dorms. He knew thanks to the Map that she was inside, but she refused to answer when he knocked on the door.

"C'mon, Daph, it's not that bad," Harry called out. "A year in Azkaban isn't so terrible...they don't even have dementors there anymore."

"Go away," Daphne said miserably from inside.

"It'll blow over eventually," said Harry. "The Prophet always makes things out to be worse than they are...my dad and Amelia Bones won't let anything terrible happen to him."

But there was no coaxing Daphne out of her room that day, or for the remainder of the week. She remained shut in her room, skipping classes and meals, unable to show her face. Harry would have worried for her health if he had not spied her on the Map sneaking down to the kitchens in the dead of night for food. He was more concerned about her mental state in the aftermath of such a scandal, which she was not as accustomed to being the subject of as he was.

Just give her time, Fleur wrote when Harry explained the situation to her in the diary one evening. Reputation matters more to her than anything. Things will get better, but she needs time to process.

I just don't like to see my friends hurting, Harry wrote back. I feel like there's nothing I can do to fix it.

A typical male answer, said Fleur. Things don't always need 'fixing'. Sometimes a woman just needs somebody to listen. So the best thing you can do is be there for her when she is ready to talk.

Harry was glad for the guidance. He was not the best at reading or responding to Daphne's moods...Ron had always been oddly equipped for that job. He knew how to get the heiress out of her own head and stop her from spiraling. It was what made the two of them such a good couple, and why Harry knew he and Daphne would have been a disastrous one.

So he carried on with his own routine, hoping that Daphne would come around on her own. He regularly snuck a handful of fresh blueberry muffins out of the Hall at breakfast, leaving them outside her door under a Stasis Charm, knowing it was her favorite confection at meals. At least it made him feel somewhat useful in such a helpless situation.

Meanwhile, Harry worried what other repercussions might come from this incident. Had Dale been acting of his own accord? Or had his own father been involved in the scheme somehow? James had already manipulated the Muggle-born records once before, instructing Amelia Bones to alter Damian's file – was this a similar case? Surely if the Minister of Magic was implicated, it would have been reported along with Dale's arrest, wouldn't it?

Unless Voldemort still plans to use Dad for more legislation, Harry realized. He knew that this arrangement was only temporary, after all – the Dark Lord would only use the Potters as long as they remained useful to him as a scapegoat. So far that remained true, but if it didn't, James would be the first person on the chopping block. But there was no use in worrying about something so out of his control.

In Daphne's absence, Harry found himself spending more time with Luna than he'd planned. Neither of them had other friends that would associate with him, and despite his hesitance to tie Luna's fate to his own in the other students' minds, he appreciated her company. Her cheery attitude was a welcome reprieve from the gloom and doom of the world around them, and he enjoyed listening to her ramble about nothing in particular.

Not everything in Luna's life was sunshine and rainbows, of course. "Oh look, there goes Demelza," she remarked one afternoon as the girl walked past their table at the library, flanked by her Gryffindor Quidditch teammates. "It's been a while since we've spoken."

"Are you two not together anymore?" Harry frowned.

"Oh, no," Luna shrugged. "She said that she wanted to focus more on Quidditch this term. But personally, I think she just doesn't want to associate with me right now."

Harry winced...that was precisely what he was afraid of. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "You must miss her."

"Demelza is a good person," Luna smiled sadly. "I enjoyed her company. But if she decides she is happier without me, I can't be upset with her decision, can I?"

"That's very mature of you to say, Luna," said Harry, surprised as always by the flashes of profundity she could produce out of nowhere. "But your feelings matter too. It's okay to be upset, even if you don't blame her."

"True," said Luna. But she did not elaborate on the matter further, and Harry sensed that she was more bothered about the break-up than she was letting on. But as with Daphne, he would not pry, figuring that Luna wouldn't appreciate those wounds being reopened while they were still fresh. It was a reminder that even the most upbeat of people had their problems too in times like these.

Harry took the time to visit his sister in the Hospital Wing as often as he could, joining her for the occasional homework session there. Madam Pomfrey normally would have protested, but she gave them a wide berth, as did the rest of the staff. Dahlia was not one to complain about her troubles either, and Harry would not make the mistake of assuming she had none as a result.

