Irreversible Destiny

A/N: I’d apologize but I think everyone can sympathize with me. RL is a pain when it wants to be and it took me hostage for quite a few months. Not sure when the next update will be so I spared you all the agony of a cliffhanger. I hope this was well worth the wait and if it wasn’t, I apologize. Overall, I think some parts came out better than others and I will do my best to make the last chapter memorable.

Parseltongue, foreign words, letters/articles etc.
Emphasized words, headings,

Chapter XXVI
Resolution II

Character is the ability to carry out a good resolution long after the excitement of the moment has passed.
-Cavett Robert, Founder of the National Speakers Association

---

General Offices
International Coalition of Defense, British Headquarters, London UK
Wednesday the 24th of December 1997
5:30 AM

The room was fully manned, despite it being Christmas Eve. The International Coalition of Defense, or the Defense League as it was better known as, was taking no chances. As the end of the year drew closer, they had more time to reflect about the events that had passed and consider what may occur in the future. For many this year had been one horror after another and the future looked that much grimmer. In Juliana Ramsey’s case, she could only brood over a cup of coffee and wonder what Voldemort was planning to do.

It would be a few more months before the Wizarding World War was fully consumed by War. Then Death would spread like a dark shadow across the Wizarding World taking lives as ruthlessly as a Blood Mage collecting souls for a Dark offering. She was no fool; it was only a matter of time before things truly got worse. The Samhain Attack had only been a small taste of what was bound to happen next and that Attack had nearly crippled the Ministry.

Voldemort’s first War had been terrible yes and people had lived in fear of their lives and had not known whom to trust or where to look to for guidance but that was a mere shadow of the fear that was steadily creeping across the Wizarding World. Alone Voldemort and his Death Eaters were a fearsome, frightening enemy but with the addition of the supposed Heir of Blaze Hawthorne, who was rumored to be the Guild Lord of the long thought dead Guild of Necromancy, and the elusive, unknown Prince of Dragons, it was a miracle that the majority of the Ministries of Magic world-wide had managed to remain in control.

Declarations of Martial Law were to be expected in the following months and Juliana feared would come after the Christmas Attack. What concerned the Defense League and even the RELIC Organization, was who the standing Military Leaders would side with. Kenneth, Janice, her husband Thomas and she had spent several idle hours discussing the possibilities.

Many countries in Central and Western Europe, with their high populations of Vampires, would likely turn to the Dark Lord. The Middle East would likely be a split between joining the Light and joining the Dark Lord. Most of the African countries would likely stay neutral, the only ones who probably wouldn’t would be those located along the Mediterranean and Red Seas. Asia was hard to guess and the most they could hope for was neutrality, they were in the possession of too many dangerous artifacts and Lost Arts.

South America would be neutral without a doubt, there weren’t enough Wizards and they weren’t organized enough to be of much help. North America would be a powerful ally; the United States was committed to the Light and Canada was almost a surety. Mexico would not have much to offer in the way of manpower but they had an abundance of magical lore which may prove very useful. Australia had never committed itself to any War and would likely act as a safe refuge during the war for civilians.

Kenneth walked into the room, carrying a stack of reports while Janice followed behind him, levitating a tray of beverages.

“I don’t suppose there are any reports from our spies among the Death Eaters?” Juliana asked hopefully.

Kenneth shook his head. “Not so much as a scribble and I’m getting a bad feeling about this. They’ve never gone longer than a month without sending word. After what happened to Davies they are in even more danger than before, that Prince of Dragons is a horror.”

Janice set down the tray on her desk and slouched down in her chair. “And we don’t even know who the hell he is or what he looks like. Just that he’s a goddamned scary son of a bitch!”

Juliana and Kenneth exchanged a look, Janice rarely swore so something bad must have happened to cause her to act like this.

“Did something happen, Janice?”

Silence…then, “Donald told me he’s been restored to active duty.”

“Oh,” Kenneth said eyes wide with comprehension.

Janice was the youngest member of the executive branch of the Defense League and her husband Donald had been one of the highest ranked Hit Wizards. If they had restored him to active duty, it was likely he would be given orders soon and the only missions of his caliber would involve killing anyone with a rank higher than the Common Death Eaters. Only the Inner Circle, the Necromancer, the mysterious Prince of Dragons and possibly even Voldemort himself were the few who fell into that category. Only three of ten Hit Wizards deployed on such missions returned alive and of those three only one would be successful. It was little reason why Janice was so upset.

“Do you have any idea who he might be targeting?” Juliana asked gently.

Janice shook her head, “No, I don’t know but…this isn’t like the first War! Donald used to tell me stories and this is nothing like what happened then.”

Kenneth looked solemn. “The most we can do is hope that this War is short and the bloodshed not too heavy. All of them are only mortal after all.”

It would be some three hours later before Kenneth would learn differently.

---

Office of the Executor of Aurors
Lumen-Umbra Security Plaza, Vulgo District, Lumen-Umbra
Wednesday the 24th of December 1997
11:31 PM

Gabriel Quigley was a man who bore a heavy burden. Since his appointment as the youngest Executor of the Lumen-Umbra Aurors last spring, he had earned a few locks of silver in his dark blonde hair. As the Executor of the Aurors of the largest Wizarding City in the World, Gabriel was feeling the pressure. With each day that passed, War loomed on the horizon like a thundercloud and he couldn’t afford to make mistakes.

Luckily, his cousin Andrew had introduced him to a Spellcrafter of the highest authority, the Boston-born Ransom Wright. It had been by pure luck that Gabriel had met Ransom. The Master Spellcrafter had Flooed into Lumen-Umbra for the annual Spellcrafter Conference held every third weekend in June. Aunt Jennifer had called and told him rather sternly to keep an eye on Andrew and Gabriel, never one to garner the ire of the Quigley women, had quickly called up Andrew and offered to show him around Lumen-Umbra. Andrew had been more than happy to accept his offer and asked if it would be alright for his friend Ransom to join them, Gabriel had agreed and the rest was history as they say.

