Summary: This is a reposting of a previous story of mine (my first actually). For those who may remember, this story is taking a significantly different approach. In this story, Voldemort kills Dumbledore in the Ministry and possesses the Elder Wand. He also knows of the other two Hallows even if he does not understand their properties. He will make it his purpose to possess the Hallows, believing they will make him more powerful than Death.

Harry will undergo training now that Dumbledore is not controlling his fate, from new faces and old. His true connection with Voldemort will also be explored, as well as his ancestry, something I felt was lacking in canon.

In terms of eventual pairings, since romance is a fairly significant pillar of this story, is relatively straightforward. The important ones are listed as follows: Harry/Tracey, Hermione/Ginny, Remus/Tonks, Snape/OC, Neville/Lavender, Ron/Susan.

Hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading!

A/N—I do not own Harry Potter

A Twist of Fate

"Nothing there!" he shouted. "Nothing to summon! It smashed and nobody heard what it said, tell your boss that…"

"No!" she screamed. "It isn't true, you're lying—MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED—DO NOT PUNISH ME…"

"Don't waste your breath," yelled Harry, his eyes screwed up against the pain in his scar, now more terrible than ever. "He can't hear you from here!"

"Can't I, Potter," said a high, cold voice.

Harry opened his eyes.

Tall, thin, and black-hooded, his terrible snakelike face white and gaunt, his scarlet, slit-pupiled eyes staring . . . Lord Voldemort had appeared in the middle of the hall, his wand pointing at Harry who stood frozen, quite unable to move.

"So you smashed my prophecy," said Voldemort softly, staring at Harry with those pitiless red eyes. "No, Bella, he is not lying…I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind. Months of preparation, months of effort…and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again…"

"Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black," sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort's feet as he paced slowly nearer. "Master, you should know…"

"Be quiet, Bella," said Voldemort dangerously, though he carefully monitored the approaching storm rising from below. "I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?"

"But Master—he is here—he is below—"

Voldemort contemptuously turned his back on Bella, readying himself for the moment at hand.

"I have nothing more to say to you, Potter," he said slowly. "You have irked me too often, for too long. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

It was not a true killing curse; Voldemort could not afford to kill the brat now. So he was not surprised when the headless golden statue of the wizard in the fountain had sprung alive, leaping from its plinth, and landed on the floor with a crash between Harry and Voldemort. The spell merely glanced off its chest as the statue flung out its arms, protecting Harry.

"What…" said Voldemort, staring around with mock concern and disbelief. And then he breathed, "Dumbledore!"

Voldemort raised his wand and sent another jet of green light at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak; next second he had reappeared behind Voldemort and waved his wand toward the remnants of the fountain; the other statues sprang to life too. The statue of the witch ran at Bellatrix, who screamed and sent spells streaming uselessly off its chest, before it dived at her, pinning her to the floor. Meanwhile, the goblin and the house-elf scuttled toward the fireplaces set along the wall, and the one-armed centaur galloped at Voldemort, who vanished and reappeared beside the pool. The headless statue thrust Harry backward, away from the fight, as Dumbledore advanced on Voldemort and the golden centaur cantered around the both.

Voldemort paid careful heed to where Bellatrix and Potter fell. Fortunately, Bellatrix's wand was still within reach of her outstretched hand and she was only four to seven meters away from Harry.

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly, his blue eyes locked with Voldemort's red. "The Aurors are on their way…"

"By which time I shall be gone, and you dead," spat Voldemort. He sent another Killing Curse at Dumbledore, deliberately aiming slightly above the ancient wizard's left shoulder. Behind him, the security guards desk burst into flame.

Voldemort felt the countercurse coming, felt the raw power of the deprimo hex, which is traditionally very mild. To test the force of the spell, he conjured a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it, instead of the usual shield charm. The spell caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep, gonglike note reverberated from it, an oddly chilling sound. Behind his shield, Voldemort smiled carnivoursly at the power displayed.

"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore," called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. "Above such brutality, are you?" Voldemort continued moving in a counterclockwise circle, moving closer to his intended target.

"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. "Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit…"

"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore," snarled Voldemort, all the while trying to figure out what his next move would be.

"You are quite wrong," said Dumbledore, still closing in upon Voldemort and speaking as lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks. "Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness."

In a show mock anger, Voldemort vanished his shield, snarled hatefully, and cast another killing curse. This time it was the one-armed centaur, galloping in front of Dumbledore, that took the blast and shattered into a hundred pieces, but before the fragments had even hit the floor, Dumbledore had drawn back his wand and waved it as though brandishing a whip. A long thin flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Voldemort. For a moment, it seemed Dumbledore had won, but then the fiery rope became a serpent, which relinquished its hold upon Voldemort at once and turned, at Voldemort's command, to face Dumbledore.

Voldemort vanished. The snake reared from the floor, ready to strike.

There was a burst of flame in midair above Dumbledore just as Voldemort reappeared, standing on the plinth in the middle of the pool where so recently the five statues had stood.

Voldemort cast yet another jet of green light at the same moment that the snake leapt at Dumbledore, fangs bared. Fawkes swooped down in front of Dumbledore, opened his beak wide, and swallowed the jet of green light whole. He burst into flame and fell to the floor, small, wrinkled, and flightless. At the same moment, Dumbledore brandished his wand in one, long, fluid movement—the snake, which had been an instant from sinking its fangs into him, flew high into the air and vanished in a wisp of dark smoke.

All of that happened quickly but it was enough time for Voldemort to free Bellatrix before he turned to face Dumbledore. "Bella," he said, his eyes never leaving Dumbledore. "Kill Potter."

