A/N: Yes! Five updates in a year. Gosh, I'm such a dedicated writer. All I can do is apologise to the few of you who enjoy reading this. I wish I had an excuse, but I don't, I've just had other priorities. Anyone still interested in FoV should know that I've got a huge update I plan to upload some point this week. Hopefully.

The Sun Dog
Act 1, Scene 5

The bow screeched out a note of trembling, exquisite agony against the strings. For a moment it hung in the air, unimpeded in the silence that followed, before the rest of the quartet swung abruptly into a fast-flowing tango that spun through the room. The prodigious skill of the players bleeding into every pull and twist of their hands.

It was a pity, thought Tonks as she listened, that the rest of the room found it so easy to ignore the music that gently tugged at her heartstrings. A low murmur of many voices punctuated the tune and aside from the handful of children that giggled and chased each other around the room, the dance floor stood vacant.

The rest of the room, overlooked on three sides by a balcony held aloft by slender, fluted columns, was buzzing with activity. The beautifully polished hardwood floor, luscious red wallpaper and enormous brass chandelier hanging from the ceiling each contributing equally to the opulent surroundings.

The only wall of the room that did not possess a balcony was broken by three enormous panes of glass that ran from the floor to the molded and frescoed ceiling thirty feet above. Outside the window Tonks could just see the tops of the trees in the Ministry garden below, each branch illuminated with a faint blue glow that emanated from the thousands of faeries enchanted to dance upon them.

It was breathtakingly beautiful, but ludicrously expensive.

Reluctantly she turned away from the windows and glanced around the ballroom with disgust. To one side of the room the politicians crowded together, their quiet murmurings and political wheedling providing a low, ominous undertone to the room, like the sound of far-off thunder.

This was the sort of party where all the rich and influential came together in conversation to exchange gold, advice and thinly concealed threats. It was the perfect hunting ground for Tonks, whose livelihood relied on her ability to overhear such conversations but she couldn't help but feel repulsed by the attendees it drew.

It was obscene, she thought as she moved with the utmost grace, how much gold the Ministry had spent on this single, ultimately pointless function, while the war still raged in Asia. She wound herself expertly between tall fluted columns that reached up to the balconies above and round-stomached politicians in their immaculate dress robes. Her eyes desperately raking the room for the one man she sought.

She had long ago abandoned her date, her dress had proven far too enticing for his wandering hands. So she'd quickly excused herself and headed to the bathroom, where she'd changed her face and clothes. She'd spotted him twice in the hour since, a scowl on his face and purpose in his step as he stalked around the room.

In the end, it wasn't him that she eventually spotted mingling amongst the crowd, neither was it the face of the man she pursued. Rather, the eyes that caught her gaze were of a vivid green that bored into hers, as though raking her soul.

Then, from across the ballroom, Harry Potter winked at her.

She made her way over fluidly, her easy footsteps taking her around a collection of Slughorn's politely twittering admirers and to the small pale bar that Harry was leaning against, a glass of amber liquid perched in his fingers.

"A glass of champagne please," she said to the barman, then looked to the dark-haired boy beside her. "Mister Potter."

"Miss Tonks," replied, without taking his eyes off the room. Tonks could smell the alcohol fumes that poured from his mouth in waves.

"The last time I saw you, you were drunk," she said, a mischievous grin spreading on to her face. "I fear from the smell of your breath you may be making a habit of it."

"And the last time I saw you, you were barely walking straight," he replied, a similar smile creeping onto his lips. "I do hope that isn't the case tonight."

"Oh, you never know," she replied with a gentle laugh. "You might get lucky yet."

"I'd need to be the luckiest man alive," he replied. "Especially with you in that dress."

"I'm of the opinion that we make our own luck" she said, her smile becoming wide and genuine.

"So am I," said Harry, finally looking at her, returning the smile and treating her to a saucy wink.

She couldn't help but laugh.

"So which of the saints in this ballroom has brought you here tonight?" asked Harry. "And whose dirty laundry are you hoping to air?"

"Oh I come and go as I wish," replied Tonks, exuding fake nonchalance. "The Minister likes having me around on such occasions. Just in case."

"Just in case there's some scintillating gossip that you can smear across the front page?"

She snorted and looked away from his wickedly grinning face and once again allowing her eyes to drift across the room. When she realized there was still no sign of the man she so desperately sought, she directed her attention back to Harry Potter, who was also in the process of examining the room.

