Harry switched the grip on his wand and prepared to hammer the pointed metal end through the back of Voldemort's skull.  

“Potter!” a man's voice cried from across the clearing of people.  

Apparently the perpetrator's beckon was based purely on malevolent motivation, as Harry didn't have time to see whom it was that called.  Instead his briefly upturned face met with an explosion of green light that launched him off of the Dark Lord.  Everything went silent.  No more wailing people, no sobs of those suffering from fear and loss, no shouts of anger, no spell incantations - Just pure, peaceful, silence.   

He stared up at the clear, blue sky accented with puffy white clouds, a single crow flew past.  A portrait of serenity, save for the occasional fleeing person who passed through his periphery.

You know that's going to leave a mark. Salazaar Slytherin's voice broke the calm, though the cacophony of the chaos surrounding Harry remained muted to him.

Harry grunted, Five more minutes Sal.

A white masked figure came into view and stood over Harry, staring down at the fallen wizard.  The Death Eater mask moved over his face indicating the man was saying something, not that Harry could hear it.  

The nice Death Eater wants you to come out and play Harry, Slytherin replied, it wouldn't be polite to keep him waiting.  

Well, manners first. Harry answered.  He shifted his sight back to thestral-vision, for the pretty colors of course, it also did the trick of returning his hearing as he'd hoped.  “I'm afraid your witty banter is lost on me, I can't hear a word your saying.”  

The Death Eater actually flinched away when Harry spoke, he recovered quickly by kicking Harry over and again.

Harry apparated away from the spot as the Death Eater was mid-kick.  The momentum of the ensuing errant kick sent the man flailing.  He landed with a thud on his ass and Harry rewarding him for the effort by sending a cutting curse through the back of his head.  

Harry took a moment to check his face and make sure everything was still in its proper place.  He then summoned the wand he'd meant to put through the back of Riddle's head that had been thrown from his grip after the killing curse struck.  Wands in hand, eyes, ears, mouth, and nose still in place, Harry turned to face the location where he'd left Voldemort taste-testing the dirt.  

The Dark Lord had already risen from his grass growing watch-post and had witnessed The-Boy-Who-Lived continue to do so despite taking a money shot full of killing curse.  

Harry snarled and tensed, ready to pounce once more.  This opportunity had escaped him when he returned from the afterlife.  He wasn't ready then even if he didn't know it.  Now he had a good idea just what the “power he knows not” was, and the small fact that this wouldn't be a permanent death did little to diminish the unwavering yearn to feel his nemesis' body gasp its dying breath in his hands.  

Voldemort's eyes connected with Harry's, both glaring equal parts hatred for the other.  Harry dug his back foot into the dirt beneath and raised his wand.  Voldemort responded just as quickly.  In an instant Harry was a puff of black smoke, his moment was now and Voldemort was going to die or learn how to breathe with a metal wand through his neck.  

It wasn't original, but the well source of creative slaughter was inaccessible at the moment.

Harry reappeared at a spot that should have been directly in front of the Dark Lord.  Instead of jabbing just one wand when he rematerialized he jutted both forward with all his might.  Neither struck their target.  

The black cloud of smoke caused by Harry's apparition dissipated, but his thestral eyes already informed him that the Dark Lord was no longer there.  Frantically he searched the grounds!  The green grass was red with blood, spells flew from every direction, finely dressed wedding guests and white masked Death Eaters dueled to the death; but Voldemort was nowhere to be found.  

Did he leave! Harry screamed in his head.  

Looks like. Slytherin replied calmly.  

Harry dropped his Occlumency shields hoping the flood of pain that came in Riddle's presence would be there.  Nothing.  

“Did that wanker actually run away!” Harry screamed.  “You're fucking kidding me!”

xxx

“Do you wish to continue, Mr. Potter?”  Ringhurst asked.  

“Huh?” Harry replied with as much incredulity as could fit into the single syllable.

“With the business at hand,” the goblin clarified.  “I come to you uninvited and during your rightful grieving period.  I then cast upon you access to the knowledge that that which you seek to destroy is inhabited within you.  By your rights, Mr. Potter, you could demand retribution against me.”  

“Grieving period?  Retribution?” Harry repeated with confusion.

“The elders would hear your cause and rule on an appropriate penance,” Ringhurst continued.

Harry shook his head. “Go on with all that! Do I really look like I haven't enough on my mind to be dealing with goblin elders as well?”

The corners of Ringhurst's mouth twitched slightly.

“One comment about my mind being full, and the elder won't ever get their chance,” Harry snapped.

“Very well.  Do you intend to destroy the remaining Horcrux before facing the one within you?”  

“Unless you've got another option that doesn't include turning me into a squib,” Harry answered.

“I do not.”

“Then there you have it,” Harry answered.  “You brought the Semblac Infensor here for a reason other than showing me my head was a hotel?”  