They received an unexpected visitor one afternoon, when Astoria Greengrass entered the wing and timidly approached them. "Dahlia?" she asked. "Can we talk?"

"Erm...okay," said a surprised Dahlia. Astoria sat on the nearby bed beside her, wringing her hands together.

"I wanted to say sorry," Astoria muttered. "For icing you out to begin the term. It wasn't fair to you."

Damn right it wasn't, Harry thought grumpily. If he was in Dahlia's shoes, he would have given Astoria a piece of his mind about the way she'd treated her own friends and family, especially given the turmoil Daphne was going through now. But Dahlia took the high road, wrapping Astoria in a tight hug at once.

"I'm so sorry about your father," Dahlia whispered. "He tried to do the right thing, and he's being demonized for it."

Astoria broke down at once, clinging tightly to Dahlia with relief. "I'm so frightened for him," she sniffled. "I thought I could distance myself from my parents' decisions, but I can't...I love them, and Daddy has always done what he thinks is right."

"I know," Dahlia reassured her. "My dad wouldn't have worked with him if he didn't."

Harry awkwardly dismissed himself to let the two friends reconcile. He wished it was so easy to repair his own broken friendships, but somehow he didn't see himself hugging Ron or Neville any time soon. It was more likely that they would come to blows, if not lethal spellfire. They would have to cross paths again eventually before this war ended, and that was a conversation Harry was not looking forward to.

Meanwhile, Harry continued to scheme ways to obtain the Sorting Hat from Snape's office. To his chagrin, the man worked late hours into the night, pacing around his office doing Merlin knows what. Harry only knew this because he checked the Marauder's Map every few hours throughout the night, interrupting his own sleep to do. There was never a clean window to sneak in and grab the Hat, and even if there was, Harry wasn't sure if he could even get away with it.

He kept an eye on his loved ones on the Map as well. Damian still appeared isolated from his fellow Puffs, but at least he still co-existed peacefully with them in the common room. Dahlia, on the other hand, appeared to have swapped dorms with a fifth-year, bunking with Astoria rather than Ginny, reminiscent of Neville's arrangement with Mark Davis the year before. And then there was his poor mother, all alone in her quarters...no one else ever stepped foot in Lily's room after dark, not even Snape. Harry couldn't even decide if that was a good thing or not.

He could not recall a time when his mother looked so...defeated. Lily's normally vibrant red hair had dulled to a faint copper, and her green eyes lacked their usual sparkle. She appeared thinner than usual, her bony frame apparent even through her heavy teaching robes. The only silver lining was that her skin retained a healthy shade, telling Harry that she had not picked up the bottle again as a coping mechanism.

Harry was not the only person to notice her changing complexion, either. "Damn, Potter, your Mum's not looking too good lately," Pansy Parkinson whispered from behind him as they worked on a brew in Potions class. "The Mudblood looks like she hasn't slept in days...the Headmaster must be keeping her busy at night!"

"Watch it, Parkinson," Harry growled.

"What? Just making observations," Pansy smirked. "Maybe her magic is leaving her, now that she can't harvest the blood of magical infants anymore."

Harry ignored the bigoted remark and focused more intently on his own cauldron. He knew he shouldn't have responded at all...Pansy was just looking to get a rise out of him, just like the Carrows. Besides, he wasn't supposed to be seen as sympathetic to his mother, who was meant to be estranged from the Potter family for her own protection.

Halfway through the lesson, Daphne unexpectedly walked into the classroom, taking the unoccupied seat at Harry's station. "Alright if I join you?" she asked in a clipped tone.

"Of course," said Harry, glancing at the girl. She looked tired and stressed herself, but wore her usual mask of defiant indifference. "Doing alright, Daph?"

"Just fine, thank you," Daphne said snippily. "What are we brewing?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, then filled her in on the state of their potion. Daphne listened intently, pulling out her own notes and asking questions as needed to get caught up to the material. Harry knew if she wanted to talk about the incident with her father, she would bring it up herself. As Fleur had advised him, when she was ready to talk, he would listen...no need to pry.

