Written in the Stars - Under the Mark

Under the Mark

For as much as he had enjoyed his summer break for the most part, Harry could not deny that it had felt different from previous years. Yes, he had spent his time doing much the same as he normally would; training, flying, and visiting with those he did not see during school months, but there was an undeniable added tension and pressure to everything he did.

It was as though there was an oppressive force skirting around the very edge of his conscious, a shadowy tendril prodding at his very being.

Voldemort.

There was no ignoring that the man was out there, and as much as Harry wished his presence in the world did not or would not affect him until necessary, he simply did.

Harry could not push away the knowledge that the man who had killed his parents was indeed out there, thriving, consolidating his power, and biding his time before his intended resurgence.

“Come one, Harry,” Cassie’s voice broke into his thoughts, “it’s time to get on the boat.”

The woman, though she would seldom admit it, never became any less sad when it came to him returning to school.

She would always declare that she could not wait to have the house to herself, and that she craved peace from Harry’s antics but there had never been any truth to her words.

It had become something of a running joke between the two of them.

Offering her a smile, Harry wrapped his arms around the woman that had raised him, uncaring of all the onlookers who were here to drop off their own children.

“Put me down!” Cassie hissed, her cheeks reddening.

Harry did so as he grinned at her.

“If only your enemies could see you now,” he sighed teasingly. “The great Cassiopeia Black, hugged by her teenage nephew.”

“Don’t think that I am beyond taking a swing at you,” Cassie grumbled before placing a kiss on his cheek. “Go on, away with you, and do be careful, Harry.”

Harry offered her a solemn nod before making his way onto the ship where he quickly found a cabin for himself, and his friends when they would arrive.

He wasn’t kept waiting long.

Only a few moments after he had settled in, the door opened, and a tired but seemingly relieved Cain entered and took a seat opposite.

“How’re things?” Harry asked.

To ensure the closeness of their friendship was not discovered by anyone in the pack, the two had agreed to minimal contact over the summer.

It was one of the things that had been playing on Harry’s mind, and to see Cain was quite the relief to him too.

The werewolf shook his head.

“Tense,” he sighed. “Greyback is in a foul mood. He killed six others over the summer for questioning when he would deliver on his promise of a better life.”

“That means he has been told to stay put for the time being,” Harry mused aloud. “I expect it won’t be long before he is given the go ahead. Voldemort is not known for his patience.”

Cain nodded as an expression of worry formed.

“Are you sure about this, Harry?” he whispered worriedly. “Could you not just stay on the continent?”

Harry offered the boy a sad smile.

“You know I can’t do that. My whole life has led to what is coming. If I don’t kill him, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. After what he did to me, it can’t be any other way.”

“What can’t be any other way?” Lucinda questioned as she entered with the others.

“Nothing,” Harry replied quickly.

He and Cain shared a look of understanding, one that was not missed by the vampire.

“You two have been acting weird since you came back from the Christmas break,” she pointed out. “What is going on?”

Cain looked at Harry almost pleadingly.

“You can’t keep it from them forever,” he murmured.

“Keep what from us?” Eleanor demanded.

It was not often that she was assertive with the others.

For the most part, she took everything in her stride and never pushed any to talk of things that made them uncomfortable.

“Voldemort,” Harry huffed. “He’s back.”

The revelation was met by a moment of silence before Lucinda scoffed.

“Back? He died the night he tried to kill you. Didn’t he?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, he didn’t. He wasn’t in a good way for some time, but he’s back. He broke his followers out of prison, and he’s preparing to pick up where he left off.”

“So, he will be coming after you?” Ana deduced quickly.

Harry shrugged.

“Probably,” he acknowledged, “but I will be hunting him and his followers too. All of them.”

“Wait, so you’re going to go looking for the man that murdered your parents?” Eleanor questioned.

“Of course he is,” Jonas spoke up. “I’d do the same if I was in his position.”

Eleanor frowned disapprovingly at the boy.

“Harry’s not as idiotic as you,” she muttered irritably. “I’ve read about what he did. If even half of it is true, Harry…”

She stopped speaking as Harry’s nostrils flared.

“I know exactly what he is capable of!” he snapped. “I remember exactly what he did to my parents, and everyone else he decided to kill. I know exactly what I am getting myself into.”