“It was my original plan to show how the Semblac Infensor could remove and destroy a Horcrux and then negotiate an agreement for the cost of obtaining this service from Gringotts.  However, with what has transpired in the fallout of my hastiness, such an agreement would be considered a dishonor by the Goblins.  My only recourse is to extend an offer to destroy whatever Horcruxes you obtain, as a gesture of good will.”  

This time the corners of Harry's mouth twitched.  “The elders aren't going to be too happy with you then?”  

“No, not at all,” Ringhurst replied.

“It's always a negotiation with this bastard isn't it?” Harry asked.

“Always,” Slytherin confirmed.

“Then what we've got here is an opportunity, and another situation where Ringhurst is hoping I'm stupid enough to take his first offer.”  

Harry looked at Ringhurst. “You only take the fall here if I take you up on this deal, correct?” Harry didn't wait for an answer. “After all, you'd have to explain to the other goblins why you were getting rid of the Horcrux for me free of charge.” Harry eyed the goblin sternly, “What if all that wasn't necessary?”  

“I'm listening, Mr. Potter.”  

“How about you let me worry about destroying whatever Horcruxes I find, but in the unlikely case I don't get rid of them all, the Goblins will use the Semblac Infensor to destroy them in my absence.”

“Why would I accept this deal?”  

“Lots of reasons, but mainly because if I handle my business your ass if off the hook.  But if I don't, then all you've essentially got to do is the very same thing you're already offering.”  

“You wish the Semblac Infensor to be your back up plan, wizard,” Ringhurst snarled.

“Something like that,” Harry replied. “But the way I see it, you're the one in a questionable situation here and I like the idea of having a goblin who owes me a favor.”

“Favor wizard. Goblins do not enter into agreements so fool heartedly.”

“Well, I could take my case to the elders and see what sort of agreement they'd be interested in offering,” Harry gambled at calling the goblin's bluff.  

Ringhurst face held steady has he considered Harry's reply.  “You play a dangerous game,” He finally answered.

“I know. Call me crazy letting you off the hook.  It must be all this grief overwhelming my rational mind,” Harry said with dramatic flare.

***

Harry plucked a Death Eater from the battle as he ran past chasing a wedding guest.  The wizard flailed against Harry's grip and tried to raise his wand in defense. The offending tool was smacked away effortlessly and the man's mask pulled off.  The look of fear that met Harry's eyes didn't deter him in the least.  “Your boss is a sodding coward!  Did you know that?” he yelled manically into the young man's face.

The Death Eater couldn't respond on account of Harry firmly gripping him by the throat with both hands.  His rage began the process of freezing the wizard's flesh beneath his fingers, and the curdled sounds of death offered no satisfaction.  

“Harry!” Hermione screamed out once again.  

Harry dropped the suddenly headless torso and ducked.  Past occurrences rang true to memory, and if they were any indicator, an errant curse was likely on its way.  “Fool me twice, bitch,” Harry murmured in explanation to no one.  

Nothing struck him this time.  He located Hermione and found the reason for the beckon was not for his sake but hers.  Ron and she were cornered by several Death Eaters and weren't fairing well.  Both were bloody, and Ron was wavering in his attempts to keep up with the assault.  Behind them was someone they were protecting, but Harry couldn't make out whom.  

He ran to their aid sending random curses two at a time at Death Eaters along the way.  His unnatural speed had him at his friend's side within seconds, but it wasn't soon enough to save Ron.   A cutting curse struck him as he tried to dodge and fire at the same time. The spell opened the right side of his abdomen and sent him crumpling to the ground. Hermione's composure fell with her boyfriend; fortunately Harry had little need for her help in slaying the Death Eaters attacking them.  

With the Death Eaters dispatched, Harry checked to make sure they were clear from follow up attacks.  The battle was winding down, and the remaining Aurors were starting to gain control of the massacre. Of course, this advantage came after nearly all the wedding guests had been slaughtered and the Death Eaters began voluntarily retreating from the Burrow.  Harry turned to check on Ron and saw that the person his friend had been standing over was the dead body of Molly Weasley.  

“Harry you saved us!” Hermione's eyes were distant and manic as she rattled on, “I knew you'd come to the wedding. I told them!”  She reached out with one of her bloody hands that had been applying pressure to Ron's wound.  Apparently a panicked Hermione resorted to Muggle sensibilities when confronted with mortal peril.  A healing spell would have served Ron's gushing wound better than the palms of the witch's hands.  

She grasped Harry's arm tight enough there was no mistaking the despair behind the gesture.  Wincing, she snapped her hand away just as quickly.  

“Don't touch me,” Harry snapped.

“You hurt me,” Hermione gasped, holding the cold burned skin on her hand against her chest.  

“You hurt yourself.  Don't touch me,” Harry said flatly

The witch continued staring blankly at Harry as he looked back to the dissipating battle around them.  Content the Death Eaters were no longer a threat, Harry met Hermione's gaze.  “You know Ron would be better off if you used a spell to stop the bleeding rather than your hands.”

Hermione snapped from her gaze and fished her wand from the grass.  Her hands shook as she held the wand, but the healing spell was administered and Ron's stomach stopped hemorrhaging.  