Gabriel had been quite surprised when he had met Andrew and Ransom at the Floo Hub. Andrew was exactly as he remembered: a grinning brunette with almost scary amounts of energy. Andrew had, as Aunt Jennifer had said many a time, the energy of a roomful of ten-year olds with a sugar high, trapped indoors because of the weather. Standing next to him had been a very young Wizard with short, honey colored hair and eyes as blue as the ocean on a clear day. Gabriel took them to their hotel and after waiting for them to settle in; they had immediately gone out for dinner.

The conversation had been very varied and quite entertaining, ranging from Quidditch to the latest Spellcrafting theories. Ransom had impressed him greatly with his intelligence and his ability to somehow, rein in a smitten Andrew. Gabriel almost applauded his efforts, quite astounded to know that it was possible to rein in the bundle of energy, known as Andrew Jamison Quigley.

He had been rather disappointed when the two Spellcrafters had left. He seldom had such good company or the time to enjoy it as things had become more chaotic in the weeks after their departure. Then, in November, following the RELIC debacle as the media had dubbed it, Gabriel had been forced into a meeting with other high authority officials. Apparently, insulted by the notion that the American Ministry of Magic was still too traditional, the Minister had declared that it was time to be more progressive.

The RELIC organization had already passed the order for a new type of Security Sentinels to be distributed world-wide, along with the security monitoring device that worked alongside it. Lumen-Umbra would was the first Wizarding City to receive the LARS unit and the CDU. It was at the first briefing explaining the use of the LARS unit and the CDU that Gabriel met Ransom for the second time. Unsurprisingly, the Master Spellcrafter was one of five Wizarding geniuses that had worked on Project: Free Will, as it was called.

So far the new security measures had proved to be among the greatest leaps in Magical Innovation in the last Century. The pressure had eased slightly and Gabriel was looking forward to his first date with Ransom, after the turn of the New Year. Though he had been given orders to be on high alert, there was nothing to worry about. Lumen-Umbra was the most heavily defended Wizarding City on the planet, not even a madman would try to break through their defenses!

The door burst open, Auror Monroe standing in the threshold with a panicked expression. “Sir! Patrolling LARS units in the Sacellum and Heavy Industry districts are under attack by horrible creatures! Also, there has been a Ward-Breech from the Guerrero Museum of Antiquities.”

And just like that, Gabriel felt his stomach fill with dread and all thoughts of Christmas or first dates flew from his mind. “Sound the alarm, get the Flight Squads prepped and have someone Floo the Mayor. I’ll put on my Battle Robes and meet everyone in the Surveillance room in ten minutes.”

While Monroe tore out of the room bellowing orders, Gabriel cursed. Why the Hell had he just challenged the power of ‘worse’?

---

Central Utilities Room
The Guerrero Museum of Antiquities, Lumen-Umbra, Unplottable
Wednesday the 24th of December 1997
11:32 PM

Darting through the hallways, had anyone been present to see him they would have only seen a shadowy blur moving through the museum. Subtlety was not required here which, in retrospect, was probably a good thing, Cyriacus decided as he spotted the large vault-like doors he would need to bypass to ascend to the stairwell. Concentrating slightly, he shifted the scales covering his body into a very thick, very durable scale. Drawing magic to his right foot, he launched himself at the door delivering a magically enhanced spinning kick directly at the center of the door. For a moment nothing happened then there was a screech as the vault door unsealed and fell into the room beyond.

Wasting no time, Cyriacus quickly shot through the open doorway and after dropping into a crouch, shot upward through the rectangular stairwell. Counting the number of levels he passed, he finally stopped once he reached the fifth level. Focusing his attention to the claws on his hands, he extended them a few inches more as well as making them sharper. Moving on, he cut his way through the glass doors leading into the Medieval Mysteries Exhibit.

Unlike his previous rush through the museum, he used extreme caution when he entered the room, looking for signs of the LARS he knew would have been deployed and nearly reached his position by now. Shifting to the side of the doorway, Cyriacus melted into the shadows as he carefully Shadow Stalked from shadow to shadow, closer to his target.

With some trepidation he passed through the initial exhibit which displayed catapults and ballistae, suits of armor, stone statues that could be animated to protect castle courtyards and barbicans and numerous kinds of traps, some which were directed towards use against Muggles and others which were very clearly for use against other Wizards and Witches. It was just as he was passing by a cluster of very solemn faced stone guardians that something sprang at him. Tackled by the heavy weight, Cyriacus twisted as they fell and managed to shift them so he was on top as they rolled on the ground.

Once they came to a halt, he sprang backward having already learned in the short grapple that his attacker was a LARS. As a delighted grin crossed his face, the tarnished silver mask he wore on his face pressed against the edge of his mouth. Looking into the crystalline eyes of the LARS gargoyle Cyriacus gleefully recited the deactivation code phrase and watched with amusement as the once bright eyes, which had been recording and broadcasting his movements to the CDUs keyed to Lumen-Umbra’s security station, dulled and flickered out.

Laughing softly, he continued on his way. It was so nice to have friends in high and low places.

---

The Kitchen
Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London, UK
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
5:35 AM

War was an ugly terrible thing, Dumbledore knew from experience. In his lifetime, he had seen three horrible Wars. The first was Gatti’s War in 1880’s, then there was Grindelwald’s War in the 1940’s and Voldemort’s First War in the 1970’s and now Voldemort’s Second War. Each following War had been even more great and terrible as the one preceding it. Every War meant more bloodshed, more death and more misery.

As terrifying as Voldemort’s First War had been, Dumbledore feared and rightly so that his Second War would be even more terrible. Voldemort had shown the Wizarding World the terrifying and monstrous powers of a trained Necromancer, along with making an example of the Death Eater Spy Davies. The mysterious Prince of Dragons had used Blood Magic to a most nightmarish degree. Roger Davies parents would never have peace of mind, not knowing that their son’s body had been desecrated. And with the heart still missing, there was no telling what nefarious purpose it might have been used for.

The Wizarding World was rightly afraid, this War promised to showcase Arts long thought dead and forgotten. Barely any Wizarding Schools taught the Dark Arts or the Dark Professions. As far as Dumbledore had been able to find out, only four schools taught Dark Arts or Professions: the Arcanum Institute of Magic, the Durmstrang Institute, the Neo Semita Academia and the Akar-Ylssr Seminary. Of those three, only Arcanum taught Necromancy. This meant that the Heir of Blaze Hawthorne either graduated from Arcanum or was taught by an Alumnus.