Eleanor shook her head as she looked towards the others for support.

“What if you die too?” Ana pressed.

“Maybe I will,” Harry sighed. “I accepted long ago that could happen.”

Silence fell once more for several moments.

“What about us?” Eleanor asked. “Do you not think we would care if anything happened to you.”

Harry released a deep breath.

“It’s not as simple as just saying I won’t go after him,” he murmured. “Not only do I want to, but I have to. I will never be able to live my life until I take his from him.”

“But you’re better than that!” Ana interjected once more.

Harry shook his head.

“No, I’m not,” he disagreed. “I have been preparing for this for as long as I can remember. He will destroy Britain if no one stops him, and it has to be me for several reasons. It’s not just about what he did to my parents. You acknowledged yourself that he will come looking for me. I choose to be the hunter rather than the prey.”

None of the girls seemed happy with his explanation.

“And what does he have to do with it?” Lucinda asked, nodding towards Cain.

“My pack supported him during the last war,” Cain explained. “Greyback has already been asking me about Harry.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing!” Cain denied hotly. “I would never sell Harry out.”

Lucinda nodded approvingly before her gaze shifted towards Harry.

“So, he has the support of the werewolves?”

“And Dementors, and who knows what bloody else,” Harry chuckled humourlessly. “He had giants last time.”

Lucinda shook her head.

“I don’t suppose anything anyone will say will change your mind?”

“No,” Harry said firmly. “By the time I am done with school, it will probably be time for me to go home and face whatever mess the country is in.”

Again, none looked pleased by his intentions, but they did not comment further on the matter.

Lucinda simply took a seat next to him, took his hand on her own and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Idiot,” she muttered sadly.

“You wouldn’t have me any other way,” Harry snorted.

“I’d rather have you alive.”

Harry opened his mouth to offer a witty, flirty response, but paused as he remembered the conversation he’d shared with Sirius during the summer.

His godfather had sought him out after the meeting of The Order of the Phoenix, evidently at the behest of Cassiopeia.

Having explained his rather downtrodden mood after he and Alessia had parted ways, Sirius had some rather useful, sage advice for him.

‘Well, you could always do what I did to get over breaking up with a girl,’ Sirius suggested. ‘Instead of dealing with the heartache, I would move on to the next one to forget about the other.’

‘Did that work?’

‘I thought it did, but you only ever end up in a vicious circle of starting something new as something ends, and you just end up avoiding your feelings.’

Harry nodded his understanding.

‘Or?’

‘Or you handle it the correct way,’ Sirius had offered with a shrug. ‘You wait until you have processed your feelings and are ready to move on.’

‘The correct course of action,’ Remus had interjected.

Although it had been a topic he would not have chosen to discuss with any, Harry was grateful for his godfather’s intervention.

He had been stuck in a rut over the summer months and opening up to Sirius had helped him more than he would have thought possible.

Instead of following in the man’s rather poor example of simply moving on, Harry had decided to take a break from dating, and it was this that had curbed his tongue when readying a reply to Lucinda.

Choosing not to offer the rebuttal, he simply fell silent for a moment whilst the girl looked at him expectantly.

When she realised nothing was forthcoming, she frowned questioningly, but Harry did not know what to say.

This was Lucinda.

They had always flirted in their own way, but now, he just didn’t much feel like it.

“I can’t believe we only have two years left at Durmstrang,” Harry offered lamely.

“I know,” Cain sighed. “At least we don’t have to worry about Arse-kiss anymore though.”

Harry nodded his agreement.

Without the older boy at the school, things would certainly be different, and if truth be told, he was looking forward to returning to school, if only to use it as an escape from the fate that awaited him on the outside.

(Break)

The Dark Lord observed those around, scrutinising each member of his inner circle as he assessed their readiness for what was to come. The time to act was now. It had been almost a year that he had been returned to a body he could call his own, and there was no longer any reason to be so cautious.

He had made overtures to those he had once considered his allies, and all had returned to the fold as expected.

Currently, Macnair was escorting a contingent of giants to Britain, the Dementors and Greyback were simply awaiting further instructions from him.

All that remined was for his campaign to begin, and then he would be ready to recruit more to his cause.

Yes, he had been idle long enough, but that would no longer be the case.