Bellatrix smiled hungrily and advanced on Harry, her knife flickering in the flames of the destroyed security desk. Harry could see the manic gleam in her eye. But, as Voldemort expected, Dumbledore fired a curse at Bellatrix, sending her flying into the fountain. Voldemort heard her neck snap and felt her die. The shock he felt at Dumbledore killing surprised him and nearly ruined his carefully laid plans. But in the moment before Dumbledore could bring his wand to bear, Voldemort cast one last killing curse. He cackled madly when the curse struck and Dumbledore fell to the ground with finality.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

Voldemort turned to Potter and smiled, a taut leer that was more menacing than a glare. He walked over and picked up Dumbledore's wand and immediately felt power coursing through his veins. It was a feeling unlike any he had experienced. For a moment, he felt his stomach contract and was fearful, after all this time, Dumbledore had bewitched the wand. But then the pull on his stomach released and Voldemort felt normal.

He laughed hysterically and raised the wand. A cannon boom went off and all the glass in every office blew out and fell to the floor. Voldemort held his arms out, as if it were nothing but snow. When the last piece fell with a small tinkle, Voldemort looked at Harry again. "Now we find out Potter if my calculations are correct." Without warning, his cast a killing curse at Harry. He turned on his heel before the curse hit, not wanting to be on the receiving end if he was right.

As his expected, the curse struck Harry and caused his head to bounce off the marble floor, obviously concussed. He watched the rebounded killing curse fly like lightening through the spot his once stood. When he was sure there was no danger, he walked over to Potter, pointed his wand at the boy and said "Rennervate."

Potter stirred, his eyes still dazed. He still had a concussion but Voldemort needed him awake before the aurors and the Minister arrived. He reached down and grabbed Potter's face. "Look at me Potter," he snarled. Potter looked at him but his eyes were shifting in and out of focus. Voldemort snarled and drove a nail into his scar, drawing both blood and a scream from the young boy. But he stared at Voldemort, his eyes focused, although they blazed with hate and, much to the Dark Lord's consternation, significant power.

None of that showed on his face though. "Listen to me very carefully Potter," his hissed. "Dumbledore died to protect you, as I knew he would. But it matters not. I've unlocked the secret to his power and it is mine. I will find a way to break the protection he gave you, as surely as I broke the protection your mother gave you. In the meantime, I will kill every person you love, one by one, until you beg for death. All that I ask in return for giving you the gift of salvation is that you take this time to prepare yourself for that final battle. For when you and I duel that final time, I want there to be no doubts that I am the greater wizard."

As he finished his warning, the fires throughout the Ministry Atrium started billowing green fire and witches and wizards stepped out of the grates, wands drawn. Voldemort smiled. "Good evening Minister," he said softly, though his voice nonetheless carried throughout the hall.

Fudge's eyes found Voldemort and he nearly fainted. "He's…you're back," he said fearfully.

Voldemort rose to his feet. "Have you missed me Minister," he asked, fully aware that every aurors wand was trained on him. "I feel I must thank you for everything you have done this past year. Were it not for you, it is quite possible that my most loyal followers would not have been released from prison when the Dementors revolted. I might also not have the loyalty of the giants, vampires, and werewolves. So again, I must give you my most sincerest gratitude for all that you have done to ensure my comeback went off smoothly." Voldemort bowed.

Fudge sputtered and fumed, his face paling as he realized how many people were looking at him with utterly furious glares.

Voldemort made as if to check the time. He spread his arms widely. Every fireplace grate slammed shut. "Forgive me friends but I must retire. Good evening and I look forward to when we shall meet again." He disappeared his rush of wind and smoke. Then, to the horror of everyone in the chamber, the glass he had destroyed billowed up like a tornado and flew at everyone on the other side of the hall.

Several witches and wizards screamed when they realized that the grates would not open and that they were trapped by an anti-apparation ward Voldemort had put up. A handful of aurors grabbed people and pulled them close as they raised different shields. Others tried to hide in the corners next to the fireplaces, hopeful that the glass would not get them there. Others stood stock-still, too scared to even move.

Harry, in yet another piece of irony from Voldemort, was protected as no spell Voldemort cast could kill Harry, directly or indirectly. Yet he had a perfect view of the carnage as men and women were gutted, blood spraying everywhere in the hall. Some of the aurors with shields kept them safe but others were not as effective. Blood and gore spilled out of the corners of the room as well, telling Harry those people were dead too.

After a couple of minutes, the tornado of glass ceased. The Atrium smelled powerfully of both the iron-stink of blood but also of bowels recently emptied. Harry would never forget that smell, no matter how hard he tried.

"Sweet Merlin," called a rasp, rough voice at the same time several screams pierced the quiet. Harry painfully turned his head—he was still dizzy form his concussion—and saw Ginny and Luna crying while Neville looked pale as a ghost.

Remus came over and helped free Harry from the statue. He noticed the clotted blood on the back of Harry's head. "Harry, can you see okay," he asked caringly. Harry nodded, causing his head to spin. Remus seemed to sense that and put Harry's arm around his shoulder to support him. "Come on Harry. I have you."

"Wait Remus," Moody growled, though there was a note of sorrow in his voice. "You need to see…come here for a moment." He couldn't bring himself to say Dumbledore was dead.

Remus turned and looked at Dumbledore's fallen body and nearly released Harry. "No, this cannot be happening," he said, though there was no fear in his voice—only infinite sadness. Then Remus noticed a small chirping coming for Dumbledore's left. "Alastor, pick up Fawkes."

Moody bent down and, as is customary for the death of an animal's familiar, he placed Fawkes on Dumbledore's chest. But the little phoenix, even in its infantile state, chirped negatively and tried to flap his little wings.

"What is the problem," Moody asked curiously. He bent back down and picked up Fawkes. The baby phoenix chirped and flapped towards Harry. "He wants you now Potter. Dumbledore must have left Fawkes to you." Moody put Fawkes in Harry's pocket and immediately, Harry felt a warm sensation in his naval.

Before he could think about the ramifications of having a phoenix, three men advanced on him, their wands drawn and, from the man in the center, a look of unbridled fury. "Come with me Potter," Fudge snapped.

Harry looked at him blearily, though the proximity with Fawkes was giving him strength. "Oho, found your tongue now did you Minister. Where was this bravado when Voldemort was standing before you?"

Fudge paled. One of the aurors stepped forward and jammed his wand into Harry's chest. "You should watch you tongue boy," the man snapped, his wand burning a hole in Harry's shirt.

