A/N: Hey. Once again, there's a time jump here, but you'll be glad to know that this is the last one. At the end of this chapter, you might see how I'm planning on introducing Harry back into the Wizarding world. It's what I had planned from the moment I began and I've got some very good scenes coming up for you.

There's another action scene in here, two of them, in fact, but the second one can be described as gory. As you might know, I like realistic and descriptive fights, so I don't hold back. If you are a little queasy about that sort of thing, be warned.

And before I forget, like I have every other time, I want to thank both Jon and especially nuhuh from DLP for helping me out for not only this chapter, but pretty much all of them. They've been invaluable in helping me shape the plot and coming up with ways to climb my way out of the plot-holes I tend to fall in. If anybody's interested, nuhuh has a HP/DF story that's much more centred on Dresden that I am, and Jon (Surarrin) is planning his very own.

Three Years Later

Lightning flashed and the clouds rumbled ominously as a thick, heavy shower of rain poured to the ground. The tree branches whipped violently through the air as a loud, shrieking wind blasted through the cold and wet city of Chicago. Rivers of rain flowed over the asphalt ground, running down into the curb and towards the nearest storm drain while the sunlight dimmed as it went behind a particular thick and angry set of clouds. This weather was enough to keep even the most zealous worker huddled under a warm blanket at home but on the roof of a multi-levelled parking lot, a fourteen-year-old boy walked briskly through the rain, seemingly unconcerned as he was drenched from head to toe. A dark overcoat covered his body, thick leather deflecting most of the water, while underneath he wore simple but effective dark clothes. Green eyes peered out of his water-soaked bangs, glinting with hatred and rage that most humans were incapable of feeling, but it seemed to be carefully constrained as the boy walked forward.

“Where are you, demon?” called out Harry, his voice light but decidedly dangerous as he tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword. The blade was made of gleaming steal etched with magical runes specifically designed for the evocation of True Magic, and it hissed and spluttered as raindrops fell on it and turned into steam, a faint but heated aura of scarlet fire warping around the blade.

'Be very careful, beloved. It may be trying to lure you in.'

“I'm not going to let it get away,” Harry said grimly, his voce echoing in the large and deserted roof of the multi-level car park. Meciel's dark powers, a cascading wave of roaring and blazing power, flowed through him, searing into his veins, bring about the darker feelings of pleasure, battle-lust and fury, but Harry easily kept them under control, allowing his mind to remain focussed and calm as he peered through the falling sleets of rain. “Otherwise it'll just come after me again.”

'I am not suggesting that you allow it to flee but…Beloved, look out!'

But Harry had seen the demon from the corner of his eye and he swung his head around, his eyes blazing with demonic powers as he took a good look at the unnatural construct in front of him. The demon, like all summoned demons, probably didn't look like this back in its true home in the Nevernever. The physical body in this world was just a construct made up of magic to temporarily store the demon's consciousness and allow it access to the mortal world, the human world. Harry understood that the demons needed to use part of their life energy and magic to make the transfer across and the bigger and more complicated the body, the more life energy and magic you needed, which was why the more human a demon looked, the more powerful it really was. What he couldn't understand was their complete inability to create a body that seemed even remotely appealing.

This demon was shaped in a vague humanoid form - Harry said vague because with the short, stubby and slimy tentacles coating the body, he really couldn't be sure, and had two arms, two legs and a short, stubby and very slimy tail. But its face looked like a cross between a gorilla and a cockroach and its body looked as if it had been beaten in by a gang of teenagers wielding baseball bats. Still, its eyes burned with a glowing cherry-red light, malevolence and hatred seeping through as it glared at Harry. Sharp, jagged teeth sprouted from its mouth, dripping odorous green saliva onto the ground. Its twisted and hulky body rippled and churned as it lunged towards the teenage Denarian, but the boy merely took a step backwards and twirled on his feet, his overcoat flapping in the wind as he disapparated with a loud crack.