“Bella,” he spoke in little more than a whisper. “You shall be granted your wish. You are to take the others and lead them as you once did. Do my bidding and remind those beneath us why we should be feared.”

The woman’s expression brightened immediately, the beaming smile of gratitude she offered promising nothing but misery for her victims.

The others followed suit, offering words of gratitude for the task they had been given.

They were ready.

In the months that had passed since they had been freed, they had grown stronger.

His Death Eaters were no longer emaciated, tired, and physically broken.

No, they were strong and ready to serve their purpose as they had so many years prior, and evidently eager to do so.

“Of course, My Lord,” Bellatrix whispered excitedly.

Voldemort offered her an anticipatory smile.

He had always looked forward to whatever Bellatrix could produce on the raids she led, and she never failed to provide a detailed account of those that had pleaded for mercy at the tip of her wand.

“Lucius,” the Dark Lord continued, addressing the more reserved blond. “Your work is to continue, but I wish for you to begin making strides in bringing our more prominent foes to heel. Allow Bellatrix some time to re-establish our reputation for those that may have foolishly forgotten, and then remind those that would resist us why they should not.”

“I will, My Lord,” Lucius assured him. “May I ask something, My Lord?”

Voldemort nodded.

“Might I enquire to as to the whereabouts of Barty?” he pressed gently. “He has not been seen amongst us since the others were liberated.”

“Barty is exactly where I wish for him to be,” the Dark Lord answered cryptically. “More information will be provided when it is necessary. Worry not, Lucius, I have not forgotten him.”

Lucius did not appear to be appeased b the explanation, but he knew better than to push further than he already had.

“Yes, My Lord,” the man replied with a bow.

“If there are no other questions, you will proceed with your tasks,” Voldemort instructed. “Do not let me down,” he added firmly. “You are to take no foolish risks that will result in your capture. Am I clear?”

“Yes, My Lord,” the Death Eaters echoed, and Voldemort dismissed them with a wave.

Once they had taken their leave of the room, his thoughts turned to the very person that Lucius had mentioned.

Barty had not remained in contact with any consistency.

Azkaban had undoubtedly left its mark on him as it had with the others, and though the Dark Lord was not overly concerned by his silence, Barty should have kept him informed of his findings and progress.

Voldemort frowned to himself as he sent a summons to the man.

He understood that Barty’s position was somewhat delicate, but there was no excuse for his lack of contact.

The Dark Lord wanted results, and with the rest of his Death Eaters about to be unleashed upon the world, he wanted progress on all fronts.

Having summoned his wayward follower, he took a seat behind the desk that he did not intend to occupy for much longer.

He had returned to Albania shortly after releasing his followers from Azkaban, but it was not here he needed to be.

No, he would be needed at home where he could begin cementing his legacy and elevating himself to the position he longed for.

He had not been born into privilege like Lucius and the others, but the blood that flowed through his veins was of a much richer stock, of the greatest magical family that had existed in Britain.

The Slytherin line may have fallen from grace through generations of squandering wealth and refusing to expand the bloodline, but it had led to him being born.

The Dark Lord may not be pure of blood, but the noble blood he possessed was stronger than any other and deserving to be held in the highest esteem, and to achieve that, he needed the world to remember just why Salazar Slytherin was considered one of the greatest wizards to have ever lived.

Lord Voldemort, however, would be better.

In the generations to come, it would not be Slytherin himself the people spoke of.

No, the name that crossed their lips would be Lord Voldemort, the last remaining Slytherin who brought about a resurgence for the ages, who restored the traditions that had been lost to time as those who were inferior had been allowed to run roughshod and unchecked.

As things were, it would take only a few braver mudbloods to realise that they were the ones who truly held the power in magical Britain, that if they chose to, they could subvert control to themselves.

That could not be allowed.

The Dark Lord was pulled from his thoughts as the door opened, and a rather tired Barty Crouch entered.

“Ah, Barty,” he greeted the man. “What news do you have to share?”

Barty did frown frustratedly.

“Very little of use, My Lord,” he huffed, “but I have a plan to change that.”

Voldemort released a deep breath.

“You have been at your post for months,” he pointed out.

“I know, My Lord, but it has not been as easy as you would think,” Barty explained. “Without cooperation, it is much more difficult, and I cannot force it.”