“What the hell were you all thinking putting on a wedding like this?  Might as well have hung a flashing sign that read, 'Death Eater target practice, beverages served'!”  Harry snapped.  “You two are lucky to be alive.”

Hermione didn't respond.  Her eyes were fixed on her blood-covered hands, and the longer she stared the harder her body shook.  “They're all dead, the Weasleys, my…mum and dad…” She slowly turned her palms so they faced Harry and let out a guttural moan, “My parents are dead!”  

Harry watched as his friend reduced to a sobbing state of shock.  She crumbled into herself, holding her hands over her face and screaming guttural wails of pain. Instincts demanded Harry to offer solace, but no sensible consolation came to mind.  Without words to help him, he struggled to reel in his temper so that he might hold the violently sobbing witch.  

Hermione latched onto him as soon as she felt the contact. “Oh god, Harry, I want to die. It hurts so bad…too much…I can't bear it!”  Her broken cries fell against Harry's ear and he had to force himself not to pull away.  

He guided the girl's head away from his own so she could see his ashen face.  Still unsure of what to say, he just stared momentarily, waiting for inspiration to strike. A distinct sensation of being struck arrived, though he saw it as a flash of red reflected in the whites of Hermione's eyes and the only inspiration involved was a forced state of unconsciousness.  

***

“Forgetting the wretched notion of being in your debt, what is to stop you from fabricating your own death so that the goblins must assume the responsibilities of destroying the Horcruxes, wizard?” Ringhurst asked.  

“Aside from that being a near impossibility, I would offer an oath on my magic to the contrary,” Harry responded.

“I do believe a wizard such as you could find the means for faking one's own death.”  

“You overestimate me, Ringhurst.”  His response was laced with sarcasm and the goblin's responding sneer clearly illustrated his lack of appreciation for the remark.  “It is an interesting counter proposal, Harry.  However you underestimate goblin pride.  My brothers would see it undignified to serve as back up plan for one wizard's vendetta against another.”  

“Vendetta,” Harry scoffed.  “If I lose and little, itty, bitty, pieces of Voldemort's soul are left floating the world round then everyone, including the goblins, is screwed.  I'd say being back up to the only plan that's going to avoid a nationwide anal flogging goes just a tad beyond vendettas.”  

“The Goblins have suffered and survived regime change among your kind before.”

Harry looked at the Semblac Infensor still in his hands, and then back to the riled up goblin across from him.  He shook his head with disgust and tossed the rock carelessly back to Ringhurst.  “You know what Ringhurst, do what goblins do best.  Figure out what's more profitable.  And when the time comes you and your pals can do whatever you like.”  Harry claimed the Grimoire from the table. “By that point, it won't make a lick of difference to me anyways. Just don't forget that in the meantime, you owe me!”

He left the goblin standing alone in the basement living area.  

***

“Wake up, Potter.  There'll be no faking this time round.”  

Harry opened one eye, then the other; both took in the sight of Mad-Eye Moody filling their periphery.  He tried to jerk away, but found the ropes that bound him to the chair he was in offered no slack for retreat.  

“Oh aye, you'll not be going anywhere anytime soon, lad,” Moody snarled, still in Harry's face.  “The way I figure, with all the commotion about, we've got a good couple hours before the ministry's looking your way.” Mad Eye pulled back and stomped his fake leg twice onto the wooden floor of Mr. Weasley's workshop outside the Burrow.  It caused various Muggle items on the shelves and walls to rattle in their place.  “Yes, plenty of time for questioning a murdering, traitor such as you.”  

Harry fought to clear the fog from his mind as he looked around the workshop.  Hermione was there, still in the torn and blood stained white dress she wore to the wedding.  She didn't look at him, but he didn't need to see her eyes to tell she was not long removed from crying.  Kingsley Shacklebolt was the only other Auror in the room. When Harry met his eyes, the large man showed only hate in return.  Ron was also there, bandaged and huddled in the corner behind Hermione. At first Harry thought he wasn't conscious, but Ron turned his head up from the floor to look at Harry. The gaze behind Ron's return stare was utterly vacant.  He just stared at Harry with his mouth held open and his bloodshot eyes unblinking.  

Moody pointed his wand at Harry's forehead and slowly pulled it away.  The magic behind the movement gripped the young wizard's head, forcing him to turn his face upward towards the grizzled ex-Auror.  “You're going to tell me who you've been working with, Potter.  You're going to tell me why you've committed treason against the Ministry.  And, you're going to tell me where you've been hiding.”  

Harry sneered with vicious intent at Moody but said nothing.  He used every bit of that rage and focused it on freezing the ropes and chair that bound him.  The room instantly grew significantly colder, as evident by the sudden show of Moody's breath in the air, but the ropes and chair remained unaffected.  

“Done my homework since our last encounter,” Moody supplied.  “It seems conjuring up frost-proof restraints does the trick nicely.  I put up some anti-apparition wards 'round the building as well.  So no need to waste your time trying that puff 'o' smoke trick neither,” the Auror gruffed with a self-satisfied laugh.   