Pansy didn't seem to get the memo, or more likely, she didn't care. "Look who decided to crawl out of her hole!" she snickered at Daphne's backside. "Where have you been, Greengrass? Sulking because daddy ruined the family legacy?"

"A Greengrass does not sulk," Daphne said haughtily. "I have simply been under the weather."

"Of course," Pansy smirked. "You must have come down with a bad case of 'falling off your high hippogriff'. I hear that's been going around lately...Potter must have given it to you."

"You know I have the power to give detentions, don't you, Parkinson?" said Daphne, turning to glare at her tormentor. "I ought to make an example out of you."

"Go ahead, princess," Pansy taunted. "Enjoy your token of power while it lasts. Your family's finished, and mine will soon take its place."

"Ten minutes remaining," Lily called out tiredly; she had clearly overheard the whole thing but lacked the energy (or authority) to intervene.

Harry turned to glare at the group of girls. Pansy and Millicent Bulstrode sneered at him; Tracey Davis, meanwhile, avoided his eyeline, shrinking behind the other girls. Tracey was a Slytherin for a reason: she had the self-preservation instinct to stay on the right side of the shifting social hierarchy within the school. Still, it was disappointing to see someone he knew to be a good person throwing her morals aside to escape Harry and Daphne's orbit.

"Just ignore them," Harry muttered, turning back towards the still-fuming Daphne. "All they have are words. They know they can't truly do anything to—ahhh!"

Harry winced as a sharp pain suddenly shot up his left arm, causing him to drop the doxy powder he'd been holding over the cauldron. The potion flared orange and began to bubble over the edges, forcing Daphne to Vanish the mixture as the Slytherins behind them guffawed at the mishap.

"What is it?" Daphne asked as Harry clutched his arm. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Harry through gritted teeth. His Dark Mark was burning, compelling him to act, to move. And this was no subtle coaxing from Snape...this was more forceful, more urgent. "Sorry, I've got to go."

Harry rushed from the room, throwing an apologetic look to his confused mother. Draco was right behind him, also clutching his arm; they locked eyes grimly and hurried up to the Headmaster's office.

Why now? Harry wondered. It's mid-afternoon on a Tuesday...what could the Dark Lord want from us now?

Snape was waiting for them when they ascended the spiral staircase and entered the office. "Quickly, now," he said with urgency, which told Harry that this was not a simple drill. He beckoned Harry and Draco forward; the two teens stepped to Snape's either side and linked arms with him. Snape drew his wand and muttered something under his breath; Harry felt the magic in the air subtly shift, and a moment later, Snape turned on the spot, Apparating them directly out of the office.

They emerged in a small wooded area, sunlight filtering in through the tall trees. It was a fair bit warmer here than at Hogwarts, telling Harry that they had traveled some distance south, and he could smell saltwater nearby, indicating that they were near the coast. If the circumstances of their visit weren't so dark, he might have found it a tranquil scene.

"Your hoods," Snape muttered. All around them, more dark-robed figures were appearing through the trees, their dark hoods indicating that they were Death Eaters. Draco hastily fumbled for his, pulling it out of his robes and slipping it on; Snape handed one to Harry, who quickly donned it and stepped forward into the forming semi-circle at the center of the clearing.

Nobody spoke as they circled around an empty spot of land. All Harry could hear was the whipping of tree branches in the gentle sea breeze. Then, he felt a wave of dark energy in the air as a black pillar of smoke descended from the sky, landing in the dead center of the circle of Death Eaters. Lord Voldemort emerged from the smoke, red eyes leering around at his gathered faithful.

"Welcome, my followers," he said in a low voice that nonetheless carried across the clearing. "It has been some time since we all gathered here together. If you are here, it is because you are a trusted member of my inner circle. Once I have completed my takeover of Britain, you will enjoy the riches and benefits of power above all others."

There were quiet chuckles and gleeful sneers at this proclamation. Harry, however, was confused. Isn't your takeover of Britain already complete? he wondered. You have the Ministry under your total control...what more could you need?