He was handsome, there was no doubt about that, but in a wild, uninterested sort of way. His hair was dark and, despite that he'd clearly made some attempt to tame it, utterly uncontrollable. His eyes, his most exotic feature by far, were probably deep and arresting enough to make girls swoon in flocks. But it was more his detached, aloof attitude that made him so attractive and enticing.

"You insult me," she said, her tone quiet but unmistakably jovial. "I was not aware that I'd fallen so low as to be considered a mere tabloid journalist. Perhaps I'd be better suited to writing for The Lantern?"

"Don't knock The Lantern. Skeeter's article on Ludo Bagman's various nefarious exploits made for fascinating reading this week," said Harry, tamely. "Who'd have guessed that he was once joined in bed by three Harpies?"

"I wasn't aware that anyone actually read The Lantern."

"Oh no, it certainly has an audience," replied Harry, then caught her look. "Bored housewives and their hair dressers. Nosy squibs looking to upset people at a Ministry ball. Those sorts of people."

Tonks nodded sagely, as though he'd imparted something exceptionally wise.

"Ah I see," she said. "And did you find anything more interesting than Ludo Bagman?"

"Oh, I found a great deal of interesting things," he said, then stood up straight, offered his arm to Tonks and gestured with the other, his whiskey sloshing slightly in the glass. "Let's go introduce you to my father."

Tonks considered him with a frown. Not for the first time, she half considered the possibility that Harry was utilizing Legilimency on her. If it weren't for her own formidable employment of Occlumency and that he was, to all appearances, a squib, she'd have realistically considered the possibility.

Yet Harry Potter undoubtedly knew, or guessed, more than he should. For wherever James Potter was, it was likely that he was accompanied by a number of the influential people that seemed to hang off his every word. It seemed as though Harry was offering her exactly what she'd come to the party for: an all-access pass to the upper echelons of the Ministry.

But why he was offering her this, was apparently to remain a mystery.

"Meeting your parents already? Gosh, don't you move fast?" she replied at last, but took his arm regardless. "Lead on."

He drew her across the ballroom and to a large door opposite to the entrance way that was flanked on either side by straight backed Hitwizards. As they grew closer, Tonks noticed Harry's back straighten slightly and an impassive sneer stretch across his face.

"Hello chaps," he said, his voice losing its baser tones and becoming nasal and dismissive. "Is my father still upstairs? I'd like to wish him a Merry Christmas."

"I'm sorry, sir," said one of the Hitwizards. Tonks thought his name might be Fisher. "We're under strict instructions from the Minister that his private party is not to be disturbed."

"Ah, I see," said Harry, his tone and expression cold. "I'm sorry, but do you know who I am?"

"I do sir," replied Fisher, his voice also gaining a hard streak. "Be that as it may, I can't let you pass."

"Take two seconds," said Harry, his sneer becoming more pronounced by the second. "Just to think about this. If you know who I am, you know who my father is. And if you know who my father is, you know that I can make your life exceedingly difficult, if I wish."

The wizard's eyes narrowed. Tonks knew that while James Potter was a high-ranking Auror and technically held no influence over the Hitwizards, he held a lot of sway with Scrimgeour and Bones. Not to mention his close ties with the Minister. Any one of whom could ruin Fisher's career with the scratch of their quill.

Tonks could see from the look in the Hitwizard's eyes that he'd followed the same line of thought. Yet still he hesitated. It was clearly not in his nature to cave to threats or bullying.

"Listen," said Harry, before he could speak. "You know me, Fisher. Or at least you've heard the rumours. I'm a squib, as I'm sure you've heard. Not to mention my friend here, whose pretty face hides a head full of air. So if you think upsetting the squib son of a well connected Auror is worth your pride, go ahead."

Tonks very gently tightened her grip on Harry's arm, her fingernails digging through his robes and into his flesh. But the pair of them managed to keep emotion off their faces while looking at the Hitwizard.

"Alright," relented Fisher, standing aside. His cohort did the same. "Alright you can go through."

Tonks allowed Harry to lead her through the large doors. Beyond them was an equally vast and impressive marble staircase, that stretched up to an enormous balcony that ran above their heads around three walls in the vast room.

However, Tonks wasn't even slightly interested in the architecture; instead, she wheeled on Harry and caught him with a stinging backhand to the face. He reeled backward before catching her eye and winking.

"A pretty face with an empty head?" she hissed, stepping forward to strike at him again.

And though he had the good grace to cower and scuttle away, he began to guffaw with laughter which only infuriated her more. Tonks' next swing missed him by half an inch and she abruptly found herself comically floundering on her high heels before falling into his waiting arms.

He peered down at her, his face still broken with a grin that stretched from ear to ear and she found she just couldn't help herself; she began to laugh as well.