It didn't stop Harry from trying to Apparate anyway.  He managed a small cloud of black smoke, but he failed to break through the ward.  Finally he tried transforming into his animagus form.  At first it seemed he'd be successful, but when his transfiguring appendages forced themselves against their bonds, the ropes held.  It sent a pain through his body he'd never experienced before and quickly forced him to desperately fight his way back to human form.  

Shacklebolt joined Moody this time in their condescending laughter.  Fully human again Harry glared at each with hate.  “You're not paying attention, are you lad?  I told you from the get you'll not be going anywhere anytime soon,” said Mad Eye with a satisfied grin.  

The smile fell from Moody's face instantly. “Now, let's begin.  Who's been helping you?”  

Harry stared at Moody blankly.  After a moment's silence, Mad Eye struck Harry across the face with the back of his hand.  Harry's head swung away from the force of the blow, but his anger drove him to turn back towards the Auror defiantely.  “It doesn't get easier from here, Potter.”  

Harry continued staring, undeterred.  

“Where have you been hiding?” Moody asked with very little conviction.  

Harry remained silent.  

A second backhand rewarded his incompliance.  “Why did you commit treason?”  Moody asked, the same detached calm in his voice.  

Harry spat the blood now pooling in his mouth into the face of Mad Eye Moody.  

The Auror snarled and punched Harry square in the mouth, knocking the wizard and the chair he was bound to backwards.  Stepping around the fallen chair, Moody looked down from a position over Harry's face and said, “Straight to business then, eh Potter?”

Shacklebolt waved his wand, righting Harry and the chair instantly.  

“Could use Veritaserum, Shacklebolt's got some on him you know,” Moody said, “But I think a strong-minded young wizard like you will need some loosening up before the potion'll work effectively.”  He punched Harry again, but this time the chair didn't move at all. It made the force of the blow all the more painful to endure.  “Three simple questions Potter.  Answer 'em and your friends here won't have to watch me give a lesson in the 'old ways'.”  

As Harry's head lulled towards his chest, he turned his eyes up and provided Moody his most sadistic smile.  

“It's funny is it?”  Moody asked just before he punched Harry twice in the stomach and once more across the chin.  

“Ha ha ha!” Harry laughed out loud as soon as his wind returned.  

Moody punched him once more in the stomach, which only caused a brief pause in Harry's increasingly manic laughter.  

“Crucio!” Moody barked.  The curse hit with as much physical force as any one of the previously delivered blows.  The pain that ran through Harry as Mad Eye held the curse was agonizing, but it was only held for a moment.  

Harry stopped laughing and Moody stomped his fake leg twice more on the wooden floor in approval.  “Not so funny anymore!”  

Harry turned to his Thestral sight, if only so his eyes were completely black as he stared at Moody.  His voice was patently calm when he spoke. “You touch me again I'll rip off your good leg and beat him to death with it.”  Harry turned his head slowly and stared at Shacklebolt so as to clarify exactly who was the “him” implied.  

The comment registered shock from both Aurors, and even Ron was shaken from his forlorn state by the ferocity of Harry's words.  

“He won't talk Alastor,” Shacklebolt said.  

“Nay, eventually they all talk,” Moody replied without turning his eyes away from Harry.  “Give me his wands.”  Shacklebolt complied without hesitation.

Harry eyed his newly created wands as Moody turned them over in his hands.  “Interesting design Potter, though I doubt any effective amount of magic could pass through this material.”  

“Give 'em here.  I'll show you,” Harry replied.  

Moody tapped the pointed end of the wand to the side of his temple, mocking consideration for Harry's request.  “Still, with your newfound pension for swordplay and fisticuffs, I imagine you haven't much need for precision magic work.”  He pressed his fingertip against the pointed end of one of the wands.  “A little easier to shove through a wizard's throat this way, then?”  

Harry quickly tried summoning the wands, but the old Auror was too quick and grasped hold of them before they escaped his hands. “You do want these don't you? Well let's not have it said I never gave you anything, Potter.”  Moody lunged at Harry and shoved one of the wands point first through his shoulder.  Harry moaned in pain for the first time as Mad Eye wrenched the wand into the torn flesh.

“Stop it now!” Hermione screamed and ran towards Harry's side. Shacklebolt pointed his wand at the witch, and instantly she was stopped in place.  The bald Auror eyed Ron, daring him to try as well, but Ron stayed put.  

“You hurt her and you better kill me, or I'll not stop until you're dead,” Ron snarled.  

“You're no Potter, Weasley,” Shacklebolt responded. “Just hide in the corner and behave like a good boy.  Hermione will be perfectly fine.”  

“Your friends still care about you, Potter,” Moody said. “Can't figure why, you've caused nothing but pain for them.  You know Ron here lost his entire family today, Hermione as well.  I have to believe none of this would have happened if you'd not been around.”  