Harry apparated further down the roof and raised his sword, gripping it in his hand as he levelled the tip of the blade at the demon in front of him. He concentrated, bringing forward the torrent of dark, blazing power and channelling it into the sword, giving it focus and control. The magical runes on the sword glowed in an eerie crimson light, looking like bright embers, and Harry chanted the incantation, his voice harsh and cold.

The runes along the blade of gleaming steel all flared at once, a bright flash of blue and white, and the sword trembled in Harry's hands as a flash of lightning zapped from the tip of the blade, shooting through the air and striking the demon in the chest with a loud booming noise, which was barely heard over the other sounds of the storm. The demon staggered, a loud and eerie screech of pain rumbling in its throat as dark, oozing blood dripped from its chest, and charged for him, its footsteps leaving behind a trail of gooey slime on the ground.

“Firerajo!” Harry shouted out and the runes on the sword flashed again, this time in a mixture of dark crimson and bright yellow as Harry slashed his sword through the air, the blade making a threatening hissing noise as it swished through the air. From the blade came a streak of bright red-gold flames and an unnatural smell of sulphur as hellfire lanced through the air, digging into the demons side. The demon let out another screech but it didn't slow down as more blood pooled from its wounds and Harry gave a short curse and whirled around, disapparating away yet again.

He reappeared and refocused his power into the sword, true-magic fuelled by the powerful and violent energy of hellfire flowing into the blade of steel. The runes throbbed with an intense dark light, which flickered around the sword as power built up within it. The demon let out a screech, hatred and rage flowing through its voice and no matter how tough the thing seemed to be, it was severely lacking in brains as it spun around and prepared to charge again. Harry waited, the power flowing through him like a wave of hot lava, searing heat bringing out the intoxication that only dark power could bring. His rage burned in his mind but Harry used it to continue powering his spell, the calculative and cold part of his mind in control as he brought his sword up.

“Flararanga!” He incanted loudly, his voice ringing with true-magic, and pushed his sword forward, gritting his teeth as a rush of power suddenly left his senses. There was a flash made up of pure dark radiance, a completely black spell that seemed to suck up any nearby light, accompanied by a wave of rushing heat. The flare of darkness struck the demon - there was another screech of pain and the sound of a small, thundering roar- and the smell of sulphur reeked into the air. The demon was driven back by the flare, hurled through the air and blasted into the ground several metres away, its limbs flailing as curls of oily, black smoke rose up from its severely-burned body.

Harry didn't waste a single second of his new advantage and reached into his overcoat as he twirled on his feet, his left hand clasping the sword as he right hand brought out a gleaming, polished wand. He disapparated only to reappear above the demon, his sword flicking through the air and slicing into demon hide before him. Unnatural flesh sizzled as the demon screamed and Harry used his momentum to level the wand at the fallen creature, his eyes serious. For a second, the searing flow of power in his veins was overtaken by a new magic, wand-magic, a cool, almost icy flow of magic that left tingles in his skin as he channelled it through his wand.

“Exturbo Arduro!”

A flash of flames jutted from the tip of his wand, a burning blast of heat that slammed into the demon with great force, slamming it back onto the ground with a screech of pain. More smoke curled from its body, an acrid smell of burnt flesh and something so revolting that Harry had no words for it filling the air, but the demon moved with a blur, despite his injuries and Harry grunted as one of the gangly arms slammed into him. He was thrown off his feet by the power of the blow and landed several metres away, sprawling out on the ground with a pained grunt. He climbed to his feet, pain flickering over his features, but his eyes widened and he quickly ducked as a stream of vile and smelly green liquid sprayed over his head- an acid of some kind considering that mere droplets were smoking the concrete floor in front of him.

He quickly apparated away and reappeared behind the demon, which was spraying the concrete with a flow of acid from its mouth as if it were a hose. It was still on the ground, trying to stagger up from the ground as it clutched at where Harry had cut into it, severing its muscles from its right leg. Harry's face showed no mercy as he brought his sword up and with all of his strength, slammed it across its neck in a powerful, sweeping blow. A dark flare of satisfaction lit up in his gut as the demons head toppled off the body and landed on the ground with a messy splat, while the body itself collapsed down back on the ground and the demons consciousness was forcefully banished from this physical construct, wounded and hurt as it retreated back into the Nevernever.