Moody raised his wand, pushing the auror back. "That was a mistake Rufus," he rasped. "You've all just seen proof that Voldemort is back. Dumbledore managed to capture a number of Death Eaters in the Death Chamber. And even still, you talk to Potter like he is a criminal. Show me the warrant before you haul Harry off."

"Enough of this," bellowed another voice, feminine but radiating authority. "Rufus, Dawlish, go downstairs and retrieve the Death Eaters. "Kingsley and Moody, if you two would be good enough to tend to the wounded. I will speak privately with Remus, Harry, and his friends."

"Excuse me Amelia," said Fudge angrily. "You do not have the authority to override me."

"Cornelius, given what has transpired, I would say you have little practical authority," she countered calmly. "I would strongly suggest you go to your office and convene the Wizengamot."

"What do you need them for," he asked weakly. Even in his befuddled state, Harry could sense the fear in his voice.

"I am calling for a vote of no confidence in you," she said simply. Moody and Kingsley looked pleased and a nearly every survivor in the hall (those not passed out that is) clapped loudly and several cried "Second!" Fudge gave Amelia one incensed look and then stormed off towards his office.

Amelia looked at the body of Albus Dumbledore and a lone tear slid down her cheek. "He was a truly wonderful man and he will be missed." She drew herself straighter though. "But he would not have wanted us to sink beneath our grief and we shan't. Remus, please escort Harry to my office." She looked kindly at Ginny, Neville, and Luna. "If you three would please join us. I understand that this has been a terrible ordeal but I must find out exactly what happened here this evening." His friends really didn't show much of a reaction but followed numbly. Before they got in the lift, Harry heard Amelia shout for a healer.

Remus helped Harry into a chair and conjured a couple chairs for his friends. Then he went over to the fire and threw in floo powder. "Hogwarts—Professor McGonagall's Office," he said. He shared a few quiet words and then retracted just as Amelia walked into the office with two other women—healers apparently as one went to work on Harry's injury and the other saw to his friends.

Fawkes had been helping negate the worse of the pain but he wasn't capable of crying yet so it didn't really matter. The healer though healed his wound with practiced care and in no time he felt better.

"Thank you Phyllis, Jennifer," Amelia said as the two ladies left. "Now Remus, to whom were you speaking."

Before he could answer, the fire roared green again and Professor McGonagall and Snape stepped out. The former looked calm but Harry could tell she was on the verge of tears. Surprisingly, Snape looked slightly deflated.

"Ah, Professors. Thank you for coming. I am glad Remus saw fit to contact you. I imagine he told you the worst of this evenings events."

Minevra McGonagall sniffed. "Yes. I am glad Harry and the others are safe."

Amelia didn't push the topic of Dumbledore's death, which Harry was immensely grateful for. "I requested Harry and his friends, along with Remus of course, come to my office because I need to know precisely what happened this evening." She looked at the two professors. "I suspect the events of this evening began at the school though. Can either of you tell me anything?"

Snape told her in a few short sentences about Harry's vision, his being captured by Umbridge, and how he checked with the Order to make sure Sirius was safe. Harry looked surprised at the news that Snape checked on Sirius. Amelia looked shocked at the news that they were in contact with Sirius. "How in the world do you all know Sirius Black?"

Harry's face set and he fought the anguish gripping his heart. "Sirius Black was framed all those years ago by Peter Pettigrew."

"Was Sirius Black not your parents secret keeper," she asked, speaking only to Harry.

Harry shook his head. "No. Two years ago I found out that they switched to Peter because they believed Voldemort would consider him to weak and pathetic to be the secret keeper. They were wrong but when Sirius cornered Peter, he cut off a finger, killed those muggles, and escaped."

Amelia pulled a bottle out of her desk drawer. "Harry, I hope you'll forgive me but in order for this to have any legal weight, I will need you confirm your story under the influence of Veritiserum. Will you consent to taking the potion?" She did not push him nor did he think if he said no she would be angry. But Harry saw it as a way to posthumously honor Sirius.

Amelia dropped three drops on his tongue and then asked him fifteen questions concerning Sirius' past and the events from this evening. She tasked Professor McGonagall with recording the answers on parchment and Remus consented to giving the memory of the evening for evaluation.

Thirty minutes later, they had all the information they needed. "Thank you Harry. This was very brave and, if I may speak candidly, it sickens me that we allowed this to happen." She did indeed look disgusted, and Harry sensed she blamed herself as well. "But now we know Voldemort has returned. We must act very quickly to ensure the proper measures are taken."

"What will you do," asked Ginny, speaking for the first time. Her eyes were red from tears and she looked at Harry with deep sadness.

"The first thing we must do, and this morning if I have anything to say on the matter, is sack Fudge. He refused to listen to Dumbledore and sat on people who tried to make him see sense."

Harry remembered his trial. "What did he do to you for voting for me last summer?" He sensed he could trust this woman but he needed to know exactly what she was doing on the inside because Harry knew she was not a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

She smiled at him. "You do not trust me fully," she said with no malice. "After your trial, he attempted to remove me as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But the Wizengamot refused to vote on the matter, much to his dismay. I have many friends on the Wizengamot Harry, and throughout the Ministry. I may not be a part of Dumbledore's group but I share their sympathies. But I didn't confront Fudge. I resisted him in many smaller ways, such as sending aurors and soldiers throughout the country. Their de jure mission was to capture Sirius Black but their de facto mission was to hunt Death Eaters in muggle communities. But Voldemort truly was keeping his hand to himself because they couldn't find anyone."

"Then Fudge caught on, after Rufus went to him of course. Again he attempted to have me removed but there was no evidence that their objective was anything beyond capturing Sirius Black so he failed. But he assumed control of the aurors and our standing army and rendered me powerless, at least in my official capacity. I still rallied people against Fudge but I needed to work carefully or else, on the third attempt, he may have succeeded in removing me from office."

"What happens after Fudge is ousted from office," asked Remus.

"Then we need to find a successor. Again, this needs to happen quickly. If we push hard, we can remove Fudge and have a new Minister before the day is out."