Unfortunately, Arcanum had a reputation for being isolationists. They did not care what occurred outside their borders and did not answer to any Ministry or Organization. Arcanum horded their secrets with an unbelievable fanaticism and no one but newly accepted students had ever entered the school. All those who taught at Arcanum were Alumni and very few who accepted teaching positions were seen again. There could be no doubt however, that Arcanum produced the most powerful and talented Wizards and Witches.

Dumbledore found himself in quite the predicament. How could he gain any information on the Heir of Blaze Hawthorne if he could not gain the cooperation of the Arcanum Headmaster? Cyriacus had already been questioned and he had disappointingly stated that those selected to be trained in Magical Professions were sworn to secrecy. Thus no student knew what classes their fellows were taking, unless they were the standard shared courses. The only piece of knowledge Cyriacus had been able to offer was the fact that Voldemort’s pet Necromancer had to be somewhere around his father’s age, as it took years to gain the necessary amount of skill and experience. Until he could establish a cordial, working relationship with Arcanum’s Headmaster figuring out who the Heir of Blaze Hawthorne was, would be a mystery that he could not begin to solve.

It was the mysterious Prince of Dragons that had the collective Light Alliance most worried. While the Necromancer was a definite threat, he or she at least, was a known threat. The faceless malevolence of the unknown Blood Magician calling himself the Prince of Dragons had all the high-ranking officials worried. The search for the Prince of Dragons had the greatest number of personnel from the Light Alliance working to narrow down the suspects.

Letters were sent to the four known schools to teach Blood Magic and the replies were very…different. Arcanum had, as expected, politely told them to mind their own business, they taught the Arts and it was up to the students to decide what to do with them. Durmstrang’s new Headmistress had been much more forthcoming, sending a list of students who had taken and completed the Blood Magic curriculum, unfortunately it was a list of three. The Headmaster of the Neo Semita Academia had curtly, and with much exasperation, informed them that they had stopped teaching Blood Magic two hundred years ago. All letters sent to Akar-Ylssr went undelivered, though Dumbledore privately thought it would have mattered little if they had been received. If Arcanum was an isolationist school, Akar-Ylssr was a traditionalist school to the core. Though it had not been confirmed, it was rumored that they never taught any but those who had direct ancestors who had attended the school.

As Dumbledore had already surmised, until they could gather more clues, the hunt for the elusive Prince of Dragons was likely not to get very far.

Aside from the hunt for the Heir of Blaze Hawthorne, and the mysterious Prince of Dragons, most of the recent gatherings had focused on the very likely possibility of a crushing Attack slated for either Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve or possibly, both dates. Tensions were extremely high, as no spies from any Alliance groups had reported any definite plans for either date. Severus, the only Inner Circle spy, had little more to report than the other spies. There was an Attack scheduled but no one knew when, where or who would be involved.

The entire Wizarding World was waiting anxiously, each not sure where or when the attack would come. Aurors and Hit Wizards stood watch, waiting for news and the Order had assembled, passing the hours in idle chit chat.

Dumbledore sat at the end of the table, looking over the papers scattered in front of him, attempting to narrow down the possible uses of Davie’s missing heart. Around him, the other Order members waited, some more tense than others. At the opposite end of the table, Sirius and Remus sat close together, talking softly as they looked over a piece of parchment. Bill, Charlie, Tonks and Shacklebolt were sitting at the middle of the table, exchanging tips on Dueling while several older members stood off to the side, exchanging war stories. Molly Weasley walked in, having returned from checking on the Junior Order, as Ms. Granger had called them.

Sighing, Dumbledore finished writing down another possible use of a human heart and was just about to grab a new scroll, when the fireplace flared to life. Amelia Bones appeared in the fireplace, looking extremely worried, lips pinched.

“Dumbledore, we’ve received communications from the Defense League! Lumen-Umbra reports an attack by Summoned creatures in two of its districts at exactly 11:30 p.m. GMT -0600 and there was a Ward-Breech at the Guerrero Museum about 2 minutes after. I received the security clearance codes to access the Lumen-Umbra Surveillance Grid.”

Dumbledore quickly found an unused scroll. “I’m ready.”

“Rho, Tau, Alpha and Eta.”

“Thank you. What are we to do?”

Amelia shook her head. “The Ministry has been told to wait for a formal request for aid by the American Ministry of Magic. You, however, can do as you want. Be warned, however, that the wards around Lumen-Umbra extend fifteen miles outside of the city limits.”

“Understood, we will talk again soon.” Dumbledore replied as he got up, heading into the basement with the rest of the Order at his heels.

---

The Strategy Room
Riddle Mansion, Little Hangleton UK
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
5:37 AM

The room was filled with people as Inner Circle members; their offspring and the occasional Primordial sat and stared at the multi-paned glowing images being projected through the CDUs. At midnight, Scourge had appeared, bearing a message from Cyriacus stating the time the Christmas Attack would occur. The Vampire, however, had been under strict orders not to say where the Attack would take place until two minutes prior to the launch of the Attack to prevent any information being leaked. Voldemort found his former lover’s caution to be absurd, especially since the Necromancer had taken it upon himself to take the remaining Defense league spies under his custody several weeks before.

A low murmur filled the room, as everyone stared at the images being sent.

Lucius shook his head, face awed. “Severus…I don’t know whether I’m impressed at his audacity or shocked by it!”

“If he survives the War pulling ambitious stunts like this, I’d settle on being impressed.” Severus muttered darkly.

Valerius laughed. “Cyriacus is bloody crazy alright! That’s Lumen-Umbra he’s Attacking, is he insane or what?!”

“Cyriacus does what no one else can,” Blaise commented, lips twitching with amusement. “And he makes it look easy.”

“Always daring,” Voldemort murmured eyes fixed on the column of images coming from LARS units at the Guerrero Museum.