Harry stood up again, his eyes scanning the area for any more attacks as both dark power and adrenaline rushed through him, each bringing with it its own unique high. After a few moments, when Harry hadn't detected anything, he let out a small sigh and sheathed his sword into the scabbard that lay within his overcoat and tucked his wand back into his pocket.

“Do you think we're pissing anybody off?” Harry asked out loud, frowning as he considered the demon's corpse below him that was even now melting away into clear translucent goo that would shortly break down and disappear. “Because it's not everyday that somebody tries to assassinate me using a demon.”

'Ibelieve so, beloved. It does require a considerable effort to both summon and constrain a demon for a specific task.'

“It wasn't that hard to kill though,” Harry mused softly as he stepped away from the demon's corpse, which had mostly melted away by now. “It must have been a weak demon and a weak summoner.”

'Or perhaps you are much more powerful than they realised.'

“There's that,” Harry admitted and frowned in thought. But his contemplation didn't last long as the faint sounds of sirens could be heard in the distance and he sighed in annoyance, idly brushing his wet bangs out of his eyes as the rain continued to pour down around him. “I must have made a lot of noise.”

'Only a little bit, beloved.'

Harry took one last look at his surroundings and then twirled on his feat, his overcoat flaring around him as he disapparated with a loud crack.

Harry frowned at his window as a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room, a rumbling thunder accompanying it a second later, but turned around and walked back into the training room, a small tray in his hands. Inside the summoning circle, the small faery Cessbulby, tapped her foot impatiently against the wooden floor, tossing her pinkish-red hair over her shoulder as she let out a huff of exasperation. Her blue eyes lit up with child-like delight and she let out a small squeal as Harry dropped the plate outside the circle, her wings fluttering with clouds of shining silver motes as she hovered up in the air, staring at the fresh fruit and cheese with a look of longing.

“Give it to me!” She said, licking her small lips, her fingers fluttering over the dome of impenetrable flickering red magic that separated her from the food. Harry shook his head with an amused smile at the small faery's antics as he sat down.

“Promise that you won't escape and that you'll answer my questions,” Harry insisted carefully and moved the tray a little closer to the barrier. The faery made an odd whining noise and nodded her head. “We're using the standard agreement, Cessbulby.”

“I promise, I promise and I promise,” She said impatiently. Harry nodded in satisfaction, knowing that a faery or Sidhe promising something three times was as close to an oath as you could get from the immortal ones, and he slid the tray into the circle. Since the tray was a physical object, the barrier shuddered and flickered and broke apart in a shower of sparkling light as Cessbulby darted forward, her form as blur as she dove into the tray of food.

Harry watched the small faery tear through the fruit and cheese with fury, her small arms a blur as she shoved far more in her mouth that Harry would have expected for a six-inch or so being to be able to fit in her stomach. It didn't matter that he had watched this happen several times since he had first summoned the small faery, it was still disgusting.

“So,” He said, diverting his eyes away with a faint look of disgust on his face as Cessbulby ripped into her food. “What's new?”

“Maeve held a celebration recently,” Cessbulby said, gulping down a relatively large chunk of cheese as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her wings beating languidly behind her. “It was fun. We played with stupid mortals all night. Maeve really had fun with one of them, who said he 'would have died to look like that'. Well, he did.”

“Right,” Harry said slowly, shaking his head in resignation at the antics of the Sidhe. “As much as I enjoy hearing about Maeve, I was sort of thinking about something closer to home.”

“You enjoy hearing about Maeve?” Cessbulby asked, her voice pitching in excitement as she looked up from her eating, her small, white dress smeared with grape juice. “What a coincidence, because she enjoys hearing about you, and especially likes watching you fight. I mean, she got all interested when she heard about your little fight not too long ago.”