"Who would you suggest," asked Minevra.

"Off the top of my head, there are three worthy choices: Kingsley Shacklebot, Arthur Weasley, and Dirk Cresswell. My fear is that a few on the Wizengamot will stall the vote because Arthur has too much affection for muggles and Dirk is a muggle-born. That is why we need to pick a candidate and move to hold the vote soon after Fudge is removed so we can avoid such nonsensical debates."

"What about you Amelia," Minevra asked and Harry saw Remus nod. "You are a worthy choice."

"I agree. And you would be voted in on first ballot," Neville said. "Gran always speaks very highly of you."

"I would take the position but I have baggage of my own."

"That's rubbish Amelia and you know it," rasped Moody from the doorway. "Excuse me but I want to let you know the wounded have been moved to St. Mungos. The dead have been sent there as well. Their families will be notified. Dawlish and Rufus brought up the Death Eaters and they are being detained in a couple of the holding cells. Their wands are being evaluated and will be ready for their trials."

Amelia cut him off. "They will have no trials. I have all the evidence I need from Potter and the others. Send them to Azkaban and tell Donovan that I want them placed under the strongest protections he can enact."

Moody eyed her contemplatively. "Yes ma'am. And you don't think you would be the best choice for Minister." He didn't wait for a response.

Amelia looked a little flustered. Her demeanor didn't change as she looked at everyone in the room, all of whom looked as if they agreed with Moody. "Very well, I shall submit my candidacy first but it will waste time if they do not approve."

Remus smirked. "I think it'll be fine." Then his expression softened. "If there is nothing else, I should like to escort Harry and his friends to Hogwarts. I trust Hermione and Ron have already been delivered."

"I'll go with you Remus," said McGonagall. Snape started to rise as well but Amelia held him back.

"I need you to stay Severus. I need a witness from the school regarding Umbridge. If I am going to sack Fudge, I may as well sack Umbridge. Minevra needs to assume her duties as Headmistress so I cannot ask her to stay." Snape nodded curtly and stayed behind as the other flooed to McGonagall's office.

"Remus, if you would, escort these four to the hospital so Poppy can check them again. Tell her that they have my permission to stay with Ron and Hermione until they recover. Then, if you would, please come back so that we can discuss how the Order is going to move forward."

After spending time to make sure Harry and the others were okay, Remus returned to McGonagall's office. He was not surprised to see Moody, Diggle, Kingsley, and Arthur.

"Thank you for returning Remus. Now, the first order of business is I received word through Kingsley that Fudge has been officially voted out as Minister. As is customary, a caretaker government has been established under Amelia Bones but she is pushing hard for a final vote this afternoon. The Wizengamot is hearing arguments for Kingsley, Dirk Cresswell, and Amelia. Arthur turned down the nomination." The Weasley patriarch blushed.

McGonagall's voice dropped a little with her second announcement. "As all of you now know, Albus is dead, murdered by You-Know-Who." She paused to wipe at her eye. "This makes the current situation all the more dangerous because he was the only wizard You-Know-Who ever feared. We must prepare for the war to move into the open and that means people are in more danger than ever."

"If Amelia gets the position, I fully expect her to move the Ministry into full combat readiness. She has already sacked Scrimgeour as head of the aurors and appointed Kingsley in his stead. She is also drafting a bill that will institute a draft to boost the army, though she will keep it on the backburner until the Wizengamot votes."

"I have already promised Amelia that I will enact the legislation if voted and I know Dirk will do the same, given the situation. The problem will be if another individual is selected by the Wizengamot."

"Given everything that has happened, I suspect Amelia will get the position. If that is the case, then the Order can move more openly with a friendly Ministry," concluded McGonagall. "Now, we must decide what to do with Potter. With Albus gone, his training falls to us."

"What do you mean training," Diggle asked. "And why is it so important Harry is trained?"

McGonagall stared at him, confused. "What do you mean Dedalus?" Then she saw a similar look of confusion on Moody's and Kingsley's faces. "You two don't know why we need to train Harry either?"

When they shook their heads, McGonagall nearly screamed. "Very well," she said, her mouth set in the thinnest of lines. "It seems we need to converse with Dumbledore. Gentlemen, please follow me."

She led them through the halls and into the Head office. She resolved to set the password at a later date. As she expected, Dumbledore was awake and did not seem surprised to see a number of the Order's leaders. "Good evening Minevra," he said.

"Do not 'good evening' me Albus," she said angrily. "How can you not have filled in the Order after Harry saw You-Know-Who return?" Then she looked at him, her hand covering her mouth. "You haven't told Harry either have you," she whispered. When he didn't answer, she advanced on the portrait, aware there was nothing she could do but furious all the same. "Does Harry know of the prophecy?"

Dumbledore hung his head. "No Minevra. He does not."

"When were you planning on telling him pray tell?"

"I don't know. Please Minevra. I did it so he would not worry."

"Idiot," she said savagely. "Remus, fetch Harry. It is time he knows the reason why You-Know-Who tried to kill him all those years ago." Kingsley, Moody, Diggle, and Arthur all looked shocked at McGonagall's rage.

Five minutes later, Remus came through the door with a rather confused (and, though he tried to hide it, devastated) Harry Potter. "What is this about Professor?"

McGonagall fought the urge to yell at Dumbledore again, instead taking a deep breath. "Harry, do you have any idea what was in the prophecy that Longbottom destroyed this evening?"

Harry's eyes widened. Apparently he hadn't expected to discuss the prophecy. "No Professor. Lucius did say it had something to do with why Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby and why I have my scar but that was it."

McGonagall gave curt nod. "Very well Potter. That certainly is true. Now, given tonight's events, I have decided that it is time to tell you the prophecy in its entirety. Only then can you understand why You-Know-Who has targeted you since you were an infant and why, beginning this summer, you will need additional training so you can be prepared to fight him as he alluded to this evening."

McGonagall walked back and pulled Dumbledore's penseive out of the cabinet and placed it on the desk. She focused very carefully on the memory Dumbledore showed her and then prodded the contents. Quite quickly, Sybil Trelawney rose from the depths, rotating clockwise as if speaking to everyone.

THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD

APPROACHES…BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN

AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK

HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS

NOT…AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEI-

THER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES…THE ONE WITH THE

POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH

MONTH DIES…

Professor Trelawney sank back into the depths of Dumbledore's memories and silence fell in the office. Remus was the first to break the silence. "Minevra, did Lily and James know about the prophecy?"

"Yes Remus. Albus told them shortly after they escaped You-Know-Who for the third time. They were also not the only couple to be moved into a safe house. If you will remember…"

"Frank and Alice were moved to a cottage in Wales," finished Moody. "Blimey, I never considered why they were moved."

"So what does this mean," asked Harry, unconsciously rubbing his scar.

Professor McGonagall shot Dumbledore a nasty leer before responding. "It means that perhaps six months before you were born, a prophecy was made about a boy who would grow to defeat You-Know-Who. That boy would be born at the end of July to parents who had defied him three times. Now that is the simple part. Within two months of the prophecy being made, according to Albus, two sets of parents defied You-Know-Who for a third time. Both women were pregnant and expected to give birth at the end of July. One set was your parents. The other was…"

"Neville's parents," Harry finished, not sure how he knew but positive he was right.

McGonagall nodded. "Yes Harry. Neville was the second possible boy. Now the remainder of the decision was up to You-Know-Who, although he didn't know it."

Harry, ignoring the mounting fear he was feeling, looked confused. "I don't understand. How was the decision Voldemort's at this time?"

"Because the remaining part of the prophecy stipulates that You-Know-Who would mark the boy as his equal. And he did, that Halloween night. Whether or not he planned to kill you both is a mystery but he decided to attack you first."

"That raises an interesting question Minevra," said Kingsley. "Why did You-Know-Who choose Harry, at least as his first target? Neville was the pureblood."

But Harry knew. "Because Voldemort is a half-blood too, just like me." Everyone looked at him with some surprise and, to his disbelief, skepticism. "It's true. Voldemort was known once upon a time as Tom Marvolo Riddle. He mum was a witch and his dad a muggle. I don't know the exact circumstances, but his mum died and he was raised in an orphanage. When he realized his dad was a 'common' muggle, he fashioned himself a new name: Lord Voldemort."

McGonagall nodded. "That is what Albus thought and I agree. Tom and I went to school together, though I would never have imagined he would become what he did. But I digress, by casting herself between you and You-Know-Who, Lily gave you a protection that he could not penetrate. And, as Harry has shown through the years, the effects of the failed curse are significant."

Harry rubbed his scar again. "Dumbledore told me that was why I could speak to snakes and why I could catch glimpses of his mind and emotions." He glared at the portrait. "What you neglected to tell me Professor is that in the end I either must kill him or he must kill me." Harry hid the fear he felt at this revelation behind anger.

Dumbledore had the decency to look ashamed. "I am truly sorry Harry. I had never expected to care for you as much as I grew to. My only thought, each passing year, was that I did not want to burden you with such knowledge. I know now that it was folly, and that if you knew what the prophecy said, you would not be tempted to seek it out this year. I am happy though that, whatever my mistakes, I died protecting you."

Whatever anger Harry and Professor McGonagall felt was immediately quashed, though Harry still held some resentment for being left in the dark. "What is 'the power the Dark Lord knows not' supposed to be," he asked, moving the topic in another direction.

"I believe it is, quite simply, your ability to love," Dumbledore said. "He does not respect, and so does not understand, the power that your mother gave to you that horrible night, nor does he understand how, after all the suffering you have endured, you can still resist the call of the Dark Arts. However, you may possess abilities to help you do battle with Voldemort as well."

"And how do we determine what these abilities may be," asked Remus. The werewolf, though he understood Dumbledore's motives for not telling Harry, still resented the Headmaster for not telling him all the same.

"Harry Potter is the heir to the Potter legacy and fortune. He is also, by virtue of the will of Sirius Black, the last heir of the Black legacy and fortune. When he turns sixteen, he will be able to claim his birthright since his parents and guardians are deceased. At that time, it would be prudent for Gringott's to administer an evaluation of his abilities and genealogy. That may reveal secrets that hitherto are unknown."

McGonagall nodded. "Very well Albus. That will also allow us to determine how best to prepare Harry."

Amelia Bones stood before the Wizengamot for the 4th time in the past six hours. It was nearly noon and she was growing increasingly agitated at the pace of the negotiations between the different factions of the Wizengamot. They called her before them now, and she hoped it was with their final decision.

"Hello again Madam Bones," said Wilbert Dowling.

"Why have you called me," she said, cutting right to the chase. "We do not have time to dilly-dally. Who have you chosen to take over for Fudge permanently?"

Several witches and wizards glared at her, angry at the abruptness with which she addressed them. Given the circumstances, she hardly cared.

"Well Madam Bones, I daresay we won't take up more of your time today. Given the circumstances, there is much to attend to." He spoke with great sadness. Dowling was a worldly man who served as ambassador to the International Confederation of Wizards, two stints as an auror, one on the British Magical Navy, and Charms professor at Hogwarts. He lived through four dark lords: Godelot, Owle Bullock, Grindelwald, and now Voldemort. If anyone on the staff understood the magnitude of the current situation, it was he.

"After careful consideration," he said, resuming his speech. "We have decided to make you permanent Minister. It is my sincerest and personal hope that we all may live through the present crisis and live to enjoy a most deserved peace following this war."

Amelia nodded dutifully. "Thank you lords and ladies. If you will all excuse me." She waited politely for Dowling to nod and took leave.

"Congratulations Minister," Dirk Cresswell said as she left.

"Thank you Dirk. Now, I need you to speak with Ragnuk II and arrange a meeting between he and I."

Dirk nodded. "Of course Minister. When should I make the meeting for?"

"As soon as possible. If it were tomorrow, that would be great. The goblins never showed an interest in Voldemort but we cannot afford any of their blasted neutrality either."