"Today marks a special occasion," Voldemort continued once the rabble died down around him. "It is the day we welcome two new young members into our ranks. One has served me loyally for a year already, while the other is a fresh recruit. We gather here to initiate Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter into the inner circle."

There were louder guffaws now as the gathered Death Eaters turned to face the two teens, whom Voldemort beckoned forward. Harry and Draco nervously shuffled into the center of the circle; they each felt a sharp burn on their forearms, and immediately dropped to one knee in subservience to the Dark Lord.

"Today, boys, you will witness the full might of Lord Voldemort," said Voldemort. "And you will be given the opportunity to prove your loyalty once and for all. Are you prepared to enter my service?"

"Yes, my Lord," Harry and Draco muttered in unison. Harry did not like the sound of this at all...what would he be required to do to 'prove his loyalty'? Would he be forced to torture Muggles? To partake in some act of terror against the wizarding world? This was a day he had dreaded, ever since he was forced to accept the Mark and everything it represented.

"You see," said Voldemort, turning to address the rest of the Death Eaters, "despite our stranglehold on the Ministry of Magic, there remains small pockets of resistance against us throughout the country. My spy sources have informed me of an underground trafficking scheme, to transport Mudbloods out of Britain rather than have them face prosecution." Many Death Eaters hissed in displeasure at this news.

"Fortunately," Voldemort continued, "our dear friend Dale Greengrass sang like a canary when the Reaver paid him a visit. And today, we are going to put an end to this little operation once and for all."

The Death Eaters chuckled appreciatively, and a few people patted a hooded figure on the back (whom Harry presumed to be Lockhart). Harry's stomach squirmed – he did not know who was involved in this smuggling operation, but a lot of former Order members and other Light-affiliated witches and wizards had gone into hiding after the Battle of London, and he feared whom they might encounter today.

Voldemort stalked across the clearing and beckoned for his faithful to follow. Harry trailed behind Snape and Draco, already mentally plotting for a way out. Snape had mentioned an 'initiation' for him and Draco, which meant that Voldemort expected the two teens to take part in the raid – if not be the main attraction. Would Harry have to do as told, or could he find another way to talk his way out of committing another heinous deed?

The procession came to a halt a minute later. The treeline ended about a hundred yards from the sea, opening up to a high cliff shelf overlooking the English Channel. There were no man-made structures in sight, save for a lone lighthouse, perched at the edge of the cliffside. The ancient structure was small, meant to house two or three people at most, and looked like it hadn't been operational for years.

"We wait and watch," Voldemort hissed menacingly. Harry felt a sense of foreboding as he settled behind a tree alongside the other Death Eaters, watching from the shadows. Whatever was about to happen, he knew it couldn't be good, and he feared that a lot of innocent people were about to be badly hurt, or worse.

After several long minutes of silence, there was suddenly a distant pop, and a group of about a half-dozen appeared out of nowhere on the shelf. It appeared to be a mix of adults and young children – Muggle-borns and their parents, Harry realized with horror. More pops heralded the arrival of more families, at least thirty or forty people in total. They quickly hurried towards the lighthouse, disappearing one by one through the door, into what Harry realized must be a magically-enlarged space to hide them.

"Wait for my signal," Voldemort said in a low, dangerous tone. "I will prepare the trap. Spread out wide, and do not allow anybody to leave."

Harry's stomach turned over as he realized what was about to happen. Voldemort was going to trap the families on the cliffside, with nowhere to run. And the would-be runaways would be slaughtered, with Harry expected to partake in the bloodshed as his initiation. His mind raced, trying to think of some way out, some way to protect the lives of the innocent without jeopardizing himself and his family.

Voldemort strode forward from the trees, brandishing his wand. He began to chant softly under his breath, and Harry felt powerful magic spreading around them – wards designed to keep the runaways from escaping. Anti-Disapparation wards, anti-Portkey wards, and a number of other nasty traps designed to stop any attempts at magical escape. No one was getting away unless they got to the treeline, and there were two dozen Death Eaters standing in their way – not to mention the most feared Dark wizard of all time.