Harry blinked in surprise as he stared at Cessbulby in shock and the small faery giggled. Her laugh made a beautiful, tinkling noise akin to wind chimes as the faery leaned forward, her voice lowering as if she was whispering a dirty secret to him.

“Ooh, yes, we all saw your little fight with that demon,” Cessbulby said, giggling slightly as she eyed Harry with glowing, soulless eyes. “Maeve was very interested in it and quite happy when you won. The Lady seems to have her eyes on you for some reason. Hey, are you two going to play sport with each other?”

Harry made a choking noise as Meciel laughed prettily in his head, his eyes widening with shock. He could feel his cheeks burning with heat and stared at Cessbulby with a look of disbelief on his face. He knew very well what the faery idea of 'sporting' was and the mere though of that with Maeve was enough to send an odd shudder through his body. His hand absently reached up to brush against his cheek, remembering the time when the extremely-enchanting Winter Lady had kissed him. But he broke out of his stupor and quickly shook his head at Cessbulby's question.

“Oh, pity,” Cessbulby said, her voice sulky as a child's. “That would have been fun to watch. Maeve's sporting always is.”

“Can we get back to the news?” Harry broke in, his voice at a snap as he felt his cheeks heating up again. Inside his mind, he could feel Meciel's amusement and he let out a small growl of anger and irritation. “What is it, Meciel?”

'It is of no importance, beloved. I was merely musing that boys can grow up so fast, especially when they have a crush on the Winter Lady of the High Sidhe.'

“I do not…” Harry began, his voice thick with annoyance and anger, but he sighed and closed his eyes, willing it all away. When he opened them again, his face was a lot calmer and his blush had died down as he swung his green, icy eyes back to Cessbulby, who was eating another grape with a light-hearted expression on her small face.

“You saw the fight, then? Who sent the demon after me?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” tutted Cessbulby, waggling a small, pale finger towards Harry's direction in a slightly reproachful manner. “That question's not part of the bargain. Maeve didn't actually see the summoning. We just watched the fight.”

Harry frowned sourly but grunted in acknowledgement and moved to a different topic.

“Cessbulby, do you have any news about the Order of the Black Denarius? Have the gangs been fighting with each other again? Have they encountered the Knights of the Cross? Are any of them dead?” He asked.

“Now that you ask, I remember hearing that Nicodemus has really gotten beaten up lately,” Cessbulby said, nodding her head in thought as she shoved a handful of cheese into her mouth.

“Really?” Harry asked quickly, not feeling surprised when he felt a surge of elation from Meciel. Nicodemus and his Fallen were no friends with Meciel and it had been Nicodemus who had ordered his daughter, Deirdre, to kill the new host of Meciel and Harry several years ago. Although Harry had survived the fight and kept his head down from then on, he knew that Nicodemus still occasionally searched for Meciel, still seeking to destroy her and her host.

“Yeah,” Cessbulby said, her gaze leaving Harry's face as turned back to the plate, a cute frown on her face as she searched the last scraps of food. “There was a lot of fighting with him and Balthrail. He lost of lot of territory and assets.”

“Well, finally, some good news,” Harry muttered, a small smile of satisfaction growing on his face.

“Anyway, Nicodemus' might have recovered, but the last of his powerbase was broken because of the Knights of the Cross,” Cessbulby continued, her voice glum as she sifted through the microscopic crumbs, too small even to pipe her interest. “He's was really mad, especially when his daughter was killed by the Knights, that Michael Carpenter guy.”

“Deirdre is dead?” Harry said, a full-blown grin appearing over his face and he let out a small chuckle of glee, his face lighting up and his eyes sparkling in happiness. “Oh, this day is getting a lot better. What's Nicodemus doing now? Tell me he's crying; please tell me he's crying.”

“No, he's not crying,” Cessbulby said, giggling a little at Harry's crestfallen face as she gave an experimental bat of her wings. “The last we all saw was an oath to destroy the son's and brutalise his daughters of the Knight, before killing the Knight himself. So, do you have anymore food?”