Voldemort nodded his understanding.

“Then tell me of your plan,” he instructed.

Barty grinned as he did so, and the more he spoke, the more the Dark Lord found himself agreeing with the idea.

(Break)

He had missed this.

Duelling at Durmstrang had always presented an escape from anything that was plaguing his mind and worked equally well for Harry to experiment with different types of magic and see how he would fare using them in combat situations.

However, despite having been looking forward to partaking once more, the calibre of opponents on offer had certainly dwindled over the years.

Even facing off with three seventh year students at the same time had not presented enough of a challenge to push him to even break a sweat.

If for no other reason, he would miss Alessia for her ability here.

Even though she had never managed to best him, she had always proven to be tough competition.

“Why do you not try your luck against one of the Professors?” Novak suggested from the side-lines.

“I believe that is an excellent idea,” Karkaroff declared curiously. “Professor Sidorova, would you do the honours?”

The Veela nodded, a bright smile cresting her lips as she stepped onto the duelling platform and drew her wand.

Harry looked towards his friends who, like the other gathered students, were whispering excitedly amongst themselves.

“There is no need to hold back, Potter,” Sidorova called. “I can assure you I am well-versed in the art of duelling.”

Suddenly, Harry felt the pressure of the moment settle on his shoulders.

He had never tested himself against any of the Professors of the school.

They simply came here to supervise the students, but evidently, the Charms professor was willing to break that tradition.

In his duels with Cassie, Harry managed to hold his own for the most part, but the woman was crafty and the magic she wielded as dangerous as any he would likely ever face.

He did not know how he would fare against Professor Sidorova, but the thought of pushing himself with a new, much more advanced opponent was as exciting as it was nerve-wracking.

There would be no room for error, and as Professor Karkaroff stepped between them to begin the impromptu contest, the nerves faded and Harry focused only on the task at hand.

“BEGIN!”

Most opponents he faced would usually attempt to overwhelm him from the very start, hoping to seize an early advantage, but Sidorova did not take this approach.

Instead, she waited, studying his stance, her gaze shifting between his wand and any movement he made.

She was being much more calculated and was seemingly confident in her ability to last long enough to figure out his approach.

With a shrug, Harry engaged her, probing her defences with a few minor curses and jinxes to see how she would react.

Her defensive technique proved to be flawless, and she flicked the spells aside as though they were little more than an inconvenience to her.

Nodding to himself, Harry knew he was about to endure perhaps one of the toughest duels of his life.

Having dealt with his offering, Sidorova took it upon herself to return the favour, and it was Harry’s turn to be on the defensive as she fired a plethora of speels towards him, much quicker than he had been anticipating.

Nonetheless, he nullified them before any could pass his stance and he offered the woman an appreciative nod.

She certainly knew a thing or two about magical combat.

Once more, it was Sidorova who pressed the action, sending forth a few tricky charms and hexes to test Harry’s ability to overcome adversity when faced with different types of spells.

Judging by the smile it elicited from the woman, she was impressed with how he had done so, his wand having been used to sweep them aside or absorb them into a hastily conjured shield.

Sidorova, Harry was quickly beginning to realise, was merely beginning to find her flow. Something that only became more apparent as she upped the pace, increasing the speed in which she cast her spells and managed to avoid falling victim to the returning myriad of curses and transfiguration Harry had employed.

She was indeed well-versed in the art of duelling, and as Harry began matching her pace, he knew he had quite the duel on his hands as both were only still very much in the feeling out stage of the contest.

Nodding to himself, Harry decided it was his turn to truly test the woman, and with an emphatic flick of his wand, one of the spells he had learned courtesy of Dumbledore careened towards the Charms professor.

Her eyes widened as the canon blast reverberated off the walls, and she shrouded herself in a golden flame to negate the effects, though she was sent several feet back by the force of the spell.

Fortunately for Sidorova, she managed to prevent herself falling from the platform, but her eyes narrowed challengingly as she retook her position and began twirling her wand between her fingers.

With a sudden jabbing motion, she launched a purple ball of fire towards Harry, manipulating it whilst it was airborne so that it curved outwards and wrapped around him, hiding his opponent from view as the temperature increased dramatically.