---

Office of the Executor of Aurors
Lumen-Umbra Security Plaza, Vulgo District, Lumen-Umbra
Wednesday the 24th of December 1997
11:40 PM

The Surveillance Room was utter chaos as Gabriel discovered upon walking into the huge, thirty by forty foot room. Technicians raced too and fro, filtering the images to the best quality or directing LARS units to the troubled districts. Around them, Aurors were standing, staring at the images the CDUs were displaying and discussing the best possible maneuvers to deploy. Apprehension and fear were prevalent in the room, people were worried and as Gabriel studied the column of images coming from the districts under attack, he understood why.

Huge, unearthly monsters rampaged, sowing destruction and chaos. Those unnatural creatures were not of this world, which he knew from the short briefing following the Samhain Attack across Europe. Those were Summoned Creatures that only Voldemort’s pet Necromancer could have brought into being in their world. Since Samhain it had not been abnormal to see such creatures take to the field but what worried Gabriel was the sheer number active tonight. The largest number of Summoned creatures seen had been during the Samhain Attack and without a doubt, the numbers seen tonight could only herald that Lumen-Umbra was the selected target.

“Officers, report!”

Technician Michaela Daniels hurriedly approached. “Sir, we are receiving reports of heavy damage where the abominations are attacking! So far sixteen Auror patrolmen and eight LARS units have been confirmed casualties to the fighting. The LARS units sent to investigate the disturbance at the Guerrero Museum have sent back clear images. There is at least one intruder in the building and they had access to the deactivation codes of our LARS units. At the moment Spellcrafter Miyazawa is attempting to load a new deactivation code.”

“Sir! We have received word from the Ministry that the reinforcements that were deployed are unable to enter the city! Apparently a large Ward was raised over the City which prevents Apparition and Portkey use. The Floo Network has been completely blocked. Until the Wards are broken, no reinforcements can enter nor can civilians be evacuated out of the city.” Auror Lombardi reported.

“Damn!” Gabriel cursed, thinking quickly. “Lombardi, I want twenty Auror Squadrons deployed immediately to all sites under attack! I also want eight Hit Wizard Squadrons deployed to cover the entrances and roof of the Guerrero Museum as soon as possible. Where the hell is Abrams? I need a message aired immediately on the Wizarding Wireless alerting all citizens to take shelter immediately and stay indoors until told otherwise!”

Auror Rousse volunteered to brave the streets to alert the Wireless broadcasters and Gabriel wondered morbidly, if anyone would see the petite woman alive after this night.

Ten minutes later, just as the Auror Squadrons were just about ready to leave the building by broom, explosions rocked the building. It seems the War had come directly to their doorstep.

---

Medieval Magical Artifact Exhibit, 5th Floor
The Guerrero Museum of Antiquities, Lumen-Umbra, Unplottable
Wednesday the 24th of December 1997
11:45 PM

Cyriacus moved as quickly and stealthily as possible through the exhibit, deactivating any LARS units that got within ten feet of him. Having successfully passed through the two rooms devoted to Magical Weaponry and Defenses, he was now entering the first of four rooms dedicated to mysterious Magical Artifacts. Passing by strange crystal covered chests and bizarre totems made of warped metals, Cyriacus spotted one of the items he had come for.

It sat regally on a beautiful pedestal made of shining black marble. The Stormsinger’s Mask was a headdress made entirely out of intricately detailed silver and gemstones. When worn, the mask completely covered the wearer’s face. The mask itself was human in appearance, looking like an amazing mold of a human face. What set it apart from regular masks of that era was the exotic face framing blue-green Occamy feathers and the elaborate strands of obsidian, sapphire and emerald beads that created an opulent mane of decorative hair that completely covered the head of the wearer. It had been found by Muggle Crusaders in the late 1200’s and was confiscated upon being brought to England.

None of the Wizarding Scholars who had studied it had ever discovered what it was used for or who it had belonged to originally. Cyriacus was not surprised in the least. Necromancer Masks of this like had been long abandoned as a hazard. They were not only dangerous to wear while performing Summoning Rituals, but were too distinct and had led to the death of several Necromancers by covens of Light Wizards.

Under normal circumstances, Cyriacus would probably have gone through legitimate channels to have the mask returned to him but that would reveal his heritage, a fact that would have to remain secret until full War broke out. Also, if the mask hadn’t had such enticing enchantments, he would have likely crafted his own but it was one of a kind. Extending a little extra additional effort to reclaim it would hardly lead to his doom and Cyriacus did relish a challenge now and then. Before approaching, Cyriacus checked for enemies and when he decided it was safe, approached the pedestal.

“Awaken to me, Stormsinger and revel in the tempest we will call down upon this world.” Cyriacus murmured before carefully lifting the headdress up with one hand while opening the Moke skin bag at his waist with the other. He Wordlessly activated the Protection Charms on the Mask before stowing it into the bag and pulling the drawstring neck shut.

The first part of his mission complete, Cyriacus checked again for enemies before darting into the nearby shadow and stealthily continuing on his way through the exhibit.

---

The Inner Sanctum
Arcanum Institute of Magic, Unknown, Unplottable
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
11:50 AM

The cavernous room was as silent as a mausoleum despite the fact that it was filled with over a thousand Wizards and Witches.

For all Arcanum Alumni, this room was the one where they had been given Choice and purpose. It was here that they saw the truth and it was here that they pledged their lives to fulfilling that truth. This room was a place of hope for the future.

Dug miles beneath the surface of the Isle of Shadows, it was the safe haven of all Arcanum Alumni. It was carved out of the gray and blue speckled stone that lay beneath the Isle’s surface. The room was square each side a hundred and twenty feet long. Round pillars along the sides of the room held up the roof which towered some forty feet above them. It was a well lit room, crystal chandeliers hanging from silver hooks embedded into the pillars. A large pillar stood in the center of the room, chandeliers hanging from its massive summit and at its base was an upraised circular dais.

For this gathering, beautiful black and silver banners hung from the pillars all displaying the Arcanum seal which was an outline of the Isle of shadows with a set of gates overlaying it. House elves walked around the room, carrying trays of drinks and snacks. The guests, all Alumni, sat in armchairs which had been arranged in orderly rows facing the central pillar. No one spoke, only the soft sounds of idle shifting and the clinks of tea cups and glasses sounded in the room.