Harry, however, had started at Nicodemus' oath and was frowning, absently gnawing on his lips as he shook his head distractedly.

“No, no food,” He muttered. “When did Nicodemus make this oath?”

The small faery shrugged her tiny shoulder, seemingly unconcerned.

“It was really recent,” She answered.

Harry's frown deepened. Recent to immortal creature could mean hours or days. He leaned back on the floor as Cessbulby glanced around one last time for any food and disappeared in a showery sparkle of silver motes, returning back to her home in the Nevernever. Charity and her family were in danger. Sure, he didn't like them, hell, they had kidnapped and imprisoned him, but they have saved his life. He frowned, indecision marring his features as he sat there. Technically, Harry owed them a debt for saving his life. Sure, it had been the Knights that had stabbed him but it had been Charity who had looked after him, even if he hadn't wanted it at the time.

“The knight was the one who injured me in the first place,” Harry muttered as he stood up, giving a short sharp flick with his wand. The dirty and food-smeared tray shot from the floor and sailed through the air, landing on the bench with a loud clutter.

'But the family saved your life.' Meciel said severely, and Harry could tell she was taken this very seriously. 'We owe them a great debt.'

“You want me to go and do something stupid, don't you?” Harry asked with a weary sigh. Still, the face of a small girl staring at him with pity flashed through his face and he hesitated, his face marred with indecision and uncertainty, before he let out a resigned sigh as he made his decision and walked into his bedroom, strapping his sword on his back as he continued. “This is about your little rules of honour and debt, the Old World stuff.”

'Many of the hostilities between Nicodemus and I started because I followed the Old Rules and he did not.' Meciel said. 'Besides, if you weren't going to do something, then why are you readying yourself for combat?'

Harry rolled his eyes as he strapped the dulled and aged revolver in a leather holster beneath his overcoat and gripped his wand to his hand.

“Because I knew that you were going to make me do this,” He muttered. “Whether I wanted to go or not. Besides, I haven't fallen that low yet and it does gets rid of the debt and piss off Nicodemus at the same time. What more could I ask for?”

Meciel's amused laughter was the last thing he heard as he apparated away from his apartment with a small crack, the location of Charity's house firmly imprinted into his mind.

On a suburban street within the third largest city in America loomed a two-story white house. A white picket fence surrounded a well-trimmed green lawn and garden, flowers sprouting out from the soil. Brightly coloured children toys lay scattered over the lawn and parked in the driveway was a blue minivan, the same one that Harry had slashed the tires off in his last visit. The clouds still spat out a rough shower of rain, rumbling ominously as lightning flashed in the distance. It was during one of the peals of thunder that Harry apparated into the street, ducking his head as he was instantly soaked.

“Fucking hell, Meciel,” He grumbled under his breath and quickly got off the street, eyeing the house in front of him with a dark frown on his face as he approached the gate. He opened it and stepped onto the small, cobbled path, but he suddenly stopped as he felt a web, or aura of quiet but intense power, a throbbing holiness that seemingly surrounded the entire house.

“The wards didn't hurt me first time but the family had invited me in, so they could have been bypassed,” said Harry, hesitation on his face as he suddenly had images of him turning into a small, greasy smear on the Carpenter's driveway. “Will they hurt me now?”

'The wards of Angelic make, designed to keep out dark forces and protect whoever is inside.'

“Angelic, as in real angels? With wings and halos?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow as his gaze wondered over the house, suddenly feeling a lot warier

'Yes, beloved, real angels. I do not know if the wards will harm you. However, given all that I know of angelic work and magic, I believe that as long as you have pure intentions, you will be safe.'

Harry frowned and hesitated, his hand lingering on the gate, before he took a deep breath, strengthened his resolve and taking a step forward into the wards with his eyes squeezed shut. Although he had braced himself for pain, he was relieved when he felt the wards part before him like a billowing curtain and let a small grin come over his face. The smile vanished as he remembered why he was here and he quickly walked up the path, the rain beating down on his body as he approached the door and gave a sharp, rap with his knuckles.

