Harry entered the spotless kitchen of Grimmauld Place and handed off his Invisibility Cloak to Kreacher. He glanced around to see if anyone else was home. Mrs. Black was both an effective alarm system and doorbell. There was no need for anyone to announce themselves.

Sure enough, Ron walked in from the living room. His hair was damp, face tinged pink from a hot shower.

"Hermione and Naruto still training?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded as he vigorously rubbed a towel through his hair. "My clone dispelled 'bout a half hour ago. Yours?"

"Mulciber left the Ministry after only being there for two hours. Naruto decided to trail him to see if it was for anything important." Harry was equal parts hoping it was and wasn't a matter of interest. They'd been gathering intel for the past month and he was itching to do something. However, what they needed to do could land them in jail or worse. A month didn't seem like much with that in mind. "How was target practice?" he asked.

Ron shrugged and let the towel rest around his neck. "Hit toadface right between the eyes. Twice," Ron said, with a forced casualness that told Harry he'd been desperate to let someone know.

Harry grinned. Despite Lupin's assurances, Ron still worried about his family. If he was left alone with his thoughts for too long he'd start pacing and muttering under his breath. The rest of them quickly learned to keep Ron occupied. His sour mood was infectious. "Careful," Harry said, "get too much better and Naruto will be out of a job."

"Blimey I wish," Ron said. "Can't throw more than one shuriken at a time. Keep nicking myself on the sides." He held up his hands, fingers splayed to better show the bandages wrapped around them. "Naruto can throw four of them in each hand at once!" Ron scowled at his fingers. "No wonder they start training when they're five."

"Guess we're lucky practicing magic doesn't give you scars." If it did, he and Ron would be littered with them. Kreacher walked between them, two bowls of soup and a plate of bread trailing in the air behind him. With a snap of his fingers they settled on one end of the kitchen table without a drop spilled. The other half was covered in parchment, detailing notes and hand-drawn maps from scouting missions. The smell of French onion wafted through the air and Harry's mouth watered. Not only had Kreacher's mood improved since they gave him the locket; his cooking was almost as good as Mrs. Weasley's.

Harry sat down at the table with Ron after a thank you to Kreacher. The Daily Prophet he'd nicked earlier was a heavy, burning weight in his pocket that threatened to spoil his appetite. Ron snatched a slice of bread and began eating his lunch with gusto, which Harry couldn't fault him for. For the past month, Harry found himself hungrier than he'd ever felt in his life.

In order to keep themselves from going mad figuring out how to infiltrate the Ministry, Naruto reinstated the training the three wizards underwent during the Triwizard Tournament, with a few adjustments and additions. To ensure he didn't lose his touch, Naruto used two clones for the majority of the day.

The original Naruto would train somewhere in a secluded part of the world with one of them. Once they Apparated to a location, they'd exercise and spar. When the wizard needed a break, Naruto would practice his jutsu.

One of his clones would then train with someone else at the house, with an emphasis on strength and weapon training for half of the day, and spell lessons for Naruto during the other half. Their targets were leftover paintings that Sirius hated or cut-outs of people from the Daily Prophet. Umbridge was by far everyone's favorite target, so much so that Hermine made several copies and enlarged them to be life sized. A simple Reparo spell ensured they could use them over and over again.

Finally, the second clone would accompany the last person to spy on the Ministry. It wasn't Naruto's favorite (as his clone complained on more than one occasion) but the others were grateful. It provided a desperately need break from the boot-camp regimen of their other two rotations. All were pleased with how fit and physically fit they were now, however. It was easier for them to see how it could get addicting.

"What's up, mate?" Ron asked, mouth full of bread. "You look like you swallowed a dungbomb."

"Feel like it, too," Harry muttered. He wanted to wait until the others arrived, but he might as well show Ron. He pulled out the Daily Prophet and slid it across the table. There was silence for a few moments and Ron's expression morphed into one of horror and disgust.

"Don't tell me . . . that slimy git! What's going to—" Ron's sputtering was interrupted by Mrs. Black's screams.