It was a sweating Harry that dropped to the floor in the nick of time to avoid the follow up spells sent his way, and with some quick work of his own, he incorporated his own magic into the flames before banishing them back towards Sidorova.

A loud explosion rent the air as she diverted it into the platform between them, sending large pieces of wood and debris in all directions.

The woman acknowledged Harry’s effort with a nod, but she was no longer smiling and she did not remain idle.

With a wave of her wand, she conjured a trio of eagles that dived towards Harry whilst she busied herself with her next spell.

Harry immediately recognised the birds for the distraction they were, and a powerful gust of wind knocked them off course, leaving him enough time to defend himself against the first of several balls of fire sent his way.

Sidorova was rather adept with the element.

She was a creature of air and fire and though Harry managed to avoid being severely burned by the flames, they became ever-increasingly difficult to banish or shield from and he could smell his robes beginning to burn with how close each one came.

Sidorova only increased the frequency with which she conjured them, sensing that a breakthrough of Harry’s defences was imminent, but as ever when he found himself under pressure, the teen fought back.

Stepping out of the path of one of the fireballs, he cut deeply into his own palm until the blood flowed freely and he snatched the next projectile out of the air.

The blood mixing with the fire caused a loud hiss, and Harry grit his teeth as he fought to take control of the magic, throwing the now green ball of flame back towards Sidorova when he did so.

Those within the room gasped as it took the form of a phoenix, and it was only a plume of her own fire that prevented the professor from being horribly burned by it.

The phoenix exploded in a shower of sparks, the effort to defend herself from Harry’s creation leaving the veela rather breathless.

Still, she remained undeterred, her golden eyes narrowed with determination as her face began to elongate and a large pair of wings spread from her back.

Harry had never seen a veela transformation, and as the professor took to the air and hovered above the smouldering platform, he found himself rather impressed.

It was intimidating to say the least, and he felt her glare bore into him as though he was little more than a meal for her to devour.

Harry, however, was no mere rat, nor anything else any bird would feast on.

Nodding to himself, he already knew what he needed to do.

Sidorova was of air and fire, but even the hardiest of avian fled from a storm.

Whipping his wand in an upward motion, he sent a trio of concussion hexes towards the woman in a bid to buy himself enough time.

With the professor suitably distracted, he focused on the magic he had been working tirelessly on to master, and when he felt the power building within his palm, he blew into it and unleashed his own element upon the room.

The dark cloud that formed crackled and rumbled in a mix of thunder and lightning, and the pouring rain soaked everything within the room.

For the first time, an expression of concern became apparent across the avian features of the professor, but she remained undeterred.

Creating another ball of molten fire, she hurled it towards Harry, but he had been prepared for such a reaction.

With a flick of his wand, he sent it into the cloud, and the thunder and lightning increased in intensity, the wind of the storm forcing Sidorova to flap her wings harder to avoid being blown away.

Now, Harry knew he had her where he wanted her, and with a sweeping motion of his wand, he began to manipulate the storm he had created.

With a loud screech, the cloud shifted, coalescing into the shape of the creature that Harry had woken up to in the Chamber of Secrets and the thunderbird swooped towards the shocked Charms professor.

To her credit, she did not balk nor hesitate to fight back, and Harry could only look on with the other spectators as the woman was engulfed in fire and she engaged the shadowy cloud, the two of them wrestling in mid-air.

Lightning crackled, and thunder sounded as the airborne battle commenced, and much to Harry’s surprise, Sidorova seemed to get the upper hand, shoving the cloud backwards before it too burst into flames.

The woman eyed warring elements cautiously as the burning mass hovered between her and Harry, neither seemingly knowing what to do in the moment.

The magics at play were volatile, as proven only a moment later when both combatants found themselves sent sprawling, landing painfully on what remained of the platform as the combination of elements exploded.

Harry had been winded, and he groaned as he fought to inhale air into his lungs.

When he did manage to sit up a moment or so later, it was to find Professor Sidorova in a similar state, though she had reverted back to her human form.

“Draw?” Harry wheezed.

Despite her own difficulty in breathing, the woman smiled as she nodded and Harry returned the gesture.

It was perhaps the most difficult duel he had ever contested, and although he found himself aching and sore in more places than he could count, he had enjoyed the experience immensely.