It took them a good few minutes, not to mention more than one harassed looking employee imploring them to move on, for them to calm down enough to make their way up the enormous flight of stairs.

"You know I didn't mean it," he said, as they reached the door at the top of the stairs. He was still rubbing the large, red mark on his cheek.

"I will forgive you, if you never mention it again," she replied coolly, but smiled at him, nonetheless.

They strode through the ornate doors and into what was, Tonks realized, the room where the real politics were being conducted. Whereas the ball room was full to the brim with law makers, this room oozed money, opulence and true power.

A long table neatly bisected the room, stretching perhaps thirty feet from the door and at the head sat the Minister for Magic. All along the table's length, laughing and joking with those around them, were forty of the most influential wizard and witches in the country. Not just those like Amelia Bones, Rufus Scrimgeour and Barty Crouch who wielded immense political power, but also those like Lucius Malfoy. A wizard who held no political seat at all, but weilded as much influence as his enormous coffers could buy.

Almost at once, as the room's occupants noticed the pair enter, every voice paused, mid-conversation and their owners turned to look at the unexpected guests. Tonks had no problem picking out the confused faces of James Potter from the crowd, as the similarity between he and Harry was almost frightening. Sat beside the auror was her own cousin Sirius, whose brow had knotted slightly as he gazed across the room at them.

For a moment she was sure they were about to be ejected. Indeed, the sour faces worn by many of those along the table's length suggested they would be. However, Harry took a short step forward and made a low, sweeping bow directed down the length of table, straight at Minister Riddle.

"Minister," he began, his tone level but with the slightest hints of obsequiousness creeping into his voice. "Forgive the intrusion, I just came to thank my host for an invitation to such a prestigious event."

For a moment of hesitation in which nobody responded and Tonks shifted uncomfortably under Riddle's scrutiny. Then the Minister gave the slightest of smiles and inclined his head gently in Harry's direction, his handsome face lighting up as he considered the young man.

"The pleasure is entirely mine, Mr. Potter," said Riddle. "It is most unusual to meet a young man these days with any manners. I implore you, bring your lovely friend and sit on my right. I dare say that Barty and Mathilda won't resent the intrusion."

From the look that Mr. and Mrs. Crouchy gave Harry as they rose from their seats Tonks suspected that they may well hold it against him. But Harry, for his part, intercepted them as they passed, a huge smile on his face.

"Mr. Crouch," he declared happily, ringing him ecstatically by the hand. "My father's said ever so much about you, it's a pleasure to meet ever such a distinguished wizard."

This seemed to take some, though not quite all, of the venom from their glares and it was with a somewhat placated expression that they took a seat further from the Minister. Harry dropped into the seat that Mathilda Crouch had just left, leaving Tonks to take the seat directly beside Riddle.

She couldn't help but wonder, as she marveled at her proximity to the most powerful man in Britain, just how much thought Harry put into his decisions.

"Minister Riddle," said Harry, leaning across the table to shake his hand just as vigorously as he'd shaken the hand of Barty Crouch. "I trust you've read the fantastic articles of my friend Miss Tonks. She's been almost as keen to meet you as I."

A chill of horror flowed through Tonks' stomach and she turned an incredulous expression upon Harry. Her horror quickly turned to annoyance however, when she caught the grin that Harry gave her. He'd just put her in the perfect position to gather information for her next article and then immediately blown any legitimate cover she might have had. She was certain that there was no way she was getting anything useful out of Riddle now and she fully expected the Minister to call over a guard and have her summarily evicted.

But to her complete astonishment, Riddle began to laugh uproariously, as though Harry had just told a hysterical joke. Harry too was grinning stupidly from ear to ear and Tonks, unsure if she was the butt of their joke, felt heat rise to her cheeks and had to stifle a biting comment that flew to the tip of her tongue.

Luckily, it was Riddle who spoke first. He took Tonks' slender hand in his own massive grasp and shook it in a professional, yet gentle, manner.

"A pleasure, Miss Tonks," he said sincerely, the frivolous expression suddenly replaced by a genuine friendliness she'd never have expected. "I confess I've long wanted to meet you. Especially so after you so expertly skewered me with your quill last year. Unfortunately, I doubt my political or financial backers would have been happy with me giving an exclusive to one of my most influential critics."

"A critic?" asked Tonks, a small smile creeping its way on to her lips. "Perhaps, Minister. But don't mistake it for staunch opposition to your actions. I, like most of the press, fully support the current trend of liberal politics the Ministry has encouraged under your leadership, but one strives to keep perspective. There are still wrongs to be righted after all."