“Don't listen to him, Harry!”  Hermione said.  Mad Eye hit her with a silencing spell in response.  

Moody leaned down so he could whisper into Harry's ear. “Listen well, Harry.  I will torture you until I truly believe you have it in you not to talk.  Then, I'm going to torture Weasley until he's dead, and if you still have nothing to say for it I'm going to do the same to the young lady over there.”

Harry's mind filled with rage.  But with the Auror at his side he was no longer obstructing the view of the front door to the building.  Because of this he was able to see with his Thestral eyes a wave of color he only ever saw when Dobby was around.

“Have I made it a point lately to remind you just how many times that house elf has saved your arse?” Slytherin said.  

***

Ringhurst stormed from the basement and up the ladder out to the rubble of a house exposed to the night's warm thick air.  Harry was there, but the Grimoire was no longer in his possession.  “A man with no allies, no friends, and powerful enemies is doomed to failure even if he vanquishes those foes,” Ringhurst said.  

Harry didn't turn to face him.  “Life has failed me; there's no need to be bothered with the headaches that come with friends and allies.”  

“You are a mere child, a wizardling.  You would see yourself represented as the forsaken, bastard child of life herself.  One who has suffered endlessly at the cruel machinations of fate and destiny.” Ringhurst spat on the ground before him. “Phah! You haven't the years on this earth to comprehend suffering!”

Harry faced the seething goblin.  The sight was nearly comical, and Harry was happy to oblige a patronizing smile in the face of the goblin's tantrum.  “The worth of my lot in life doesn't require validation from you, goblin.  Save your estimations for determining exchange rates.”  

Ringhurst let loose what could only be called a war cry and pulled the Semblac Infensor from his suit pocket.  With the stone held between the forefinger and thumb of his right hand, he thrust it above his head.  “A mere couple words wizard, and I could show you true suffering.” His eyes were wide with fury, and every pointy tooth that could show past his lips was revealed in his snarl.

Harry calmly cocked his head to the side. “That's a very nasty thing to say, Ringhurst.  Does this mean we can't do business anymore?”  

“Someone must show you your place!  A word more and I will be that individual!”  

The amused look fell deftly from Harry's face.  He shook his head ever so slightly and then stuck his own right thumb into the air, wiggling it a couple times.  

There was barely time to catch Ringhurst's reaction to Harry's gesture before a loud crack shattered the evening air.  The goblin's gurgled moan of pain chased the echo of the gun's explosion.  

Harry watched as an age-old science experiment unfolded before him.  Drop a magic sapping gemstone and a dismembered goblin thumb from the same height, which hits the ground first?  

In this instance it was the goblin himself that beat both objects to the ground, and the only relevant conclusion to be drawn was that a goblin's brain doesn't operate with the same pain delay response as Harry's.  

Harry summoned the Semblac Infensor to him. Despite his own wishes to ignore it, he watched the side of the stone nearest his head again color blood red.   He walked over to the fallen goblin and kneeled down next to him. “I hope that wasn't your writing hand, Ringhurst.  How else are you going to show me my place if you can't ledger those mounds of paperwork to bury me under?”  

Grasping his bleeding hand with the other, Ringhurst gnashed out, “Finish what we have started here, wizard!  But know your continued mockery only proves me right in death. You have no honor.”  

Harry stood and stared down at Ringhurst with a hateful glare. A moment of righteous anger filled him once more and the simplicity of what it would be to end this creature seemed so clear to him.  Yet he let the Semblac Infensor fall from his fingertips and onto the ground next to Ringhurst's head.  “I'll kill Voldemort, and every last one of his Death Eaters, and the occasional Dementor…and a Ministry person or two, perhaps …but I don't kill those who don't already have it coming. Go back to your bank Goblin,” he said and began walking back towards the basement steps.  

Ringhurst swiped the stone from the ground in his uninjured hand and rose quickly from his doubled over position.  When he spun around to finish what Harry had not, he found himself staring down the business end of the same rifle that had claimed his thumb. “Wizards, goblins, house elves…kill them all the same will I,” Filmore said from the other end of the gun.

***

“Apparently that magical eye of yours can see through everything but your own stupidity, Auror Moody,” Harry shouted, using the guise of pain for his unnecessarily loud announcement.

The magical eye in question spun a full revolution in Moody's head.  Thankfully the wave of Dobby color disappeared before the eye got into a position to see the house elf outside.  “Stupidity you say, Potter?  And what stroke of genius was it that has you strapped to that chair and me standing here free?”

“You mean that brilliant piece of wand work you used when you cursed me in the back?  You're spot on Moody, a regular criminal-apprehending mastermind.  'Course it doesn't take a magical eye to see you're a coward as well.”

“That bastard Snape was right. You really are an arrogant little whelp,” Moody said.  

“I keep hearing that, but no one's convinced me why it's such a bad thing.”   Harry kept his words clipped and emotionless.

“Nay? But murdering and turning against your country, those are traits to be proud of?”  