The sound of clapping broke into his thoughts, and for the first time since he and Sidorova had engaged one another, he looked around the room to see a sodden gathering of students and professors alike showing their shocked appreciation for what they had witnessed.

“A damned good show,” Karkaroff declared as he shook his head. “I think you should both head to the Medical Bay, don’t you? I don’t think the room is in any fit state for any more duels this evening.”

The students laughed and Harry managed to push himself to his feet and navigate his way out of the sheer destruction he and the Charms professor had wrought over the past moments.

“Are you alright?” Cain questioned as he reached his rather subdued friends.

Harry nodded.

“A few broken bones and burns,” he grimaced, “but nothing too damaging.”

Cain snorted as he took on some of Harry’s weight, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“That was brilliant,” the werewolf declared as the group left the duelling room.

“It was,” Ana agreed, “and you almost won.”

Harry chuckled, wincing as a sharp pain lanced through his ribs.

“I’m happy with the draw,” he murmured sincerely. “It just goes to show that there are levels to this.”

“But you held your own,” Jonas pointed out.

“I did,” Harry agreed, “but I have to be better.”

“Could you have done better?” Cain questioned curiously.

Harry frowned before he nodded.

“I could have,” he decided, “but I did not want to hurt or kill her, and she wouldn’t have wanted the same for me. It was a good duel.”

“Well, I certainly won’t be messing with either of you,” Cain replied with a grin.

“Nor me,” Jonas laughed.

Harry could only grunt in response as they continued on their way towards the Medical Bay.

He was in pain that was only becoming worse with each passing moment, and despite how much he had enjoyed the duel, he wanted nothing more now than to be healed, and have a comfortable bed to rest in so that he could recover from the injuries he had sustained.

(Break)

She all but skipped down the secluded street in the West Country city they had arrived in only a few moments prior, listening to the symphony of screams and agonised pleading from the muggles she had set the other Death Eaters upon.

After so long having been locked away in Azkaban, it truly was music to her ears.

Bellatrix knew that the day would come that her master would free her, that she would stand at her rightful place by his side once more.

It was that thought alone that helped her cling to her clarity during her years in cold and miserable solitude, and now, she was serving him again, reminding the filth of their place in the world.

“Crucio!” she screeched gleefully, levelling her wand at a man trying to flee from one of her cohorts.

The muggle collapsed to the ground, his own screams adding to the others already filling the air.

Bellatrix held him under the curse until the screaming stopped and he was nothing more than a dribbling, unmoving heap upon the ground.

She shivered at the thrill it elicited within her, and her eyes scanned the area for her next victim.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she giggled, felling another with a tripping jinx before subjecting the woman to the same treatment as the man, cackling gleefully at the look of confusion and terror etched into her fingers.

Bellatrix pouted as her latest victim fell limp.

She had offered almost no resistance and hadn’t even had the decency to beg for her wretched life.

No matter.

There were many others just waiting for her ministrations.

“Bella!” the voice of Rodolphus called. “This one is a witch.”

Bellatrix quirked an eyebrow at the fool and the little girl he had seized by the hair, and she smiled as the girl kicked him in the groin.

Rodolphus doubled over in pain, and Bellatrix took no small amount of glee in it.

Her husband, though he had his uses at times, was pathetic compared to their master.

All men were when measured against the Dark Lord.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes as the little girl ran, only making it a dozen or so feet before she tripped over her nightdress.

She didn’t even bother to attempt to get back up and simply remained on the floor, trembling and cowering in fear.

“You will leave her!” Bellatrix snapped as Rodolphus approached her.

Her husband scowled in response but knew better than to argue with her.

With little more than a grunt, he wandered off to find another victim and Bellatrix crouched down next to the girl.

“What is your name?” she asked gently.

“C-Celestine,” the girl stammered.

Bellatrix offered the girl a bright smile as she cupped her cheek.

“Oh, my poor child,” she cooed. “You found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time, didn’t you?”

Celestine nodded, her lower lip trembling in fear as tears spilled down her cheek.

“Don’t worry,” Bellatrix sighed as she wiped them away with her thumb. “It will all be over soon enough. Would you like to see something really special?”

Celestine said nothing.

“Of course you do,” Bella chuckled, paying no mind to the lack of answer from the girl. “Look up towards the sky.”