All eyes stared at the floating image surrounding the central pillar, allowing them to see Cyriacus’s every move. It was a modified Monstro Charm, allowing the viewer to see a third person view some twelve feet around the person who had been bespelled. It was one of Arcanum’s greatest spells and it was with Morgan’s permission that Ransom Wright had used it as a base when he and his allies had constructed the Live Action Recording Sentinels and the Crystal Display Units.

Morgan, dressed in a flowing white gown, paced restlessly along the pillar dais. She was the most informed about Cyriacus’s plans and thus, was the most concerned about what he was doing. In a way, this Attack was not only audacious; it was near suicide in some ways. While she did not quite grasp all the mechanics behind his ancestor’s Avatar Projection Charm, what she did understand caused her a great deal of worry.

Cyriacus was brilliant without a doubt and powerful, that was undisputable. Recently however, she had to wonder what exactly he was thinking. It was true that he was untried as a Necromancer but to attack Lumen-Umbra merely to reclaim two Heirlooms? She had no aptitude for Necromancy but she understood the theory behind that particular branch of magic and could not fathom what exactly he needed those items for.

No one knew what the Stormsinger’s Mask was capable of. All the fools who had tried it on had died in various excruciating ways, leading many scholars to believe the mask was Blood Cursed, allowing only users of a certain bloodline to wield it. As for the Book of Omens, it was a bizarre tome filled with Prophetic riddles written over two thousand years ago. Even the best scholars and cryptologists hadn’t been able to understand the riddles and had long ago given up studying it. How could either item be useful?

“My Lady?”

Morgan nearly jumped from surprise, she had been so engrossed in her thoughts that Celestin had been able to sneak up on her. “Yes?”

“We’ve received word from Matilda; they have arrived safely and are waiting for their signal. Our Monitor Charms also indicate that the golem impersonating Arianne Rousse has received a killing blow. Xerxes Kyritsis and his team report that their mission is a success. Anyone attempting to Floo to the nearest Wizarding towns by Lumen-Umbra will be randomly re-directed to a different location as planned. So far all attempts to break through the barrier they erected at the Floo Access Terminal have failed.”

Morgan nodded. “That is excellent news. Have you any word from our Golem operatives in Lumen-Umbra?”

“They are ready and awaiting orders.”

“And our spies among the enemy?”

Celestin looked amused. “They report chaos, my Lady. As we expected, the American Ministry is in an utter panic and aid from allied Ministries are arriving in droves. Our spies’ report that the Defense League has yet to arrive but the Order of the Phoenix was seen in transit at one of the International Floo Hubs. Ransom Wright reports that as of five minutes ago over twenty five CDUs given to Ministries or affiliated defensive organizations outside the Unites States have been given Lumen-Umbra’s access codes.”

“Very well, all is going according to plan. Keep me alerted.”

---

The Roof
The Guerrero Museum of Antiquities, Lumen-Umbra, Unplottable
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
12:02 AM

Stephen Marlowe, along with his two partners, Alison Durham and Edward Irving had the unfortunate honor of being the Hit Wizard team assigned to engage the intruder, should he decide to make his escape from the roof. Privately, the three had agreed that it was the most likely possibility as the intruder had been making their way up through the building. It would waste too much time to travel back below to make his escape when he was only a mere three stories away from ascending to the roof. Duty bound, the three took up positions facing the roof entrance and waited.

The minutes had ticked by, agonizingly slow but they could not afford to lose their focus. As the first unit to engage the enemy, it was up to them to do as much initial damage as possible so their comrades could successfully capture the intruder. Stephen glanced at his subordinates, Alison was hidden in the shadows of a chimneystack and Edward was wearing an Invisibility cloak, crouched parallel to Alison’s position to the right. As the team leader, he was perched on top of the roof entrance and would be the closest to danger if the intruder decided to make his escape from the roof.

Senses straining, Stephen faintly heard the rough pounding of footsteps coming up the stairs and quickly signaled his subordinates to prepare. Barely a minute passed before the doors burst open, flying outward and a black blur raced out. Colored flares of light lit the air as curses and hexes flew through the air, hitting the blur. The intruder stumbled and then tumbled into a heap on the ground. The three Hit Wizards cautiously approached the fallen target, wands at the ready should another spell be needed.

Stephen’s heart pounded as he moved closer and closer to the threat. Seeing the unmoving body, he relaxed slightly and moved his hand to his throat and activated his Communication Pendant.

“Target has been disabled.” Stephen reported, his voice flat.

There was a moment of silence. Then a voice replied. “Acknowledged, bring the target to HQ. Beware of enemies; there have been reports of at least twenty monstrosities in the area.”

“Acknowledged.”

Glancing up, Stephen was about to give his subordinates their orders to secure the intruder when he saw that Edward’s pendant was glowing red, signaling a report from one of their comrades stationed on the surrounding buildings. Before Edward could activate his Com, a kick sent Stephen flying ten feet into the air and over the side of the building. Alison and Edward saw the threat but were quickly struck down before they could attack.

Cyriacus smirked and stepped around the lifeless bodies. They got exactly what they deserved for letting down their guard. Bending down, he calmly unraveled the Illusion he had wrapped around the LARS unit he had wrenched control of. A quick tug freed his cloak from his decoy and an idle flick of his wing deflected an oncoming Curse. Tossing the cloak over his body, Cyriacus cast a complex series of Invisibility and Disguising charms before heading to the edge of the roof. Pausing to take a look around his surroundings he mockingly waved goodbye to the frustrated Hit Wizards who could not see him and then dived off.

Waiting a few seconds, he snapped his wings open and flew in the direction of Tenebrae. Reaching out with his senses, he issued new orders to his creatures having them begin to attack new locations so that he might make his delivery and escape, unscathed. As he flew, he alertly kept watch around him, absently noting what areas had already been attacked.

It took him some fifteen minutes to cross the outskirts of Tenebrae. Quickly dropping his Invisibility Charm, he wove a new Illusion around himself and once on foot, made his way to the meeting place. They were meeting in the back garden of a local apothecary who had ties to Arcanum. From his position, it would take another ten minutes to make it to his destination.

When he arrived, he was unsurprised to see Asadyl waiting in the shadows near the back door of the Apothecary. Quickly scanning the garden, Cyriacus quickly made his way over.

Asadyl turned, “It’s about time you made it. You’re fifteen minutes behind schedule.”