Harry had to force himself not to role his blacked out eyes in his head.  Talking to his captors was probably worse than any torture they could inflict.  But it's all he could do to buy time for Dobby to make his move.  

“Everything comes with a price, right?”  

“Since when did killing Death Eaters become murder?”  Harry said stoically.  

“Man's got a right to a trial.  Not to be killed indiscriminately.  Vigilantism is no better than terrorism.”  

“Oh, I'm quite discriminate.  If it has a white mask, black hood, and a wand, I kill it.”

“So then you see yourself judge, jury, and executioner?”  

“Thought we already established I'm arrogant,” Harry said.  

“And a murderer by admission, it seems,” Shacklebolt added.  

Harry turned his head so he could look at the large bald man. “Can't murder what's already dead,” he said calmly.

Shacklebolt didn't respond quite so calmly, “I've got a bloody wedding massacre outside the door proving there's more than a few not dead Death Eaters, Harry!”  

“They all died the night they captured me and made the mistake of letting me live through it,” Harry snapped back.  Turning forward in his seat again and regaining his composure he added, “Some just die slower than others.”  

It was then he saw the yellow color stream that represented Dobby wafting down from above.  He looked up casually, trying to feign boredom with the conversation, and saw a disillusioned blur wrapped in the same yellow aura skulking across the wood support beams.  

“Dobby's hit his head one too many times,” Harry said to Slytherin and lowered his head in what he hoped was a quick but inconspicuous fashion.  “If Moody so much as rolls his magical eye, that elf's toast!”

“Than I guess you better not say anything that would cause him to do so,” Slytherin responded.  

“It's that simple then?” Harry shot back sarcastically.  

“What's the matter Mad Eye?  I'm supposed to waddle through life on one good leg, donating chunks of me a Death Eaters at a time, all in the name of justice?  And for what? In the end half of them'll get off free and find a position in the Ministry signing my paycheck! All the while I get to hobble about looking like fruits of my parents never fully ripened.” Harry barked a laugh. “I mean, have you seen yourself?  You look more like the worm than the apple!”  

That got the disfigured Auror's attention quite well. Harry watched the man clunk hurriedly towards him, obviously to deliver another blow.  “No.  You're right, Moody.”  Harry yelled out before the man could reach him. Moody paused.  “I can see how everything you've sacrificed has made a difference.  What with Dumbledore dead, Scrimegour arresting innocent people, and Voldemort laying waste to weddings - excellent work, sir!”

That cost Harry a couple broken ribs and what sounded like a broken nose to match.  The upside, Moody's magical eye is maddeningly fixed on the insolent whelp of a wizard before him.  The downside; in a couple seconds that mad eye is going witness just how quickly said whelp heals.   

Fortunately nothing stirs a Dobby quite like seeing someone hurt the Great and Horcruxed Harry Potter!  The elf dropped from the rafter and landed behind Harry's chair. Even before the sound made from Dobby's feet hitting the floor could alert the Aurors, the elf snapped his fingers.  All at once Dobby dropped his disillusion, Harry's bindings disappeared, and the Aurors jumped to action.  

Harry knew that the elf's overprotective nature would have him gunning for Mad Eye.  Sure enough Dobby was crouching so he could look through the chair legs at the target of his next finger snap.  Conversely, Harry spun out of the chair and away from the crossfire that was about to ensue.  He pulled the wand still stuck in his shoulder free and took aim at Shacklebolt.   

Harry and Shacklebolt both paused as their eyes met, but the clash of Dobby and Moody magic that erupted behind Harry didn't wait for whatever was to come from that moment.  Instead Harry was sent diving to the floor as the chair exploded.  

There wasn't time to turn and see what happened.  An unmistakable yell came from Mad Eye, and when the dust cleared the Auror was gone, along with the front door of the workshop and half of the frame around it.  Harry spun in place on the floor, pointing his wand once more at the remaining Auror.  Shacklebolt stood unmoving and still in the same place.  His wand was no longer pointing at Harry, mainly because there was a Dobby wrapped around his head, snarling and holding pointer finger to thumb in front of his face.  

Death by finger snap, somehow it didn't seem like something covered in Auror training.  

“I'd put your wand down, Kingsley.” ,” Harry said.  “I've seen that look before, and I don't think he intends on getting a butterbeer with his next snap.”  

Kingsley dropped his wand on the floor in front of him. Dobby squinted his eyes and pointed his ears back even farther.  “The shiny headed Auror is dropping all of them.”  ,” Dobby sneered.  The man complied, and Harry watched as a large, bald, wizard bent over, twisted, and turned to remove each of his hidden back up wands; all while a loin cloth wearing house elf remained tightly attached to his neck and head.  

This moment alone was worth each punch, slap, and droning conversation point he had been made to suffer.  

Harry banished the wands to the back of the workshop and then hit Shacklebolt with a stunner that would have silenced Moody's doubt in his wand's abilities.  