They waited as the screams were silenced and Hermione's voice drifted in from the hall. "—just being silly."

"No, I mean it!" Naruto said. The two of them came in sight of the doorway, hair tousled and clothes slick with sweat. "You've got a nice punch for a civilian! If only you could channel your magic like Sakura can—"

"Snape is new Hogwarts Headmaster!" Ron waved the paper at them.

"What?!"

Though they appeared sore, Naruto and Hermione rushed to the table to peer at the paper.

"I was hoping McGonagall would take Dumbledore's place," Hermione said, after skimming the article.

Naruto growled. "Sensei said this might happen. I hate that he's always right about these things."

"And there goes our secret." Ron threw his head back and groaned. "As soon as that git sees Gaara and the others he'll let You Know Who know."

"At least Gaara and the others are there to protect the school," Hermione said.

Naruto beamed. "Yeah, they won't let anything bad happen to anyone. I just hope Sakura doesn't destroy the castle in the process." He cringed with a nervous laugh.

Harry stared at the article as the others speculated how Snape would change the school. Blood roared in his ears as he watched Snape's smug half-smile as he stood in the headmaster's office. Snape's emotionless voice as he uttered the curse that killed Dumbledore still echoed in Harry's dreams. To think that he would be parading through Hogwarts like he owned the place, putting Ginny and Harry's friends in danger . . . There was only one thing to do. Harry stood and met everyone's gaze.

"Let's get the locket tomorrow."

Late that night, in a lavish estate guarded by the haughty glares of peacocks, the Death Eaters had gathered.

Alecto stood at attention at the end of the table across from Voldemort. She'd requested an audience, which Voldemort found to be curious. Surely a collection of children shouldn't be too difficult. He'd specifically chosen Severus to handle the school and knew he wouldn't be disappointed.

When the last of his available followers was seated, Voldemort addressed Alecto. "You've only been at Hogwarts for a day, what news could you possibly have that would interest me?"

Alecto bobbed her head down in a hurried form of respect. "M-my Lord, those foreigners from the graveyard three years ago—" She paused as if to give him time to remember them. How could he not? His body ached in memory of the energy that left him writing in agony. "The red-haired one is back," Alecto continued, "and he has two different people with him. They can do similar foreign magic."

The room was deathly silent. Of all the possible things Voldemort thought she'd say, this was the furthest from it. Now that Albus was gone, Voldemort supposed his enemies were incapable of surprising him. It appeared Albus left a stronger impression on the Order than he thought.

Despite the news, Voldemort's pale, taut skin peeled back into a gleeful sneer. "It seems our enemies are more resourceful than I thought. Does the boy still possess that wondrous power?"

Alecto winced and hunched into herself. "I-I, I have no way of knowing, m-my Lord. I don't um, how can I?"

Voldemort closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He stretched his senses, pushing past the familiar magical energies of those around the table. He thought back to the raw, unbridled power he felt before, the ones dripping in blood and terror. Unfortunately, after several minutes of probing he found nothing.

"It appears I'm unable to sense their power as I once was," he said. Perhaps now that he possessed a body of his own his senses weren't as keen as they'd previously been. How unfortunate.

"Should we make plans to capture the boy once more?" Amycus grinned at the thought. "It should be no trouble with the school under our control."

"No, our previous attempt was . . . unsuccessful," Voldemort said. The memory of blinding pain and convulsing like a mad man was still all too fresh. He refused to be ever again be disgraced in such a manner.

However, those foreigners still presented a problem. The adult had been disposed of, but at the cost of some of his follower's lives and only because the man had been severely weakened. Voldemort's followers had increased in the years since, but going after the shinobi would require a legion of wizards and creatures. Loathe he was to admit it, the shinobi were a formidable foe and he wouldn't underestimate them again.

Something had to be done.

Those seated at the table began tossing around ideas but Voldemort tuned them out. This was a problem only he could solve. He didn't silence them though. He needed them to believe they were being useful. That eager drive to impress him was by far the most effective way to ensure their loyalty. That and occasional displays of his power, to remind them he wasn't the type of man to be crossed.