Dirk smiled slyly. "I imagine you do not want me to refer to their 'splendid isolationism' as blasted neutrality."

Amelia didn't smile but the corner of her mouth twitched upwards. "I'll leave you to it Dirk. I have a meeting with Minister Faure, Minister Rykov, and Ambassador Eisen. Now that I am formally Minister, it will be much easier to hold negotiations."

Dirk bowed. "Very good Minister. I will speak with Ragnuk II and follow up with you this evening."

Amelia walked took the lift up to her floor and walked towards her office. As she passed through the Atrium, she was immensely grateful that the destruction from the battle was gone. It had been a terribly grisly scene.

"Hello Minister," said Percy Weasley somewhat stiffly. "The foreign contingent are waiting."

"Thank you Percy." She didn't care much for the boy (though she would never say that to his face). He was an opportunist and she had trouble deciding if he held any true loyalties. That being said, he was an incredibly hard worker, which would keep him in his position for now.

Putting Percy Weasley out of her mind, Amelia walked into her office and greeted the two men and one woman. "Has your congress decided on a Minister," Ambassador Rachel Eisen asked, her soft Virginian accent, not unlike her own.

"They have decided that I will serve as Minister during the present conflict." She smiled at her distinguished guests. "I imagine that will make out negotiations easier."

"It shall," stated Minister Nikolai Rykov. The Russian was an imposing man, tall, broad chested, with eyes like steel. He was not a man to be taken lightly, as Fudge too often did. Amelia, who always approved of Nikolai's no-nonsense approach to negotiations, saved many a deal that Fudge nearly squandered. Russia and Britain, during the war with Grindelwald, were rivals as well as allies. Now they stood steadfast together, each benefiting from continued friendly relations with the other.

"If I may, I am simply pleased not to deal with that insufferable Fudge and his toady—no pun intended," said Minister Émile Faure said with a chuckle. "Under different circumstances, I would worry about the diplomatic implications of such a comment but I know Amelia, you have no love for either."

"Why whatever do you mean Émile," she asked innocently. "Very good. Now onto business. As you three know, the wizard styling himself Lord Voldemort is once again active in the country. I have asked you three here so that we can coordinate forces to combat this threat."

"You are assuming of course that we will lend aid to your country," said the Frenchman candidly. "We generally have close ties with your country but many of my countrymen are, shall we say, disenchanted with the way your country has paid respects to our own in the fourteen years since Voldemort fell."

Amelia nodded. "I will admit to that. I cannot answer for the deeds—or misdeeds—of my predecessor. In your instance, I would hope your country would remember the British gold that flooded your markets after Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald. We also, despite being bogged down in a war on our own soil, sparred several of our most accomplished vampire slayers to eighteen years ago, to aid in the uprising against your government."

Without waiting for a response, she addressed Nikolai. "As for your government, I understand that there has been a rash of werewolf instances."

The Russian nodded. "Most unfortunate yes. How does this pertain to our possible assistance?"

"There is a potion. It will not cure werewolves but it will significantly diminish the effects of the transformation. I will release the full collection of notes and trial records to your government for your assistance. Given the current state of things, I hope you will understand why I cannot spare any potioneers."

Nikolai showed none of what he was thinking. "And for this you would expect? For that matter, why speak with all of us together?"

Amelia closed her eyes and sighed. "I am aware that my country called in a number of favors during the last war, favors that were owed because of our involvement in Grindelwald's war. Now I am asking for a show of faith." She looked each of her guests in the eye. "Your countries, more than any other, have been affected by Voldemort or his forces during the last war. You know his power and his knowledge of the Dark Arts. But I suspect he has learned his lessons now. He will focus all his energies on toppling the government I lead. But when he does, nothing will stop him from expanding his influence elsewhere."

"That is a bold statement Amelia," said Eisen. "But what you are asking for is misleading. If it is faith you want, I daresay we have faith in your country. You want men and matériel for your fight. That is different."

Amelia frowned but then realized the fault was with her. "I apologize for not being clear. I am not asking you to have faith in my country. I am sure myself and others have your faith. No, I am asking you to have faith in Harry Potter."

Silence met this request. Rachel was the first to break it. "I am afraid I do not understand Amelia. Why do we need to have faith in a teenage boy? I understand he 'defeated' Voldemort when he was a baby but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Harry Potter has been targeted by Lord Voldemort or one of his followers each of the past five years. Yet each time he has met the challenge. Under the influence of Veritiserum, Harry confirmed that Voldemort has marked him as his primary adversary. Voldemort wants Harry properly trained so that when they duel for the final time, there will be no doubt Voldemort is the superior."

The three ambassadors shared confused looks. "What are you requesting," Nikolai asked.

"I am asking you to have faith that Harry will learn all that he must to defeat Voldemort when that final battle comes…faith that we can train and prepare him or that battle."

More confused looks. "You are not making sense mon cheri."

"My country needs time," she stressed. "Time to prepare Harry for the fight that we know is coming. It will ultimately decide who wins this war. But we will need your help to give us that time. We will need matériel certainly. But more then that, we need soldiers and, if you will spare them, aurors. If you give us that show of faith, you will have not only the gratitude of my country but also the support of one of the most powerful and famous wizards of the age. How many services did Dumbledore do for your countries and others after Grindelwald was defeated? How much influence did he have on international events, influence that directly and indirectly led to safer and more secure conditions in your countries and others? I am asking you to have faith that Harry will show the same dedication to justice and will, more importantly, have the ability to affect positive change in our world for generations, as Dumbledore did before him."

The three foreign representatives shared another look, but this time it was contemplative. "This type of service is not something you can teach someone," Nikolai said slowly. "It is something you are born with. Does Potter have a sense of justice and resistance to the Dark Arts?"

Amelia nodded. "He does. He has suffered so much and shares an intimate connection with the foulest wizard to walk the Earth. And yet he is not seduced by the Dark Arts. He continues to love when it would be easier to hate. I have faith in Harry that he can save this country. I ask that you have faith that he can change the world."