There were footsteps from within the house and Harry waited impatiently, the rain soaking into him even further as somebody unlatched the door. The door swung open and a tall woman with dark eyes, silken blonde hair and a polite smile appeared. But her smile disappeared as she laid eyes on Harry, recognition flooding over her features as her face paled, while Harry a little wave with his hand. She tried to slam the door but Harry moved quickly, his foot slamming against the door and the edge, holding it open. Anger sparked in Charity's eyes, her fear giving away to determination as she pressed herself against the door with all of her strength, but Harry's first words made her halt.

“Your family is in danger,” The teenage boy said quickly, his green eyes eying Charity carefully, who halted at his statement as the first signs of proper rage washed over her beautiful features.

“Are you threatening my family?” She asked coldly, her voice barely a whisper. “Because if you hurt my children, I will hunt you down.”

“Not me, you idiot,” Harry snapped out in irritation, brushing his water-soaked hair away from his eyes. “If I wanted to kill you, would I have knocked?”

Charity hesitated, her gaze staring at him unblinkingly as Harry let out a small sigh and removed his foot from the door. Instead of slamming it shut, Charity slowly opened it again, her body framing against the sudden light as a rush of warmth gushed from the house. Charity eyed him coldly, her face as hard as it would be if it had been made out of marble, and Harry began talking.

“Look, your husband recently killed a Fallen named Deirdre,” Harry said impatiently. “Do you know who that is?”

“I've heard of the name,” Charity answered, her voice quiet but still loud enough to be heard over the rumbling of the storm.

“Deirdre was the daughter of a powerful Fallen, Nicodemus,” Harry said and saw Charity jerk at the name. He gave a grim smile and continued on. “With her death, Nicodemus lost a lot of power, territory and from what I've heard, a lover.”

“You mean…” Charity asked, revulsion twisting her features as she made an odd motion with her hands.

“Yeah,” Harry answered with a quick nod.

“Why are you telling me this?” Charity asked quietly, puzzlement flashing over her face.

“Nicodemus has sworn revenge not only on Michael but his entire family, including his children,” Harry said and watched as Charity flinched with shock, her eyes widening as her gaze darted back into the house. “He's sworn that he will destroy Michael's sons and brutalise his daughters. Your sons. Your daughters.”

Charity staggered back, her face paling in dread and she made to turn around, as if she desperately needed to see if her children were alright, but Harry stopped her, grabbing on her warm arm with a strong hand. She whipped around, anger flashing through her stormy eyes.

“Are all of your children at home?” Harry asked quickly, a trace of urgency in his voice, which hardened when Charity didn't answer the question, her gaze stuck on Harry's hand clasped around her arm. “Hey! Listen to me, and answer the question! Are they home?”

“Daniel's driving Alicia to the shops,” She replied faintly. “Mathew, Hope and Harry are home. Amanda is at her magic school with her sister, Molly.”

“Molly, the true-wizard?” Harry asked, frowning in puzzlement. “What's she doing at a wand-wizard's school?”

“She's become a teacher of some sorts,” Charity answered and jerked her arm away from his grip, her eyes furious, but Harry ignored her anger as a speculative look came over his face and he quickly began talking.

“Okay, Amanda and Molly are safer than you are right now,” He murmured, biting down on his lip absently. “Does Daniel or Alicia have a phone with them?”

Charity frowned but nodded slowly, staring at him with a puzzled and confused expression on her face, as if she still didn't known what was really going on.

“Ring them and tell them to go to a safe place, a holy place if they can,” Harry suggested, brushing away his hair as it splattered in front of his eyes again. Water dripped from his body and although he was partially protected by the waterproof overcoat, he was still getting soaked as he stood outside in the storm. “You should grab your children and get to a safer place as well. The house might protect you from people like me, but normal humans can walk right up and shoot you dead.”