“I had to dodge three patrols once I arrived.” Cy quickly unstrapped the belt around his waist and handed it to his ancestor. “Take this back to Scourge, he will know where to take it for safekeeping.”

Asadyl accepted the belt and quickly snapped it around his waist. “I…there’s something you should know…”

Cyriacus shook his head and began opening a Shadow Doorway. “There’s no time tonight. Just go, we’ll talk of it later.”

“It’s about Ascyltus.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But-“

Cyriacus glared as the Doorway stabilized. “I already know. Now get going!”

Asadyl blinked. “How do you-“

“Razul’s Gift,” Cy snapped sharply. “Hurry up and go, I don’t have the time to waste holding this Doorway open!”

Without another word, Asadyl left. Cyriacus waited another minute before closing the Doorway and taking his leave. He waited until he was once again on the borders of Tenebrae and Sacellum before dropping all his Illusions.

Standing in all his dark glory, both as a Necromancer and in his Transformed state, Cyriacus drew his hands together and allowed his magic to pool into an orb. Once it was the size of a soccer ball, he released it in the air and with a flick of his hand, sent it flying in the air heading to the top of the Wards lying over the besieged city. It impacted with a thunderous boom, sending rainbow waves of color along the Wards as they began to disintegrate.

Not wasting time, Cyriacus headed for the nearest sewer entrance and quickly jumped inside, sealing the entrance from within. With nothing more than a mental map of the sewer system, Cyriacus began running through the dank tunnels.

---

The Strategy Room
Riddle Mansion, Little Hangleton UK
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
6:30 AM

Asadyl stepped out of the shadows across from Voldemort.

“Things are proceeding as planned?” The Dark Lord asked, eyeing him.

“He was a bit delayed but things are still following the plan.” Asadyl assured him as he stepped into the light. Scourge walked over to him and Asadyl silently unbuckled the belt at his waist and gave it to him.

Scourge nodded once in acknowledgement before turning to Voldemort. “I will take my leave now. My instructions are to take the items to the location prepared for it. If things continue as planned, the Master will return in two weeks to give you a full report. Should you require speech with him sooner, you may Owl me with a time and meeting place and I shall return.”

Before Voldemort could ask anything more, Scourge had already walked out of the room.

---

The City Limits
Lumen-Umbra, Unplottable
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
12:30 PM

The Order of the Phoenix had arrived bare minutes before the Wards fell. They, like many others they would later learn, had been sent to various Floo destinations all across the United States, before they had finally made it to a location close enough to Lumen-Umbra that they could Apparate to the City limits. While communication was difficult between the reinforcements and the city officials, the Head of the Defense Department had arrived and began to instill order on the reinforcements.

When the Wards fell barely ten minutes after they arrived, everyone was relieved to find that the Communication Pendants were once again, working correctly. After a few minutes of consultation, the Head of Defense began issuing orders and sending help where it would be most needed. Once everyone had their orders the groups moved out, the Head of Defense leading his own special squadron of Hit Wizards to track down the mysterious intruder.

---

The Inner Sanctum
Arcanum Institute of Magic, Unknown, Unplottable
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
12:35 PM

“My Lady, the Wards have fallen.”

Morgan nodded slowly. “Send word to Matilda; tell them to drop it at the location we agreed upon.”

“As you wish,”

---

The Strategy Room
Riddle Mansion, Little Hangleton UK
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
6:37 AM

“I would like to have a word with you…in private.” Asadyl asked, mind racing with possibilities. If he really knew what the Lich had been doing, then he would need this one on his side. Kohinoor had overstepped her limits and if they could not reason with the kyndrak, all was lost.

Voldemort appraised him silently before nodding and leading the other out of the room. They walked down the hall and to the smaller drawing room. Once the door was closed, Voldemort cast several Privacy Charms and then turned to face the Wraith.

“What did you want to talk about?”

Asadyl looked at him directly and then began his story.

---

A Tunnel
Vulgo District, Lumen-Umbra, Unplottable
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
1:00 AM

Cyriacus spared his allies a quick nod of acknowledgement before he began the tedious process of opening and forming a single Doorway and subsequent Hallway directly back to Argyle Tower. Aware of how short on time he was, he expended a great deal more energy than necessary in the first five minutes to quicken how long the process would take over all. Even with that extra boost, it still took almost fifteen minutes before the Doorway and Hallway were completely stabilized.

“Go,” Cy breathed harshly as he held the Doorway open.

The Lichs quickly began entering the Doorway and Cyriacus simply grit his teeth as he gave them enough time to pass through.

---

“Sir! The Dark Arts Detector is reporting a large power source directly under Knoss Street.”

Head of Defense, Peter Lowell frowned. “He’s in the underground tunnels. I want all the tunnel exits guarded and tell everyone that I am authorizing them to use the Unforgivables.”

“Yes Sir!”

---

Amelia Bone’s Office
The Ministry of Magic, London, UK
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
7:08 AM

“Bumbling moron,” Amelia muttered under her breath. Just what kind of moron did they have as a Minister?! Lumen-Umbra, the biggest Wizarding City on the planet, was under attack and he had decided not to send aid! The United States was their ally after all and what in the world was he thinking?!

Her office door burst open, Rufus Scrimgeour stood in the doorway. “Madam Bones, there’s been a security breech at Hogsmeade!”

“Assemble six squads of Aurors, I’ll contact Kimble immediately and we’ll reconvene in the Atrium in ten minutes! Get a move on! I’ll Floo McGonagall at Hogwarts and have her alert the rest of the staff.”

As Amelia moved to her fireplace, she wondered what was going on tonight.

---

The Inner Sanctum
Arcanum Institute of Magic, Unknown, Unplottable
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
1:10 PM

“Matilda reports that the drop off was successful. She and the others have split up as planned and will re-group in Dalhoor in precisely half an hour before proceeding here.”

Morgan sighed with relief. “Very good all things are going according to plan, one can only hope that the rest of the plans initiated today go as smoothly.”

Celestin smiled. “Have no fears, Lady. Cyriacus was always a brilliant strategist.”

“That may be true Celestin but he is not the only one with plots afoot. We may only hope that his are the only ones scheduled to be unleashed this day.” Morgan commented softly, remembering that conversation she had had with her Grandmother.