"Something anyone in my staff would agree to," conceded Riddle, with a nod. "A politician's work is never done, Miss Tonks. I hope that should I win the election again in September, I will do even more good work with the next term as I have in the last seven years."

"As do I Minister," said Tonks. "And should you ever wish to provide an interview, hearing your unadulterated words in an exclusive with me could be just the boost your campaign needs."

"I shall certainly bear that in mind—" began Riddle.

"Do you think winning your next election is likely?" interjected Harry, surprising Tonks, who'd almost forgotten he was there. "As far as I understand you built your last campaign on misleading propaganda and unfulfilled promises."

Both Tonks and Riddle turned their attention to Harry, who appeared completely engrossed in neatly demolishing a small cake with a fork. He didn't once look up at the Minister.

"A common enough misconception," replied Riddle, smoothly. Though Tonks thought Harry might have ruffled a few of the Minister's feathers. "I promised my voters an elimination of the so called 'upstart muggleborn politics'. I promised electoral reform that better protected the interest of full blooded witches and wizards. I promised a reduction in crime. I promised educational reform. I also promised economic growth.

"I have fulfilled all of those promises. No longer is the Wizenmagot split by the decisive issue of blood for no longer are the divisions between blood legitimized or recognized. No longer is the electoral process significantly undermined by the illegitimacy of unblooded, or half-blooded wizards and witches, for by my reform, we are all magical and this is all that matters.

I promised a reduction in crime and this too has been achieved. No longer are arcane, anachronistic laws enforced to the detriment of all concern. For the first time in our nation's history is the pursuit of progress supported by the Ministry, rather than forward thinking wizards being actively persecuted for experimentation. Likewise legitimate criminals protected by ancient, ignorant laws are now liable to prosecution—"

"Forgive me Minister," said Harry, interrupting him again. "As you must know, I myself am a squib. I am not criticizing your policies. Seven years ago, I would not have been entitled to legal representation in a court, you passed litigation to change that. What I question is not your politics, but your methods.

"Isn't it true that many of your most fervent supporters turned their back on you after you took office? Do you deny that they were somewhat misled by your vague promises? Do you really think it is possible for you to run a campaign against Bulstrode without the support of the 'Old Money' families?"

Many of the table closest to their end had fallen silent to listen to the conversation. Harry, his face set in stubborn lines, and Riddle, his face a mask of annoyance, were completely oblivious to their audience and instead examined each other intently.

"Those who felt misrepresented by my politics are nothing more than bigoted fossils," snapped Riddle, his eyes flashing. "I have no time for such people and neither do I want or need their money. A vast majority of magical Britain support my reforms and politics and it is this— logic and morals, that will win the day. Not the coffers of relics."

Tonks caught the righteous fury and pure power that rolled off Riddle in waves. It was all she could do to not flee in abject terror. Instead she wrenched her eyes from Riddle and found them fall upon Harry instead. For a split second she thought she could see an expression of intense loathing on his face, but as quickly as she'd spotted it, it was replaced by a broad, face splitting grin.

It almost made her think she'd imagined the steely glint of hatred in the squib's eye.

Almost.

"My apologies Minister," said Harry, his smile lessening to a more appropriate width. "I hope you will forgive my provocation. I was interested to know what it was that drove your relentless progress. I am glad to find we share many of the same views. Your passion is admirable indeed and I hope I didn't offend you too much."

For a minute, everyone seemed to wait with baited breath for the greatest wizard of his generation to respond. Then slowly, Riddle's furious visage ebbed away to the slightest of smiles. A second later he began to rock softly in his chair as a low, genuine chuckle began to escape his lips.

"Bravo, Mr. Potter," he said, when he finally stopped laughing. "You must forgive me for being so easily goaded, it has been too long since I have been challenged. There is no question of forgiveness for there is nothing to forgive. I have been thoroughly out-played this evening."

Try as she might, Tonks couldn't help but suspect that Riddle was not as amused as he was making out. Indeed, as he rose and took both of them once again by the hand, it seemed an almost cursory action, at complete odds with the more familiar and welcoming gesture he'd made before.

"I hope you will not consider me rude if I bid you adieu," said the Minister gruffly. "But I ought to mingle in the main room, if only for a short while."

"Not at all sir," replied Harry and his tone was also frosty. "I'd like to take the opportunity to wish you the best of luck in your upcoming campaign."

"Your support is appreciated Mr. Potter," said Riddle, then turned to Tonks. "Do contact the Under Secretary in the New Year, Miss Tonks. I'd be delighted to discuss my future reforms."