“Why are you helping me?” Charity asked slowly, a faint shine of suspicion lurking in her eyes, her face puzzled.

Harry let out an annoyed sigh, his eyes glinting with irritation.

“You saved my life,” he said with gritted teeth. “I owe you a debt that I'd like to get rid off. I've warned you, do what I say and you'll be safe, and what do you know, the debts been repaid.”

Charity stared at him, suspicion and puzzlement on her face and he rolled eyes, another annoyed sigh escaping him.

“It's an Old World thing that Meciel insists on following,” He grumbled sourly. “Look, just do whatever you want to do. I warned you. If you don't listen, it's not my fault.”

He turned around; preparing to leave the house with a disgruntled look on his face, but it was at that moment that a dark van pulled over on the side of the street, its tyres making a loud, screeching noise as it rolled to a stop in front of the house. He cocked his head, eyeing the van closely as several men jumped out from it, wearing bulky trench coats and cold, hard faces.

“On second thoughts, why don't you grab your kids and get to the car,” Harry said slowly, moving his head out of the way and letting Charity see the men milling outside her house. “I'll take care of these guys.”

Charity eyed him for a second, her expression a mixture between puzzlement and gratefulness and she closed her door. Harry could hear her locking it and latching and spun around, striding out into the rain with a brilliant smile on his face.

“Hey!” He called out, grabbing the attention of all six of the men, who regarded him with stony faces and blank eyes. Within his mind, Meciel unleashed a wave of warmth, thawing his chilled bones and energising his body while speaking.

'Nicodemus finds it amusing to cut the tongues out of his men, to keep them from telling others his secrets. If they are able speak then perhaps they are not his men after all.'

“Could one of you open your mouth?” He asked, still smiling as he tensed, readying himself for combat.

The quick glances between the men were all the confirmation he needed and his smile dropped, his lips curling in anger as he moved with a flash pulling out his revolver and levelling it at the first man. He pressed the trigger and there was a thundering boom as the man's head flopped back, the bullet killing him instantly as he fell to the ground.

The other men moved fast, their hands flying into their coat as they brought up a variety of automatic weapons. But Harry had dropped his gun then instant he had fired the bullet, his wand whipping up out of his overcoat in his right hand. Wand-magic flowed into him, an icy trickle that Harry channelled through his wand as the men pulled down the triggers on their weapons.

The guns fired, spewing out dozens of bullets in a matter of mere seconds, but they slammed into a burning dome of fiery red and black magic that formed around Harry, who smiled grimly as the bullets cracked and splintered as if they were striking a solid brick wall. Steam billowed out from his magical shield as the clouds continued to spew out rain, water striking the fiery heat and instantly evaporating.

The men stopped firing as they ran out of ammunition, their eyes wide as Harry reached over his shoulder and metal hissed on metal as he drew out his gleaming steel blade, his eyes cold and dangerous. His stance shifted as he delved into the instincts and practical memories of one of Meciel's previous hosts, and he glided forward, his fiery red and golden shield fading away. The sword flashed through the air with a deadly hiss and one man gave a startled scream of pain as he was killed, the blade ripping into his throat, blood splattering towards the muddy ground.

The other men took startled steps backwards, their eyes wide as they quickly and professionally reloaded their weapons, but they weren't quick enough as Harry glided forward, eyes gleaming with battle-lust as he lunged, the sword thrusting into the man. Skin sizzled and blood boiled as Harry withdrew his sword, which had an aura of crimson heat around it, making it seem like the blade was warped and deformed. The body collapsed to the ground and Harry twirled on his feet, disapparating as the men opened fire again, loud, repeated rattles echoing through the soaking street.

He reappeared between two of the men, his eyes alight with pleasure as he slammed the hilt of his sword at the man on his left. The flaming aura around the sword flared with dark light and Harry heard a loud, cracking noise as the blow burst open the man's skull, blood dribbling from his eyes and nose as he fell limply to the ground, dead or worse. The other man spun around but Harry flicked his sword out, almost casually, and he slammed into the ground, faint surprise and shock showing in his dead eyes as blood flowed from a deep, stomach wound.