---

A Tunnel
Vulgo District, Lumen-Umbra, Unplottable
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
1:27 AM

Cyriacus closed the Doorway the moment he felt the Lichs reach their destination. Now that his accomplices had made it out safely, all that was left was to make his own escape. Taking a few moments to recover, he reached out with his Necromantic senses to count how many of his original Summons remained. Much like he had expected, their numbers had dwindled once the Wards had fallen and the outside help had begun to secure the targeted locations.

With a smile, Cyriacus closed his eyes and reached within himself. Slowly he removed a barrier that held back a substantial amount of his magic, allowing the sudden rush of energy to infuse his body with new strength. He had not used too much of his magic during the initial portion of the Attack but he would need as much energy as possible to summon a variety of his Pre-Summon creatures to aid in his escape. For this particular stage, his best choices were to Summon Werecats and Kirin. The former had excellent eyesight and were quite vicious in the use of their formidable claws and fangs while the latter were reptilian fire spitting lizards.

Having made his decision, Cy began Summoning while he plotted out the best way to make his escape. The Regalis District was far to the northwest, his main destination anyway. Ransom had kept him up to date about what detectors the American Ministry of Magic might be deploying so he knew without a doubt that they would be waiting for him at every available Tunnel exit. That meant he couldn’t afford to waste time fighting his way through the patrols that would be waiting for him. So once his Summons were orientated, he quickly gave them their orders and began to backtrack to his original point of entry.

The Tunnels that ran under Lumen-Umbra were extensive and very deep below the city itself. As he recalled, they had been dug mainly as a way to allow mass evacuation. Later on, new ways of travel had been created and the Tunnels had been forgotten by all but the Ministry employed city architects. One of his fellow Alumni had supplied him with the maps, just as others had supplied him with other bits of valuable information. Put altogether, Cyriacus knew the city better than any other aside from maybe the Mayor or whoever was in charge of security.

Cyriacus came to an immediate stop some thirty minutes later. He was certain that he was now deep below the Artifex District. Reaching out again, he checked on his new Summons and once he was certain they were all in place, gave them the order to attack. Giving them a five minute head start, Cyriacus turned his attention to the tunnel wall to his right. Splaying his hands out in front of him, he began to draw out his Chaos Magic. It was time to show his enemies just what they would be facing when full War broke out in a few months.

---

Hogsmeade, Scotland
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
7:30 AM

By the time Amelia Bones arrived on site at Hogsmeade, she was relieved to see that whatever had occurred was not going to cause anyone any immediate danger. To her utter frustration it had taken twenty minutes to gather her Aurors and Kimble’s Hit Wizards. It was fortunate indeed that whatever had triggered the security breech at Hogsmeade was not a visible threat. McGonagall was present with four other Professors and was likewise waiting with the Auror Captain in charge of Hogsmeade’s defenses.

“Auror Ellsworth, please make your report.”

Ellsworth, a tall grim faced man with shaggy dark hair, saluted her smartly and then began speaking. “I had the men out patrolling as usual when the alarm sounded. As ordered, my assistant immediately Flooed the Auror Headquarters to report the security breech. In the meantime, I contacted those out on patrol to begin scouting for the source of the security breech. About twenty minutes ago we found what we think caused the security breech. Madam…you must see this with your own eyes, I can hardly believe it myself.”

Amelia, knowing that Ellsworth was the epitome of ‘calm and collected’ nodded quickly and followed him as he led the way. They walked down the main street of Hogsmeade and right between the border line where the shops ended and the residential homes began, was…a crystal formation. The closer they approached, the sooner Amelia realized that this was not just any ordinary formation of crystal. It was a Prophecy Crystal.

When they got within twenty feet of it, she stopped in her tracks. Powerful magic drifted in lazy ripples from the Prophecy Crystal. The Prophecy was not only active, it had been given by someone truly Gifted in the art of Prophecy. Moving forward cautiously, Amelia crept forward examining the stone. The closer she got, the more she felt the power of the Stone and as she confirmed that this was no ordinary Prophecy Crystal.

The words carved on the ten foot crystal were glowing. Behind her, McGonagall gasped softly as her eyes fell upon the words written in blazing crimson script.

Peace shall be broken with the death of the King
Strife and death shall sweep the land.
Refuge in the spell’s mirror
Blinds eyes of foe and allies make hidden.
Forgotten to all but few
Danger looms on distant horizon.

To arms shall brothers slay brothers
To bed shall daughter and son lay.
Ally and foe both blind
The sands of time shall wear
Thin shall mirror’s spell become.

Salvation only in rebirth
Hope lies in one who Death calls Ruin.
Son of three, Heir of four
Betrayed and betrayer
Love and beloved of his foe.

Destruction to those who oppose him,
Mercy given to none
Save those named friend and ally.
Black spires will climb spearing the heavens
Darkness shall pass into darkness and blood will pave the streets
Long may he reign,
The Prince of Dragons.

“Oh my…” Amelia breathed, horrified.

Ellsworth laughed, his tenor voice edged with hysteria. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Ma’am. Wait until you see the back of the crystal.”

With trepidation, Amelia steeled her nerves as she slowly edged around the front of the crystal. On the back, near the base of the crystal was an inscription written by the Seer who had given the Prophecy. Her breath caught as she read the short inscription (1):

Bona fide.

By the hand of Merlin,
Known as the Lightbringer.

On this, the longest night of the year.

Suum cuique.

Vivat crescat floreat.

Shock did not even begin to describe what she was feeling.

Everyone knew that only one Prophecy had ever been given on the night of the Summer Solstice. Merlin’s Last Prophecy. And it was that Prophecy which had been only one to ever disappear.

What was lost now was found.

And the news it bore was ominous.

---

Valencia Court
Artifex District, Lumen-Umbra, Unplottable
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
2:07 AM

The ground shook violently. A mixture of molten rock, cobblestone and dirt flew through the air, pelting the surrounding buildings with a disastrous hail of destruction.

A black blur shot out of the ten foot wide tunnel.

Landing on a nearby pile of rubble, Cyriacus quickly looked around and finding no enemies quickly strode over to the nearest building and began climbing.