Reluctantly, Celestine did so.

“Morsmordre!”

In only a matter of seconds, the Dark Mark shone brightly above them, the green light of the spell illuminating the street below.

“I told you it was special, didn’t I?” Bellatrix whispered reverently as she pointed her wand at the girl. “It is quite the honour that it will be the last thing that you see, but just for you, I will make this painless. It will be like falling asleep.”

Before the girl could protest, Bellatrix placed a hand over her mouth and shushed her, a grin tugging at her own lips.

“Avada Kedavra!”

The little witch, Celestine, fell limp immediately, her still open eyes devoid of any life, and Bella nodded satisfactorily to herself as she simply stood and continued skipping down the street already seeking out her next victim under the light of the Dark Mark that hung prominently above her.

(Break)

It was feeling of someone’s weight settling on the end of his bed that woke Harry from his slumber, and as he opened his eyes, it was to be greeted by the sight of the Charms professor he had duelled only hours before.

Sidorova’s hair had not ben styled, and she wore a hospital gown with one of her arms having been strapped tightly to her chest.

Several minor cuts and bruises littered the skin Harry could see, but the woman was smiling, nonetheless.

“How are you, Potter?” she asked.

Harry stretched before shrugging once he had sat up.

“I feel fine,” he answered the woman.

She frowned curiously, her gaze roaming over him as she seemingly looked for any lingering injuries and she shook her head.

“You can’t be fine already,” she sighed.

“I heal quickly,” Harry returned, moving his own arms to demonstrate nothing was hindering his movement.

“You had a broken arm,” Sidorova reminded him, “and several cuts, bruises, and a partially collapsed lung. You couldn’t have healed so quickly, even with magic.”

“Well, I did,” Harry chuckled, thanking whatever healing ability had been gifted to him by Fawkes during the unwitting ritual he had completed in the Chamber of Secrets.

“That is rather…astounding,” Sidorova replied curiously. “Anyway, I wished to apologise to you for my conduct. We veela are prideful creatures, and I took the duel too far.”

Harry shook his head as he chuckled.

“That was the most competitive and enjoyable duel I have had other than with my Aunt,” he explained. “There is nothing to apologise for. It is good to be pushed.”

“It is,” Sidorova agreed, “but not too much too soon. I must say, I am exceedingly impressed with you. From the moment you arrived here you have dedicated yourself to your studies. Even Professor Karkaroff often praises your efforts, and the results speak for themselves.”

Harry offered the woman an appreciative nod, shooting his friends a questioning look as they entered the Medical Bay, each of them sporting a rather grim expression.

“Your paper arrived,” Cain informed him, handing over the copy of The Daily Prophet he had brought.

Harry frowned as he accepted it, his stomach filling with dread at the image below the bold headline.

Thirty-One Found Dead Under the Dark Mark!

By Rita Skeeter

Harry swallowed deeply as he read the article, his anger and frustration only growing as he did so.

Minister Fudge has vowed to double his efforts to find Sirius Black whom he believes is leading the escaped Death Eaters.

‘It is clear that Black is responsible for this,’ the Minister declared. ‘Rest assured, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will not rest until Black and the rest of the Death Eaters are back in Azkaban where they belong! I urge the public to be vigilant, and under no circumstances are any of these individuals to be approached. Any sightings should be reported immediately to the Auror Department.’

Harry’s grip around the newspaper tightened as he digested just how much of a fool Fudge was proving to be.

Once more, it was clear that Malfoy was pulling the Minister’s strings, and so long as he did so, the man would choose to remain woefully ignorant of what was unfolding around him.

“Harry?” Lucinda pressed gently.

Harry said nothing.

The cold fury he felt threatened to spill over, and as had become customary when his anger began to get the better of him, bolts of lightning began to crackle at his fingertips.

The newspaper smouldered within his grip, crumbling to ash as he continued to stare at where it had been long after it had disintegrated.

Already he knew he had quite the monumental task ahead of him, but with men like Fudge in control, it would only make things harder.

It was less than a year now that he could claim his seats on the Wizengamot, but between now and then, anything could happen and Harry did not hold out much hope that this would be the last Britain would hear from the Death Eaters.

They had finally struck a blow, and there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that it was merely the first of many.