The last man gave a wordless cry of rage and fear as he held down the trigger of his gun and although Harry flicked his wand with a quick, sharp movement, a shimmering, almost transparent magical barrier appeared in front of him, one of the bullets glanced past and slammed into his shoulder. The bullet smacked into the bone and Harry felt the first signs of pain as it threatened to flare up into an agonising burning sensation, before he suddenly went completely numb in the shoulder as Meciel made a careful mental adjustment to his perception, blocking out the pain.

“Exturbo Arduro!” Harry snarled out with anger, his eyes almost glowing with rage as he levelled his wand at the man in front of him.

The man, fumbling to reload his weapon again, let out a startled, muffled cry of shock as he was struck- a blast of bright fire and searing heat knocking him off his feet, jutting into his chest and killing him within a second. The man's body slammed into the ground, oily black smoke rising from searing flesh and dispersing in the heavy rain and the clouds above rumbled again, as if they were signalling the end of the battle.

Harry sheathed his sword onto his back, eying his bullet wound with a grimace as he let Meciel's searing power flow out of him, the anger, rage and intoxication that came with it fleeing as quickly as he came. He truly understood how some people could go insane with repeated use of dark powers if it brought along feelings like that. He flicked his wand, almost lazily, and the fallen revolver soared into his hands as Harry turned back to the house, seeing Charity shepherding her children out of the house.

Her eyes were wide with disgust, gratefulness and perhaps a hint of satisfaction a she stared at the bloodied and broken bodies on her perfectly manicured lawn, placing herself between her children and the view as she moved them towards the van. She ushered her wide-eyed children away from Harry as he approached, his spectre adopting an air of grim satisfaction as he held the gun in his hand.

“Here,” Harry said gruffly, extending out the revolver to the blonde-haired woman, who was quickly becoming soaked as she stared at Harry with a strange expression on her face, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Slowly, she reached out an arm to take the gun while her children, some as young as nine, others as old as eighteen, watched the exchange with wide-eyes as the huddled behind her.

Harry reached into his coat with his good arm, wincing as he felt the numbness of his shoulder and knowing that he would have to look into the wound soon. He pulled out a fistful of bullets and handed them to the nearest child, a teenage boy with dark hair, who took them with shaking hands as he eyed Harry with something akin to awe on his face.

“Can you get away from here?” Harry asked quietly as he placed his wand back into his coat, water dripping from his hair as lightning flashed in the distance, a thunderous boom accompanying it seconds later.

“Yes,” Charity answered, nodding her head, her eyes never leaving his. “We have a safe place, somewhere where the Fallen will be unable to find us.”

“Good,” Harry declared with something like relief. “The debts almost repaid. Now, about your other children…?”

“I rang Daniel and Alicia and they're heading to a nearby church,” Charity answered. “The priest there will arrange to get them to the safe place. But I don't know how to get in touch with Molly or Amanda. They usually send the mail to us.”

Harry froze and let out a wearied sigh, rubbing his face with his good arm as he blinked languidly.

“The school, it's Salem's, right?” He asked with something like resignation in his voice.

Charity nodded. “Amanda will be there, but Molly was leaving for England today for some kind of competition between the different magic schools that Salem's was asked to participate in this year.”

Harry frowned, a touch of dismay on his face, but he nodded.

“I'll get them and warn them,” He said curtly and turned around, readying himself to apparate.

“Thankyou,” Charity called out from behind him, her voice full of gratefulness. “I mean it, thankyou for saving my children's lives.

Harry made a noise alike to gruff dismissal and twirled on his feet, his overcoat flaring over his figure as he apparated away. His last view was of Charity, her face reflecting solemn appreciation, and her children huddled up behind her, before he felt a very unpleasant squeezing sensation as though being sent through a tight rubber tube, as he disapparated from the street, his destination, the closest wand-wizards restaurant near Salem's Wizards and Witches Academy.