Voldemort watched the two men before him writhe in and scream with pain and could not help but smile with glee. He prided himself on being extraordinarily powerful but with this wand, he barely need to exert himself for his spells to have more effect than any he cast with his yew wand. And if he applied more force—as he was doing now—the effects were truly amazing.

After twenty seconds, he lifted the curse and watched as each man tried to compose himself. Two vomited what pitiful contents were left in their stomachs and looked ready to pass out, or possibly die. A ward of Voldemort's own creation kept them from passing out.

He walked over the man on the right and lifted his chin, staring hard into his dark blue eyes. There was very little life but enough to last him through this interrogation. "What more can you tell me about the Hallows," he said softly, menace in his voice.

The man blinked miserably, what little life he retained slowly degenerating. "I've told you everything," he said hoarsely. His head drooped but Voldemort knew he was looking at the ring on his finger. "You've already deduced that that was the stone."

Voldemort stood straight for a moment then slapped his prisoner; the stone upon his old family ring knocking free a tooth from the man's mouth. He barely had energy though to spit. The blood dripped lazily down his chin.

"Ollivander," Voldemort said, pointing towards his other prisoner, "has provided me with valuable information, without which I would not possess the Wand of Destiny! But he has never heard of the 'Deathly Hallows.' And Lord Voldemort always knows when one is lying. But you, I can see the thoughts that roam your mind. You were so proud when you discovered that you possessed the 1st Hallow. You desired the others but, alas, did not know where to look. You closed your shop and ventured around Europe and Britain, finding clues of their existence and their extraordinary properties."

Voldemort sat down, resting his chin on his fingers in a gesture reminiscent of Dumbledore. "I want what you discovered. Tell me Gregorovitch…tell me where you kept the secrets of Hallows two and three."

The older wand maker's eyelids fluttered uselessly, death not far from taking him. But before Voldemort could cast any spells that might keep him awake long enough to give something, he felt the other man succumb to death.

Furious, he killed Ollivander with a flick of his wand and left the room.

"Rowle, dispose of the bodies," he said, barely acknowledging the Death Eater standing outside the door.

He passed silently through the halls of Malfoy manor, ignoring his minions, consumed in his thoughts. After the boy escaped him in the graveyard, he had been afraid that there was some power the boy possessed that made him more powerful. He was relieved when, after some persuasion, Ollivander explained barely 10 months ago that Potter escaped because his wand and Potters were brothers. The boy possessed no great power. He was merely lucky.

But Voldemort knew then that he would need another wand, at least when he dueled Potter. The pathetic wandmaker's mind traveled down a path that, initially, seemed silly. Why would a wand from a children's story have any bearing on the present? But then Voldemort dove deeper into the man's consciousness and found the truth. Ollivander had seen a wand, many decades ago, in a peer's shop. The other wandmaker showed him how truly powerful it was and explained to him the story of the Three Brothers and the Deathly Hallows. Ollivander scoffed at the other Hallows but was enamored by the wand.

And it was that memory that sent Voldemort to a small village fifty miles north northeast of Sofia in Bulgaria, to the shop of Yaropolk Gregorovitch. The man was no longer in business, having sold his shop six years previous, but, as Voldemort, he still harbored a near obsession of the Elder Wand. But, despite months of torture and belligerent mind manipulation and excavation, Voldemort could not find any knowledge of the properties of the other Hallows, save that one was a black stone and the other was an invisibility cloak. Consumed as he is with the conquest of death, Voldemort sought the Hallows but, with Gregorovitch dead, the trial has gone cold.

A brusque knock jarred him from his musings. "Enter Augustus," he said softly.

The former Unspeakable shambled into his office, his eyes on the floor, his body reeking of fear. "Milord," he began.

"Speak Rookwood."

"Yes milord," he stammered. "Milord, I have received word that the Ministry is targeting all suspected Death Eaters in the Ministry."

Voldemort rapped his fingers on the desk, impatience lacing his voice as he spoke. "Rookwood, they have done this before. Why do you bring this news to me now?" He spoke with a modicum of danger. If Rookwood were wasting his time, he would suffer.

But Rookwood did indeed have most troubling news. "Milord, the new Minister—Amelia Bones—is working the Dirk Cresswell and Kingsley Shacklebot to interrogate all current and former Death Eater suspects. And their list is alarmingly accurate and extensive. They are also using Veritiserum. Already fifteen of our allies have been arrested and imprisoned…"

"In Azkaban," Voldemort interrupted.

"Some milord, but not all. They are using Ministry holding cells because they believe them safer."

"How do you know this information?"

Rookwood bowed and pointed his wand at the hallway. Voldemort heard a soft whimper as an extremely short, stout woman was levitated into his presence. Her pale, flabby face went a little green as she looked into the eyes of Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord recognized the woman from the papers.

"Dolores Umbridge," he said softly. "You were once Fudge's right-hand woman."

"Milord, three days ago, after Amelia was appointed Minister, Fudge were sacked. She wanted to remove Umbridge as well but, because the accused needed to be present, she sent a team of aurors to retrieve her. They knew, somehow, that she was being held in the forest by the centaurs. They rescued her, tried her, and sacked her in the space of two days."

"How then does she know of our current misfortunes?"

"From what I can gather from her memories, she pleaded with a number of her connections on the Wizengamot and in the Ministry to help her. A few did, others ignored her. One of her requests was to be informed of how her trial was commencing. Two different sources, purebloods that represent the Zabini and Davis families, told her that she was all but terminated and banished from the Ministry. But they also, perhaps because they hoped she would pass along the message, told her in detail about the efforts Madam Bones is putting forth to purge the Ministry of dissidents. And sure enough, Dolohov and Carrow apprehended her in Knockturn Alley as she tried to make contact with us."

Voldemort looked at his prisoner. He smiled as she looked upon him with terrible fear. "You are wise to fear me Dolores," he said. "But Lord Voldemort appreciates those who help him. For giving me this information, I will not harm you." The dumpy woman looked relieved, which caused Voldemort to smile hungrily. "Rookwood, take Miss Umbridge to the Interrogation chamber. I need every piece of information in her worthless mind concerning the Ministry, Hogwarts, and Azkaban. Do not withhold any efforts to extract all the necessary information."