"Now!" Voldemort hissed. He erupted into a plume of dark smoke, rushing forward and streaking around the lighthouse in a menacing fashion. The Death Eaters rushed forward into position, forming a wide single-file line, preventing anyone from running past them without detection. Voldemort cast a series of explosive and fiery curses, wreaking havoc on the lighthouse and forcing anyone within to flee for their lives before it imploded.

Dozens of people streamed out of the building, scrambling over one another in a mad dash for safety. Parents clutched their children tight, never having seen such terrible magic before. Children screamed in terror, their dreams of Hogwarts replaced by a nightmarish future of endless persecution. The families tried to run for the treeline, but froze at the sight of the hooded Death Eaters in their way, caught between certain death on both sides.

Flashes of green light began to erupt from the black smoke circling overhead. Adults were cut down left and right; children were extinguished before their parents' eyes. Harry squirmed in agony; he must act, he must do something to stop this, the consequences be damned. He drew the Elder Wand and prepared for the worst, knowing that this could be the end—

"Stop! We surrender!"

The voice carried clearly through the seaside air, causing a brief pause in the bloodshed. A man and woman exited the lighthouse together, hands raised in surrender. They each held a wand in their hands, indicating that they were magical – undoubtedly the ringleaders behind this smuggling effort.

The black smoke came to rest on the ground, and Voldemort strode dangerously forward, wand aimed at the two rebels. "Drop your wands," he demanded. "And fall to your knees, or every last one of your stowaways will be slaughtered."

The man and woman obeyed, instantly dropping their wands and kneeling in the grass. The other families followed suit, stuck with nowhere to go, eyeing Voldemort with utter terror in their eyes. The Death Eaters slowly advanced, tightening the net and preventing anyone from slipping through the cracks. But it was clear nobody was running...the group looked tired and defeated, clearly having been on the run for quite some time already.

"This little operation has come to an end," Voldemort said softly, though his voice carried clearly through the fearful silence. "Today, you all will learn what becomes of those who defy Lord Voldemort's will. Potter, Malfoy, come."

Harry's heart sank as the Dark Mark burned, compelling him forward. He and Draco strode forward to join Voldemort, who stood at the head of the group of runaways, the witch and wizard leading them at his feet. Harry felt an ever worse pang of dread when he realized that it was Cedric and Tonks, who had quit their job as Aurors after the Battle and clearly joined the underground resistance movement.

"Boys, today is your chance to prove your loyalty to my cause," said Voldemort to the two teens. "I will give the two of you the honor of dispatching these two shameful defectors once and for all."

Draco could not stop a quiet whimper of fear from escaping his lips. Voldemort cocked his head at the boy, a sly grin crossing his features.

"Ah, but I'd forgotten...you have not yet taken a life, have you, dear Draco?" Voldemort said softly, almost sounding sympathetic if not for the manic gleam in his red eyes. "Mr. Potter relieved you of that burden last June, did he not? You have yet to experience the thrill of watching the light leave a person's eyes. Why not begin with your abomination of a cousin?"

Tonks' eyes narrowed in defiance, chin held high as Voldemort beckoned Draco forward. The teen's wand hung limply at his side, his arm trembling fiercely. Harry slowly backed away as Draco raised his wand, aiming it between Tonks' eyes.

Think, Harry told himself. There must be a way to spare them. But what could he possibly say to convince Voldemort not to kill them? He had no leverage, no bargaining power. Cedric and Tonks were helpless, unable to defend themselves or the dozens of others around them. And Harry had no doubt that a Killing Curse from Draco would be a small mercy compared to what Voldemort might do to them otherwise.

"A-Avada…" Draco stammered, fumbling and nearly dropping his wand in the process. "Avada K-ke-kedav—"

"Breathe, Draco," said Voldemort, eyes watching the boy excitedly, seeming almost thrilled by the process. Every eye was upon Draco, the threat of imminent death hanging in the air. Cedric and Tonks clasped hands, eyes closed, waiting for their end to come.

Harry knew he had only one chance to act, while nobody paid him any mind. He palmed the Elder Wand beneath his robes and whispered, "Homunculi speculo."

"I-I can't do it," Draco stammered, his wand arm lowering to his side again. "I am sorry, my Lord."