---

Justice Boulevard
Vulgo District, Lumen-Umbra, Unplottable
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
2:10 AM

Gabriel Quigley and Peter Lowell were both having one of the worst nights of their lives. This Attack, which had already destroyed more than five city blocks of Lumen-Umbra and damaged at least twenty other city blocks, was an unbelievable coup for the enemy. Until this night, both men and the vast majority of the Wizarding World would have said such an Attack would be impossible on a city as large and as heavily protected.

But someone had done the unthinkable.

The two Wizards, both in charge of security, one in charge of the besieged city and the other the one who had overseen the new security arrangements, were angry. Partly at themselves and partly at the one who had so easily broken through defenses that over two dozen experts had claimed were insurmountable.

They had failed to protect the city.

They had failed to protect its inhabitants.

And somewhere in Lumen-Umbra, the person responsible for all the damage, all the bloodshed, was still undetected.

And both men would not rest until that person was brought to justice.

Already they were on the move to the Artifex District, where a large disturbance had been reported. No abominations had been sighted which could only mean that those that had emerged from the underground Tunnels had been nothing more than a distraction. Whoever was behind this Attack was attempting to make their escape unnoticed and was not above sowing even more destruction in order to leave. Lives had no meaning to this corrupt Dark Wizard.

Dead or Alive they would capture this menace to the Wizarding World. They could not afford to do any less.

---

Artifex District, Lumen-Umbra, Unplottable
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
2:14 AM

Things were going smoothly…too smoothly in fact. Some might call him paranoid but in between swooping from building to building, he had the damnedest feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong. His instincts, however, were never wrong.

So he wasn’t terribly surprised when the Artifex District LARS units caught up to him. It also didn’t surprise him that they did not fall to the ground when he said the deactivation phrase. Cyriacus wasn’t worried, he had been prepared for this eventuality and with little ado simply blasted the LARS units with compressed orbs of Chaos Magic.

Of course, the downside to using said orbs was the rather thunderous BOOM that occurred when they struck the LARS units. And, Cyriacus mused to himself, the flying shrapnel which consisted of bits of clay, crystal and a nasty array of broken Charms which fluttered through the air in a wispy multi-colored cloud. He was careful to erect the strongest Shielding Charm he knew to avoid the latter after seeing what it was doing to the surroundings. There was something disturbing about seeing a stray cat turned inside out and well…it still being alive and moving. It was like something you’d see in a Muggle horror story and nothing that Cyriacus had ever done or wanted to do.

Once he had destroyed the last LARS and disposed of the odd…creations the stray charms had inadvertently brought to life, Cyriacus wisely left the area. So far he had managed to cross half a city block before being intercepted and he had another one to go before he would officially be out of the district. Then it was another three and a half blocks before he got to his destination in Regalis and his ticket out of the city. If all things went according to plan, that is.

Maybe he was being paranoid but he could have sworn that his body was beginning to tire. His reaction time was just the slightest bit off based on the bleeding gash on his right cheek. But there was no other choice but to continue and so he jumped off the roof of a four story building and began to jog down the narrow alley. He would stay low to the ground until he was certain he was far enough away from any possible interceptors before taking to the air again. Although he had mastered flying two weeks ago, he had learned to his dismay that he was not proficient enough to avoid spells shot into the air.

---

The Strategy Room
Riddle Mansion, Little Hangleton UK
Thursday the 25th of December 1997
8:20 AM

Voldemort was furious, though he hid it well.

That creature had no right to interfere in their lives! Such audacity was unthinkable! Did she not value what remained of her life? Voldemort did not trust the Primordials, with good reason, but even he had to agree with Asadyl in this matter. It was suicide to play such games with Cyriacus, he was merciless to his enemies and the graver the error or offense to him, the harsher the punishment.

Even during their relationship, Voldemort had not dared to deny his lover whatever he wanted, within reason. He understood best what lay beneath the exterior of his lover and even he would not dare to awaken that sleeping monster. The spies he had given to Cyriacus weeks ago had simply vanished without a trace and Voldemort had no interest to learn where they had gone. All had served their purpose and paid for their treachery.

On the other hand, Voldemort disagreed with Asadyl on the matter of that treacherous Chylla, Kohinoor. He didn’t care what Cyriacus did to her and in fact, he would be more than happy to assist his lover should he desire the help. She had already done her part, Cyriacus was born after all and now her interference was most unwelcome.

Cyriacus was his and had been from the moment of his birth. Voldemort would not share him with anyone and if he could not convince Cyriacus of her treachery, he may never get the younger Wizard back! While under the influence of her skillful manipulation, he had said things that had no doubt infuriated and distanced his lover. It was fortunate that Asadyl had managed to free him of her influence and better still that the Wraith had told him what had gone so horribly wrong between the two of them.

Voldemort did not just want Cyriacus back, he needed the younger Wizard. The weeks without Cyriacus at his side had shown him just how empty and tedious the path he had chosen was without having someone at his side. Victory would be his, but it would be hollow without Cyriacus next to him.

Impatient, all he could do was simmer in his own rage and plot ways to get his lover back.

To Be Continued in Chapter XXVII: Resolution III…

---

Notes:

(1)- Translated roughly the inscription reads:

In good faith,

By the hand of Merlin,
Known as the Lightbringer.

On this the longest night of the year. (the summer solstice so June 21st)

To each what they deserve. (This statement refers to whatever choice is made by the people who are alive when this Prophecy becomes active.)

May it live, grow and flourish. (The traditional ending statement given on all Prophecies.)


FINAL CHAPTER: A plethora of Flashbacks- Wherein we learn when Ascyltus and Kohinoor teamed up, what Cy knows of Ascyltus’s betrayal and why Cy chose to leave Voldie in the dark. Along with Action- Quigley and Lowell meet their enemy, Cy’s plans go astray and the Wizarding World learns an unsettling truth!

At this point, only the reviews and my own determination are keeping my Muses under control. If I get enough reviews, I might even manage to do a flashback of the smut I rainchecked out on a few chapters back. Cy/Voldie in exotic Morocco…who doesn’t want to see that?

Thank you for reading, please remember to review!

-SheWolfe7 (Sept 1, 2006)