“Dobby we should go.”,” Harry ordered.  The house elf's ears perked, and his eyes returned to their usual tennis ball size.  He looked over to Hermione and Ron and waved to both of them with a beaming smile.  

“Harry wait!” Hermione said.

He complied.  “I don't have anything to say to make it right Hermione.  That I'm sorry doesn't mean a thing. Not after what you've lost today, after what you've both lost.”  Harry looked at Ron who for once was looking back at him like he saw a friend.  It gave Harry resolve, “But for what it's worth, I meant it when I said each of them is already dead. After what they've done here today, a whole lot quicker too.”  

“Let us go with you.”  ,” Hermione responded.

Harry hadn't expected that.  “Come with me?” he repeated disbelievingly.  

“We've got nowhere else.  And we could be together again, the three of us.  You said you were going after them, and…we could help you.”  It all babbled together until the end, which was a clear plea from Hermione.  

Harry took a deep breath, “You don't want to be where I'm going, Hermione.”  Harry saw further resolve appear in Ron's eye as he said that, . “Neither of you. What you saw today, and at Hogsmeade.  That's my life now, and then some.”  

“I'm not afraid to fight.”  ,”  Ron said.

Harry bit back the urge to laugh.  “It's not about…fear, Ron.  I'm used to this, I have to be.”  

“And what, we're not?” Ron barked.  “My whole familiesdeadfamily is dead!  Hermione's family is dead!  What makes you so special that you're supposed to fight and we're not?”  

“It's the reason I was sent back!”  Harry yelled in response.  

“Sent back from where, Harry?” Hermione said calmly.  

He realized his error even before Hermione could ask the question.  It forced a pause that he didn't have time for.  There was a mass of dead people outside that workshop and a newly added Auror body to it. “It doesn't matter, now.” ,” Hesaid he said in a clipped tone.  

Ron threw his hands up in disgust, . “I was right from the get, Hermione.  This isn't our friend.”  

“Shut up, Ron.” ,” Hermione yelled.  

Harry wasn't going to let the opportunity slip, . “No, Hermione. Ron's right.  I am different now, which is why you two should go your own way.”  

“That's bullocks Harry Potter, and you know it!” Hermione snapped at Harry as he turned to leave.  “You're still the one destined to beat Voldemort, and we're still the ones who are supposed to help you.  That hasn't changed and you know it.”  

Harry watched the witch turn on the waterworks once more and was almost fooled into believing that theshe was right like she had been so many times in their youth.  But you take a killing curse point blank to the face, and it has a way of providing new perspective.  “You're wrong, Hermione.  This time you don't know all the answers.  I've been tortured, had my soul sucked out of my body, and spat back on this earth.  I've got one thing left to do in this miserable world and that's kill Voldemort.  I don't need you and Ron getting in the way.”  

Ron took Hermione in his arms and shot Harry another hate hate-filled glare.  Things were the way they're supposed to be, Harry thought.  With a look to Dobby he walked through the hole in the front of the workshop created by Moody's body.  

Outside on the grass there was a group of Auror's gathered around the fallen wizard.  As soon as they saw Harry, each of them trained their his wands at him.  Harry stopped a short distance away. Cclose enough to see that Moody's body was so twisted and mangled there was no questioning if he was dead.

Harry looked down to Dobby with utter disbelief, . “You fucking killed him!” Hhe said.  

Dobby cringed, true to self-punishing house elf form, . “Nasty wizard was hurting Harry Potter.”  ,” He he replied quickly and then recovered slightly from his cower.  “Harry Potter sir is still being able to rip off nasty wizard's good leg and beat bald wizard with it - if he so wishes. Dobby is making absolute sure of this before making a new doorway with the nasty wizard.”

***

It had been three weeks since Harry had walked out on Ron and Hermione.  The common scene of Hermione cries, Ron holds her and stares on angrily played itself out, but this time the couple had nothing to fall back onto.  Their families' families were dead, Hogwarts was still recovering from the loss of its headmaster, and the government was losing every facet of a battle with Voldemort; iI, It didn't leave room for accommodating two recently of age and bereaved Gryffindors.

You learn quickly how strong your relationship is when it's forced to stand completely on its own.  That it only took Hermione and Ron a couple days in this fashion to resolutely decide to locate Harry relayed a clear message, even if it would never be actually be said.

Hermione's only relief from her pain was to focus on finding Harry.  She drug Ron about as they retraced every footstep they knew their friend had taken.  In the end, all of her sleuth-work amounted to squat. It wasn't until then that one of the few synapses still firing in Ron's head mouthed the idea, “Maybe he went back to his parents' place.”  Hermione was such a mental wreck by this time that the idea Ron might be right squashed any of her formerly abundant pride in discovering the answer first.

They watched in the distance as Harry stood in front of the rubble of his parents' house arguing with some goblin.  They saw the goblin raise some sort of stone at Harry. They saw Harry give the goblin a thumb up in response.  And they both flinched at the crack of the bullet that claimed the goblins thumb immediately afterward.  