To his delight, his mind latched onto a fleeting memory from his youth. It was one of many ideas he and Albus tossed around in their quest for power. An idea unfolded with ease. It would require some modification surely, but to his great fortune they had just the man. "Fetch me Dr. Shryke and Greyback."

Lucius bowed and left the room.

A few minutes of silence passed as Voldemort turned over the new plan in his mind. If this worked, it would close the gap between his forces and the still mysterious magic these foreigners possessed.

Barely two minutes passed before Lucius returned with the two he summoned. The large, clean-shaven Dr. Leopold Shryke stood out sharply against Greyback's hunched and grizzled form. Shryke wrung his hands at the number of eyes on him but gave a low bow.

"Herr Voldemort," he said, his voice thick with a German accent, "I give my word the experiments progress smoothly, I only need more time—"

"You haven't been brought for a report," Voldemort said, waving him off. "In fact, I thought I would do you the honor of congratulating you myself." He stood up and took a few steps closer. "Your experiments are now top priority. Any materials you require will be given."

Dr. Shryke's jaw dropped for a few seconds as he blinked, clearly dumbfounded. Then his surprise morphed into a sinister glee that told Voldemort he'd made the right choice. "I—thank you, my Lord! My promise you won't be disappointed."

"See that I'm not." His gaze shifted to Greyback. He paused for a moment to consider his words. "Would you like the chance to earn my Mark?"

Greyback's yellow eyes widened while the other room's occupants inhaled sharply. Voldemort knew what they were thinking. The Dark Mark was only to be given to purebloods and the most faithful of his servants. For him to offer it to a werewolf of all creatures? He could feel their furtive, scandalized looks and ignored them.

The werewolf chuckled darkly, his pointed fangs gleaming in the low light. "Oh I would appreciate that very much, your Lordship."

Voldemort nodded. "You will assist Dr. Shryke." He turned back to the scientist. "Use what you must, but I still need him functioning." The room filled with murmurs as his followers whispered among themselves, but this wasn't time for speculations.

"As for the rest of you," Voldemort said, raising his voice to silence them. They obeyed immediately, and Voldemort didn't fight the malicious grin that stretched across his face. "It's time to hunt. Dr. Shryke will need many, many more bodies."

Contrary to popular belief—I'm still alive.

This chapter was far shorter than I wanted, but I needed to give a glimpse into how the stakes have been raised with the enemy. The next chapter will show what happened to those who went back to Hogwarts.

My deepest apologizes and eternal love to those who still enjoy and have faith in this story. YOU are the reason I'm not giving up. Each and every kind word of encouragement has not gone unnoticed or unappreciated. Please be patient with me as I work on recapturing my love for this.

I started NGoF in high school and now have a job and a degree. Today is the 12th anniversary of this fic 'verse, and I wish it were all nicely tied up with a bow, but it's not. I'm human and regrettably have a life to live outside of fanfic writing. This is a hobby and a story I write for myself. I share it because there's at least one person out there who enjoys it as much as I do, and that's reason enough for me. I've endured dark moments of my life because a stranger's fanfic made those days bearable. If my stories can do that for someone else? Worth it.

That being said, I've struggled to continue this story. It's through no fault of yours lovely readers, just a combination of life struggles and terrible timing with nasty reviews. Oftentimes I found myself sick with dread when I saw a review for this 'verse in my inbox. Either I would feel guilty for letting people down, or someone decided they hadn't met their asshole quota for the day. Yeah, I know where I fell short, but I'm not going to sit down and re-write a 200K word story so it's on par with the writing prowess of my adult self.

Anyway, I don't want to end on a bad note, nor do I wish to come across as a spiteful author. This is merely an explanation for why it's taken so long. I owe you that much, dearest readers. I'm immensely grateful to all who've treated me with decency and kindness throughout this journey. As I work on getting back in the groove and fan my flame of excitement for this story, I won't make specific promises, but rest assured—I'll do my best. This fic WILL continue.

Until the next chapter, my darlings.

(reviews will be replied to in due time)