"I shall not disappoint you milord. And after I am finished."

Voldemort leered at Umbridge. "Dispose of her." The dumpy woman tried fruitlessly to scream and struggle against her restraints. Amused, Voldemort vanished the cloth over her mouth with a wave of his hand. "What is it Madam Umbridge?"

"You said I wouldn't be harmed," she cried. "I sought you out to…to protect your followers."

Voldemort kneeled down and stared hard into the yes of his pathetic prisoner. "Such lies Madam Undersecretary. You served in the Ministry twenty-two years ago as junior aid to the Department of Magical Cooperation, when the Ministry enacted a 'secret' edict to capture any of my followers branded with the Dark Mark. You, like all the weak fools in the Ministry who thought as I did but feared serving under me, watched as my followers were captured. Where was your protection then?"

"And now, it was not a desire to protect that led you to me. It was fear. The Ministry cast you out because of the crimes you unleashed on the students of Hogwarts in particular but also because you are a fool and a blowhard. No doubt a few of my followers will be safely removed from the Ministry when I warn them, but I would've found out in the end."

"But I helped you all the same," Umbridge pleaded shrilly. "I will gladly give all the information I know to you. I wish…" she winced and Voldemort sensed her insides squirm. "I wish to serve you."

Voldemort laughed. "Even if that were true, which I know it is not, you are weak and foolish. A shrewd mind exists among the idiocy but not enough to make you valuable. Besides, for what other purpose would I put you besides spy in the Ministry? Hogwarts will never welcome you." He leered again. "No, death is the most effective way you can serve me. But first, my friend will gather all the information he can to make sure that, even in death, you serve Lord Voldemort well." He looked up at Augustus. "Take her away Rookwood."

Umbridge screamed bloody murder until Rookwood, having enough, sliced her bottom jaw off and pulled out her tongue. Before Voldemort could punish him for killing her, the former Unspeakable quickly and ably healed the wound. "I will give her a blood replenishing potion when I reach the chamber milord," he said with remorse. "I just could not stand to hear her voice any longer. And it is not as if she will need to speak in order for me to get the information I need."

"Very well Rookwood. Carry on."

So the Ministry is trying to round up my followers and remove them from the government. This is a problem but I believe it is something that can, in time, be overcome. But first there are other things I must attend to.

He pressed a button on his desk. "Narcissa, Dolohov, and Scabior, please come to my office." Three pops announced the arrival of his minions. They each bowed and stood before him, silent and waiting. Voldemort felt Narcissa's pain at losing her sister. He could not fault her as she was one of his greatest followers.

"I have unfortunate news. The Ministry is trying to remove us from the government. Other plans must, as a result, be expedited to ensure we are not put at a disadvantage."

"What would you have us do milord," Dolohov said.

"I have three different tasks that I am entrusting to you three. I would've assigned them in time but we must act quickly. First, Dolohov, I want you to venture to the Tibet and the Canadian Rockies."

"Milord wants me to return with the Yeti," Dolohov interjected.

Voldemort nodded. "I do. Explain that they will join Liath's tribes in Scotland when they arrive. In return, assure them that our previous pledge will be carried forth."

"Milord, you will train them to use wands," he asked skeptically.

"No fool," Voldemort snapped. "Of course not. But you told me that they would not come unless such a promise is made. Am I correct?"

Dolohov bowed. "Yes milord. I apologize milord. I did not remember the conversation just now."

"See that you do not fail me in Tibet. You may leave Dolohov, with no more than two companions."

"Yes milord. Thank you milord." Dolohov fled.

"Scabior, your task is much simpler though you will need to travel quickly."

"What would you 'ave me do milord?"

"Put out the bulletin in Eastern Europe, Iran, the Congo River basin, South Africa, Mongolia, Korea, Canada, Brazil, Jamaica, and Chile that I am putting bounties on numerous targets. Be subtle because I do not want the governments warned if at all possible."

"If you're hoping to attract followers milord, it be best to offer sanctuary and pay to some interested in 'general' work as well."

Voldemort nodded once again. "I leave it to you to give an appropriate price for 'general' work and appointed hits. I expect a good reception."

Scabior nodded, one of his gold teeth shimmering as he smiled. "Leave it to me milord," he said confidently. "I'll 'ave several thousand crooks, thieves, and assassins 'ere quicker 'en you can imagine. And that doesn't count the riff-raff that'll be good cannon fodder."

Voldemort waved Scabior. "I will leave you too it. Return before the month is out."

Then it was only he and Narcissa. "Milord," she said brusquely. "How can I serve you?" Her expression was stolid, but Voldemort saw the fear in her eyes. He could see now that she was afraid of punishment for Lucius' failings.

But Voldemort did not wish to punish Narcissa or ant Malfoy. The prophecy was never his true objective and, in the end, he hardly cared to hear it now. "Narcissa, I have a unique task. You will speak of it to no one. Am I clear?" He stared at her, his eyes burning with power.

She flinched but barely. "Of course milord. What would you have me do?"

He handed her a specific set of coordinates. Her eyebrows shot to her forehead. Milord, are you…"

"No one can know what you're doing Narcissa," Voldemort said, cutting her off. "You will not approach anyone on the grounds. I only want to know what protections are in place. I will give you one week. If after one week you have not deduced all of the protections that are in place, return with what you have and we will make additional arrangements. I cannot stress the importance of this task Narcissa. I would go myself but I know new protections have been put in place to prevent me from approaching the grounds."

"I will not fail you milord," she said, bowing deeply. "Is there anything else?"

"No. Return to me in a week." The Malfoy matriarch bowed and withdrew. Voldemort turned around and stared over the grounds. He had hoped the Ministry would plod along like a drunken fool but it was not to be. He would have to accelerate some of his plans but it would not present too much difficulty.

He looked outside as a bolt of lightening cut across the sky and rain began to pour. Soon Harry Potter, you will be mine. Soon, I will have my revenge and I alone will stand atop the world, the one true master of all magic. Soon.