Finally, they watched the now unopposable-thumbed Goblin skulk away and the muggle Muggle who'd rifled off said thumb retreat back beneath the rubble of the house.  

“What in the bloody hell has Harry got himself into?”  Ron said.  

“I'm sure there is some sort of explanation.” ,” Hermione replied.

“Explanation, are you gone?  There's no explanation for living with a muggle Muggle who shoots off goblin thumbs, on the ruins of the house where your parents died no less. We've made a mistake Hermione. When Harry said, 'and then some,', he truly meant it.”  

“We've come too far now to just walk away, Ron!”  Hermione argued.  “They've all gone.  Let's go!”  

Ron would argue if this weren't Hermione, the issue didn't involve Harry, and the witch wasn't wearing that look on her face that meant all breaths offered to the contrary would instantly be defined as wasted. Instead he followed silently behind her as they trekked towards the ruined house.  

Filmore was settling into his workshop, feeling quite pleased with the course of the evening and contemplating the notion that it really wasn't so bad having a wizard and his house rat around.  Hell, despite the rocky introduction, the house rat had plain grown on him.  He liked the way it talked.  

Dobby was still unconscious from his integrity test gone wrong with the table leg.  Everybody knows they just don't make tables like they used to.  The house elf just didn't take into consideration this was one of those tables made in the time of 'used to'.

Harry sat in the living area, planted on the couch mentally preparing himself for an argument with the voice in his head.  Of course this was like treating himself to dinner and a movie before jerking off.  Still, finding out yet another generation of Slytherin lineage resided in his head was disturbing enough he felt justified in taking the extra, even if wholly unnecessary, preparation.  

It was the use of an unsuccessful Alohomora spell on the door hatch leading to the basement the disturbed both Harry and Filmore from their respective places.  They met at the base of the stares and shared a look that both described their mutual frustration with the continued disturbances and their complete agreement the only just response was a quick, but painful death for the offending party.  Fortunately for Ron and Hermione muggles Muggles can't apparateApparate.  

Harry popped into place perched upon the empty doorway frame at the front of the house with his wand trained towards the basement hatchway. He immediately recognized the bushy haired witch accompanied by a tall, lanky, red headed wizard.  As to be expected they were arguing with each other in hushed tones.  

Some things truly never did change.  

“You'd be better off trying to beat that lock in with a hammer.  About as discrete as well.”  ,” Harry said.  

Alarmed, Ron spun instantly and pointed his wand in the direction of the voice.  Hermione on the other hand realized immediately the situation and silently cursed herself for her stupidity.  She stood and turned slowly to face Harry.  

“Bloody hell, Harry. You nearly scared the life out of me.” ,” Ron said.  

In that same instant the basement door flew open.  Sword in hand, Filmore launched himself out of the entry way and high enough into the air so that he landed knees first onto the small of Ron's back.  The wizard was sent toppling face first onto the rubble of the house with an irritated, wizard slaying, muggle Muggle riding him all the way down.  

Hermione snapped around and turned her wand on Filmore, but Harry disarmed her with a silent flick of his wand.  

“Don't!” Harry yelled before Filmore could drive his sword through the back of Ron's head.  

The muggle Muggle complied, but held a fervent intolerant stare down at his prey.  “A shared look, was it not?” He growled.  

“Yes, but I know these two.”  ,”  Harry replied.  

“As a wizard, likely is this to be.  As a wizard slayer, more likely is it kill them I will.” ,” Filmore replied.  

“Harry, do something!” Hermione pleaded.  

“Shut up!” hesnapped.  “Just let him goTrynzington. You already got to shoot the thumb off a goblin tonight.”

“True, though knocked first did the goblin.”  ,” Filmore said as he dismounted Ron and began to head back down the stairs.  “For this trespass, a hand at least should be claimed.”  He called as a final retort.

Ron stood in a huff, “What the hell are you playing at, Potter?”  

“You shut up, too!”  Harry jumped down from the doorframe and looked at Hermione, . “Why are you here?”  

“You know why we're here.”  ,” Hermione answered.  

“And I told you not to follow me.  Did you think showing up unwelcome would somehow change that?”

“We've got nowhere else to go, Harry. Our families are dead; all that we have left is each other.  Why can't you just let us help you?”  

“Because I don't need your help.”  

Hermione stepped closer to Harry, . “Fine,” she said in a defeated tone, “then why can't you find it in yourself to help us?”  

Harry looked away.  This witch was averaging one question out of every three that managed to catch him off guard.  It was really annoying.  “Stay with me, and you'll only end up dead.” ,” He he answered with a level of dejection matching Hermione's.  

“We're dead without you.”  ,” Ron said.  

Harry's eyes turned to Ron's at the unexpected statement. “There's nothing I can say that will make you leave, is there?”  

Ron half smirked, though no true mirth was in his expression. “She's made up her mind, Harry. You know I'm not smart enough to convince her to change it.”  

“We are going to follow you to the very end.” ,” Hermione said resolutely.  

“Till death do you part,” Slytherin said.