"This is not optional, Draco," said Voldemort dangerously. "You will either kill or be killed alongside them. I won't tolerate weakness in my ranks."

Draco shook his head to clear it and raised his wand again. His arm had ceased its trembling, and Harry knew that he would not falter this time. Not while his life, and likely those of his parents, were at stake. Draco pointed his wand at Tonks and took a steadying breath to cast the deadly curse—

"Tom Riddle."

Draco actually did drop his wand this time, as the sepulchral voice echoed through the air. Voldemort wheeled around, eyes scanning the landscape for the source of the disturbance. So too did the gathered Death Eaters and captured runaways, looking around wildly for the speaker.

A cloaked and hooded figure emerged from beyond the cliffside, raising up as if out of the sea itself. He alighted on solid ground and strode forward towards Voldemort, the Elder Wand brandished in one hand. Harry kept his true form very still, crumpled to the grass as though cowering alongside Draco, hoping nobody would notice that he was the one controlling the new arrival.

"Lieutenant Prewett...we meet again," Voldemort sneered as he aimed his wand at the newcomer. "If that is your real name."

"I told you once before, Tom Riddle," Harry rasped through the body of the apparition. "I am Death, and your soul will be mine."

Voldemort laughed, a terrible, frightening sound. "You are bold, Prewett, I will give you that," he said. "But I can never be killed. You are a fool to even try."

"We shall see."

Fiendfyre billowed out from around the hooded intruder, towering high above the people below. Muggle-borns and Death Eaters alike scrambled for safety, backing away from the searing heat as Harry directed the flames to swirl around him. He was careful not to let the flames get too close to the innocent; the serpentine heads hissed in displeasure, wanting to consume everyone and everything, but he kept firm control of it, not allowing his will to slip.

"Hold the line!" Voldemort barked behind him. "Stand back! I will handle this." The fearful Death Eaters paused, maintaining a haphazard line to keep the Muggle-borns at bay, but their eyes were fixed on the swirling flames above.

Harry directed the serpent heads to swoop low, towards a cluster of Death Eaters nearby. They dove for safety, backpedaling madly in an attempt to escape the flames. Voldemort retaliated by summoning Fiendfyre of his own, crashing into Harry's own flames to defend his followers. Harry felt the might of Voldemort's magic crash against his own, but he held strong, the Elder Wand helping him to match the Dark Lord's power level.

"You can't hope to defeat me, Prewett!" Voldemort shouted over the roaring flames. "I am more powerful than you can possibly imagine!"

Harry knew that was likely true. He wasn't prepared for a prolonged battle with the Dark Lord, especially with dozens of innocent lives to worry about nearby. But he had a plan. He just had to hold Voldemort off for long enough to allow the runaways to escape.

He sent a wall of flame forwards, forcing Voldemort onto the back foot. The nearest Death Eaters broke rank, abandoning their posts and disrupting the line of defenders. That meant there was a brief opening from the cliffside to the treeline – now it was just a matter of whether the runaways would notice and make their escape.

Luckily, Cedric and Tonks were still trained Aurors, and perceptive enough to realize their opportunity. "Everyone run!" Cedric shouted; he and Tonks began ushering families forward, running behind Harry's position and streaking for the trees.

Voldemort realized what was happening and tried to divert attention towards the runaways, firing green jets of light after them. But his lapse in concentration cost him; Harry sent his Fiendfyre surging forward, snapping at Voldemort and forcing the Dark Lord to resume his own cursed flames. The nearest Death Eaters were forced to retreat even further from the searing heat, giving the runaways even more time to flee.

"Stop them!" Voldemort snarled, addressing his followers behind him. But Cedric and Tonks were not idle; they began throwing up makeshift walls and barriers along their path, protecting the Muggle-borns from oncoming spellfire. Harry also kept his own Fiendfyre flaring out towards the Death Eaters, preventing them from approaching too close to the shoreline.

Just a bit longer, Harry thought, keeping one eye on the retreating runaways as he continued to engage Voldemort. They're almost there. The slowest Muggle-borns were halfway to the tree line by now, where presumably they would be able to Portkey away to safety. It would be a matter of seconds – if Harry faltered, or if the Death Eaters wised up and retreated to the trees to meet the runaways at the ward boundary, many could die.