Tonks inclined her head slightly and then the Minister was gone, taking a good number of the table's occupants with him. The moment he had left the room, Tonks rounded on Harry, her expression furious.

"What, in Merlin's name, is wrong with you?" she demanded, waves of vitriol evident in her tone.

"Just checking something," said Harry cryptically and made as though to rise.

He was stopped in his tracks however as a hand descended from above him, grasped his shoulder firmly and rooted him to the seat.

"Harry, my lad," declared Sirius thickly, apparently overjoyed to see him. Tonks was briefly assaulted by the overpowering smell of vodka. "What a pleasant surprise. Didn't expect to see my favorite Godson at a Ministry party. Didn't think you went in for all this."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced by the abrupt arrival of his mother and father, who cooed and fussed over him. Overall, Tonks thought the squib looked very uncomfortable, but after his performance tonight, felt he probably deserved every minute.

Regardless, she wasn't going to get caught up in the awkward family re-union, so she quietly excused herself, rose to her feet and made her way from the room. With any luck she'd run into Riddle in the ballroom and get the answers she wanted for her latest article.

She descended the lavish marble staircase hastily, almost tripping on the last step and followed the Minister's party out through the mahogany doors. She noticed the gazes of the two Hitwizards stationed by the door and shook her hips slightly as she walked, knowing both pairs of eyes were fixed firmly to her behind.

There had to be some perks to their job after all.

Despite her best efforts, she couldn't managed to push her way through the crowd that quickly descended upon the Minister now that he'd exposed himself to the public. A dozen other reporters that Tonks recognized from the Prophet, along with what she suspected was half the wizarding world's press descended upon him.

Riddle, who was equal parts politician and celebrity and was obviously used to the spectacle of two dozen grown witches and wizards yelling questions, calmed them with a few quiet words and his most charming smile.

"I'm terribly sorry," he said, holding his hands up and beaming around. "I've just come out for a nice relaxing evening and to catch up with some old friends. I'll be more than willing to take questions in the press conference after my Yuletide speech. Until then, please excuse me."

This seemed to satisfy the gaggle of reporters and they were hastily escorted from the room by a trio of Hitwizards. Each one of whom looked even less enthused with their duties than Fisher and his cohort had.

She was just about to make a serious attempt to engage the Minister in conversation, when a loud bang echoed through the ballroom. One of the Hitwizards who'd been stationed on the balcony above came hurtling down to crash upon the crowd below, a trail of smoke billowing behind him.

Almost immediately the room descended into screams and hordes of the assembled wizards and witches began to run in every direction. Tonks spun as she caught two flashes of light in her peripheral vision and she just caught sight of two wizards wearing dark masks overpower the Hitwizards she'd just passed.

Instantly they were followed by another handful of flashes to her right as a number of the reporters who'd been questioning Riddle only a second ago drew wands, donned masks and incapacitated the Hitwizards escorting them out. A couple of the more able or brave wizards and witches in the crowd of guests made an attempt at stopping the masked assailants, but found themselves quickly and brutally overpowered.

Indeed, between the scurrying members of the crowd, Tonks could see that the only two people still putting up any resistance were Barty Crouch and Minister Riddle. The two men were fighting back to back and had apparently put paid to several of the masked men— if the bodies around them were anything to go by.

She turned again as another deafening bang reverberated around the room, above the sounds of people panicking and was immediately followed by a booming, magically loudened voice.

"EVERYBODY REMAIN CALM!" it roared, above the tumultuous noise. "THE DOORS ARE LOCKED, THE AURORS ARE DETAINED, WE HAVE HOSTAGES AND WE'RE NOT AFRAID TO KILL THEM!"

Tonks froze. She thought she recognized that voice— It couldn't be—

Her date jumped up on the small stage that the band had occupied earlier, a small girl clasped under one arm and his wand raised high above his head. The platform wasn't particularly tall, but it put him head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd, who stopped panicking quite as much, and turned to face him.

Even Crouch and Riddle stopped fighting at the sign of the little girl being held hostage and a moment later, they were deprived of their wands and shoved to the floor. It was at this moment that Sirius Black and James Potter leapt from the balcony above to engage the intruders. For an instant, Tonks thought that they might well stand a good chance of winning if only by virtue of their sheer ferocity. However the man on the platform, looking completely unperturbed, merely waved his wand at the ceiling.

The enormous chandelier hanging above the ballroom came crashing down on the pair of them. Potter, apparently more aware of his surroundings, leapt aside only to be immediately swamped by the masked men. Black on the other hand was caught completely unaware. A split-second before the Auror was crushed beneath a tonne of glass and brass, something hit him like a thunderbolt and carried him clear.

Harry's face as he climbed to his feet was one of abject fury. An expression like that on the face of any other man would have been terrifying, but instead it froze Tonks' blood with terror. He was a squib— what on earth was he thinking?

Regardless, the dark-haired boy threw himself at the nearest group of masked men, his fists flying. He seemed to land a couple of decent blows too, before sheer weight in numbers and a fair helping of magic restrained him. Even held fast and beaten, he never stopped shaking in apoplectic fury.

Tonks watched as her date stepped down off the stage on to the mostly empty dance floor — most of the guests were now cowering at the perimeters of the room — and crossed the floor to Harry.

"What do we have here?" he asked, his voice dark and malicious. "Potter's squib? I thought you'd done the world a favour and gotten yourself eaten."

The masked men still standing guffawed merrily at this jest and shook the boy roughly.

"Leave him, Mulciber," commanded Minister Riddle, standing again. "It's me you've come for, leave the boy alone."

"I don't know," said Mulciber, his eyes flashing with mirth. "I think the little freak would be better off dead, don't you? Besides, I fancy a little sport before we get down to business."

He lifted his wand and gently grazed the tip against Harry's face. The boy struggled again and snarled. Riddle stepped forward, looking as though he was going to intervene, but one of the masked men met him halfway and caught him a blow to the face that knocked him to the floor.

"Feral little beast, isn't he?" said Mulciber, ignoring Riddle completely in favour of staring at the boy before him. "Perhaps he needs a little reminder of his station in life. Crucio!"

The scream that escaped Tonks' lips was almost as hoarse and pained as the one that burst from Harry's. She found herself flying across the ballroom, wand out and pointed at Mulciber, her footfalls more balanced and ready than they'd ever been in her life. The darkest, nastiest curse she knew fell naturally to her tongue.

"ABHORREO!" she roared.

The bolt of yellow light thundered across the distance between them with a hiss of scorched air. Mulciber reacted instantly, breaking the curse he held on Harry and turning the spell toward the ceiling with a single flick of his wand.

Another simple twist sent Tonks' wand flying through the air toward him, which he caught with his other hand. A third wand motion bowled her to the floor. He walked over lazily, gazing down at the wand in his hand with interest.

"I recognise that scream," he said. "I did wonder where you'd got to tonight Rianne. I assumed you'd fucked someone else already, but a squib? Really?"

He regarded her for a second, his lip curling in disgust, then he turned his back on her and walked back over to Harry. The dark-haired squib hung limply between two masked men, the fight in him extinguished by the cruciatus. With an expression of distaste, Mulciber reached out and lifted the boy's face by his chin, then let it fall back to his chest.

"Something I've always wondered," he began, as though to himself. Abruptly he seized Harry by his shirt and hauled him bodily across the ballroom, dragging him through the broken glass of the chandelier and stopping by the large window that overlooked the courtyard thirty feet below. "Is if squibs can fly like any decent wizard can. Accio broom!"

A broom flew across the room from where it had undoubtedly been hidden and he roughly shoved it against Harry, attaching it to the boy's chest with a sticking charm. Harry moved slightly as the broom stuck fast to him, looking up at Mulciber blearily, as though confused as to why he was there.

Mulciber sneered back and lit the broom on fire with a flick of his wand. The scream that tore from Harry's lips was somehow worse than that when he'd suffered through the cruciatus. With a final last scathing glance at Tonks, Mulciber blew Harry off his feet and the boy, still burning and screaming, flew out of the window and disappeared out of sight.

A scream of abject terror and fury ripped through the ballroom as James Potter, still bound on the floor, watched his son fall.

Mulciber silenced him with a swift kick to the face.

"Right," he said, looking around, his tone suddenly light and jovial. "With all this excitement, I didn't really get to introduce myself. I am Leyland Mulciber and I'm here tonight to represent the interests of a group known as the Knights of Walpurgis.

"You've probably never heard of us before, but rest assured you'll be hearing a lot more of us in the coming weeks."

He paused here and looked around at the sobbing, cowering, terrified people in the room. Each of them gazed back at him, fear plainly written in their eyes. Only Riddle, Crouch and Black met his eyes with defiance.

Tonks knew that nothing like this had happened for decades. She knew that since the defeat of Grindelwald, the majority of these people had lived in times of relative peace and stability. She had some understanding of the matters, having seen the fighting that currently scorched Asia, but knew that open violence with magic was just simply not a way of life for these guests.