He was quickly tiring from the effort of maintaining Fiendfyre strong enough to match the Dark Lord's. The cursed flames were struggling to break free of his control, while the Elder Wand screamed for control of its own, meaning Harry was effectively fighting three different forces at once. He felt like his magic was at its breaking point...one false step, one lapse in concentration could mean his doom—

Then, the last Muggle-borns disappeared into the trees. Harry swiped his wand, sending his flaming serpent heads crashing at Voldemort all at once; the Dark Lord brought up his own to defend himself, creating a blinding eruption of light, smoke and ash. When Voldemort turned to engage Harry again, he was gone – he had ended the Body-Mirroring Charm, returning to his original form, cowering on the ground beside Draco.

"Where is he?" Voldemort snarled, wheeling around, scanning the horizon for the hooded intruder. Then, he realized that the Muggle-borns had disappeared; he spun around towards the tree line, but they were long gone, past the ward boundary and Portkeyed to freedom.

Voldemort looked murderous now, realizing that his would-be victims had all escaped. He rounded on his followers, red eyes aflame with pure rage. "Why did none of you stop them?" he demanded. "Why didn't you hold the line as I instructed?"

"M-my lord," stammered a hooded figure, whose voice Harry recognized as a man named Avery. "We could not hold the position...the flames were too powerf—"

"Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light cut down Avery where he stood. The other Death Eaters cowered away from Voldemort, none of them willing to admit weakness, to incur the man's wrath. Harry and Draco remained perfectly still, both trembling on the ground – Draco from fear, Harry from magical exhaustion.

Voldemort looked like he wanted to slaughter everyone in sight, but clearly thought better of it. Instead, he screamed with rage and turned towards the lighthouse, casting a massive fireball at the ancient structure. The edifice shattered on impact, the ancient rock crumbling and falling over the cliff into the sea below.

But Voldemort was not content with that. He continued to spew raw magic at the spot, unleashing a wave of immense power at the now-destroyed building. Harry felt his skin ripple with the force of the magic, far stronger than any spell he'd encountered before. It was like Voldemort was channeling all of his anger and magical might into his casting, taking out his frustration on the symbol of his failure.

Suddenly, Draco hissed and clenched his left forearm, as Harry's own Dark Mark began to burn. He suppressed a groan and clutched his arm, as all around him, his fellow Death Eaters sank to their knees, each experiencing their own discomfort. Harry was already feeling drained from the impromptu battle, but now it felt as if the Dark Mark was draining his magical core further, his strength leeching from his body and being absorbed by Voldemort.

Is he using our Dark Marks to strengthen himself? Harry wondered. Can he pull from our own magic? He had theorized that the Mark was a form of soul magic, but never imagined that such a thing was possible. The idea of taking someone else's magic seemed unreasonable, the kind of thing pure-bloods accused Muggle-borns of, but Voldemort had never been one to stay within the bounds of reason.

Voldemort finally relented in his outpouring of power, lowering his wand and examining the result. The lighthouse was long gone, as well as half of the landscape around it; it was like a massive chunk of the cliff side had been torn away, a gaping crater left behind. Harry could barely keep his eyes open, his body and mind completely spent, but all around him the other Death Eaters weren't faring much better, groaning on the ground and clutching their arms in pain.

Voldemort turned towards him and Draco, red eyes glaring suspiciously at Harry. For a moment Harry thought it was over, that the Dark Lord knew it was him, that he would strike Harry down while he was unable to defend himself—

"Dismissed," Voldemort spat angrily, and he disappeared with a mighty crack. He tore through the anti-Disapparation wards in the process, which collapsed behind him with a keening wail. All that was left afterwards was the sound of crashing ocean waves below, and the quiet groaning of Death Eaters all around. Harry's head sank to the grass in relief.

He heard footsteps approach from somewhere above him, but lacked the energy to look up. "Come," said Snape, reaching down to help Harry and Draco up. The two teens groggily stumbled to their feet, and Snape linked arms with them both to Apparate them away.