"Now to cover some of the question I'm sure you're asking yourselves: 'Why are we here?', 'What do we want?', 'Who is responsible?'

"The answer stands before you," he said, indicating Riddle, who still stood defiantly before him. "That's right, this is all the work of your Minister for Magic. The man we trusted to set the record straight. The man we paid and trusted to represent the views of legitimate wizards. The man who promised us the world and failed to provide.

"I, like my brothers in arms," he indicated the masked men. "Ask for a few simple things; that our world, our future and ultimately, our lives, be managed by those they belong to; wizards. For we are not, as some would say, the same as muggles. We are not, as some would say, the same as mudbloods, sub-humans and lesser species.

"No, we are wizards. It is our blood that will be spilled when the truths of this man's lies are revealed. It is our wives that will be lacking hospital beds. It is our children that will suffer the abhorrences from the pollution of our blood. It is our society that will collapse when none of us have the magical ability to still lift a wand.

"Since the time of the founders and before, we have been a proud, insular people that has seen no need to accept such filth inside our society. So I ask you, why start now? Yet I do not blame you, my friends, for you have been blinded to the threat by a new breed of politician."

He turned again to Riddle and struck him a blow that, while vicious, barely seemed to phase the Minister.

"I name you liar. I name you cheat. I name you heretic, turncoat and false prophet. You, who are more interested in goblin gold than the future of your people. You, who are more interested in votes than the protection of the people you were elected to serve.

"You, who is to blame for what has to occur tonight." He paused and stared at Riddle and the slightest of smirks reached his lips. "I hope your mountains of gold absolve the blood on your hands tonight."

Tonks couldn't help but stare at Mulciber as he turned to the room at large and considered his masked accomplices. She knew his words were madness, she could see the gleam of insanity in his eyes, could practically feel the tension beneath the surface of his skin.

"Kill them," said Mulciber to his accomplices. "Kill them all."

The entire room erupted into screams and flashes of green light as the masked men began to cut their way through the assembled crowd. Finally the terrified witches and wizards were forced into action, but it was far too late. They weren't prepared for anything like this and it seemed as though Mulciber's men were, at the very least, formally trained in the art of dueling.

Tonks watched as those around her began to fall; some to the cold green light of the killing curse. Some to arcing cutting curses that pained the dance floor with blood. She saw Mulciber come toward her, his dark eyes glittering with malice and she saw the terrible things he held in store for her.

And just as he reached her. Just as he lifted his wand and the corners of his lips turned inwards. Just as the world 'crucio' sprang to his mouth. Just as everything was at its darkest, a stunningly bright white light permeated the room, swallowing everything around her. The noises ebbed away too, to be replaced by a dull ringing that made her feel vaguely sick.

By degree, her vision returned and almost immediately she realised that the almighty flash of light had been an enormous explosion, for the doors to the lobby had been blown apart. The highly polished wooden floor was scorched and coated in a fine layer of powdered glass, marble dust and splinters.

And where the doorway had been stood a tall, broad wizard that exuded an odd, flickering blue glow, as though his perfect white robes burned with pale fire. His face, invisible beneath the hood of his robe, panned the room and his entire body was a mass of straining tension and incredible fury.

Around her, others were beginning to come to their senses. Mulciber faster than anyone else.

The pureblood rose, his wand outstretched and hurled a blistering curse in the direction of the intruder, who slapped it away with a curt, dismissive motion. When Mulciber moved to curse him again, the stranger flicked his wand and Mulciber was blown from his feet and sent careening across the room.

Several of the Knights seemed to have regained their faculties and leapt to their master's aid. But the stranger ignored them and the curses coming toward him until a moment before they hit him when he promptly dissolved into dust.

The bolts of light flew harmlessly through the dark cloud left in his wake and through the enormous hole where the door had once been. The Knights of Walpurgis looked around in complete surprise, clearly trying to ascertain where their opponent had gone.

A second later the enormous chandelier sprang to life, rising up on its six brass limbs and, skittering like a vast gleaming insect, came to bear upon the four wizards that had cast the curses. As quick as a flash, the animated creature lashed out in a flurry of flailing legs. Tonks winced as the four wizards gave way to an onslaught of vicious strikes. Though she knew they would have gladly killed everyone in the room, she wouldn't have exactly wished the fate on anyone.

Her gaze turned from the Knights of Walpurgis to the figure that appeared once more in the doorway, his wand raised. Slowly and gracefully he stepped his way across the dance floor while everyone stared dumbly at him and parted to allow him passage, his entire body still glowing blue.

As he approached, Mulciber rose groggily to his feet, his eyes narrowed and wand still firmly in his grip. The Stranger seemed quite unperturbed, though admittedly Tonks still could not see his face. Rather, from the way his fingers ran over the surface of his wand, she thought he was rather relishing the opportunity and merely biding his time to strike. The animated chandelier, having finished with the knights it had attacked, rose up behind him menacingly.

"You have been taught how to duel, Leyland Mulciber?" asked the stranger.

His voice was rich and clear with no trace of accent, inflection or emotion, except for such a faint sound of cruelty that Tonks thought she might have imagined it.

"First we bow," continued the stranger, bowing deeply to his opponent.

Tonks opened her mouth to scream a warning as Mulciber surged forward, a curse already flying from his wand and scorching the air. She needn't have bothered. The stranger glanced up, gave a dismissive flick of his wand and the spell disappeared into thin air.

"That was rude," said the figure, his blue glow flaring up around him, burning brighter and brighter until his entire body was almost painful to behold. "Manners cost nothing, Leyland."

Then they came together in a flurry of spellfire.

Leyland's first curse hit the figure's shield with a peal of thunder, the bright red light fragmenting and flying away in several different directions. Tonks fell to the ground to avoid one that hurtled toward her face and when she looked up again, it was Leyland on the defensive. The stranger was walking calmly forward, making broad motions with his wand that seemed to cast four or five spells at once.

One slash began by sending two bone-breaking curses straight at Mulciber who furiously blocked them. Half-way across the figure's body the wand emitted a stream of black razor beetles that Leyland staggered away from and burned away with a hurried burst of fire. The last part of the motion brought two wolves into existence at the man's heels and they leapt at Mulciber, harrying him back into retreat.

As the dark wizard coped with the two snarling canines, the figure made another broad motion with his wand and the wooden dance floor peeled away, the long lengths of polished timber folding together to create a half-dozen golems, each of which added to the pressure on Mulciber, who was now furiously backing away around the room, trying and failing to land a killing blow on one of his aggressors.

"What are you waiting for?" he screamed to the room. "Help me you idiots!"

The remaining Knights of Walpurgis reluctantly came to his aid, some attacking the figure's minions that were fast surrounding a panicking Mulciber. Others attacked the figure himself and a couple, perhaps more savvy than the others, attacked his chandelier.

None of them were very successful. While one golem burst into fire and disintegrated, the others just turned and made a beeline for the nearest knight. The animated creature lost a limb to a well placed bludgeoning curse, but this didn't seem to hinder it in the slightest and it flew to work, performing just as admirably with five legs as it had with six.

As for the figure, he didn't even look around as the curses flying toward him dissipated and dissolved into nothingness.

Instead he lifted his empty hand and a hundred thousand pinpoints of blue light soared from it, to buzz around the room attacking the Knights of Walpurgis indiscriminately. Tonks realised belatedly that it wasn't magic but thousands of fairies, no doubt plucked from the trees outside. They had given him his ethereal blue glow and now attacked at his command.

The small blue spheres of light wreaked havoc upon the ballroom. Some flinging themselves directly at the dark wizards and gouging at their eyes, some teaming up to pull wands from their hands and snap them, others just flying around and being a distraction. The golems and the chandelier were equally as devastating, cleaning up the incapacitated wizards with swift killing blows.

In the midst of the maelstrom, Mulciber and the figure dueled, their wands slashing through the air like sabres, enormous flashes of light erupting through the air. The wolves still snapped gamely at Leyland's heels and the pureblood wizard was beginning to pale in horror as the realisation that he couldn't win this duel slowly dawned upon him.

For all that he was a loud-mouthed bully, Tonks knew that Leyland Mulciber was a more than capable wizard and as such, his opponent's casual brilliance was all the more impressive in contrast. Likewise, Tonks knew, had known almost from the beginning of the duel, that the white-robed wizard belonged to a whole other echelon of wizard.

Then as quickly as it had all begun, it was over. Mulciber collapsed backward to the ground, his eyes wide open in surprise. His followers were either dead, or had been subdued by the other witches and wizards in attendance. The fairies had fled to parts unknown. The chandelier collapsed to the ground, as lifeless as it had always been and the wolves and golems vanished.

Silence reigned in the ballroom for a minute and then the crowd broke into a simultaneous round of applause for their savior. Who, for the first time, looked anything other than cool, calm and collected.

If anything, thought Tonks with the slightest amusement, he looked awkward and shy.

He glanced around him warily, like a wild animal caught in a trap, then lifted one hand and promptly disappeared in an enormous flash of fire to a cacophony of gasps and tiny shrieks.