The Attack on Potter Castle

Harry lay there on the bed, his heart beating a mile a minute. What was that? He had felt a shift in the wards! Closing his eyes, he concentrated, but he could still feel a disturbance; it was like he was seeing through a thick ice shard, which should not be possible. He should have complete control. The frown on his face deepened.

"Tippy!" Harry called loudly as he got to his feet. There was no answer. "Sally! Toby! Dobby! Winky!"

None of them answered and Harry's heart skipped a beat. Quickly grabbing a pair of shorts that had been discarded on the floor several hours ago, he donned them on, summoned his wand to his hand, and rushed towards Dylan's bedroom.

Looking out of the window from the corridor, he realised that there was probably no one outside. The disturbance came from inside the castle. But then again, it was difficult to judge because of the sheer size of the structure itself; the attackers could be anywhere but Harry was sure beyond a doubt that the castle was under attack. He had meticulously studied the protections employed at Potter Castle since the age of seven, having been trained religiously by his ancestor's ghost, and could walk the corridors and judge the wards blindfolded. Something was very wrong.

Opening the door, he darted towards the bed.

"Dylan, wake up," whispered Harry hurriedly, removing the thick blanket off his brother. Unfortunately, the resident of the room was not in a mood to get up.

"Oh, Tori," Dylan whispered in his sleep as he rubbed his erect penis against the soft mattress, a dopey grin on his face. He moaned in pleasure when a sticky, white fluid erupted from the tip of his cock and coated the bedsheets.

"Oh, great!" groaned Harry, rolling his eyes. "My brother is having a wet dream! Dylan!"

He sent a stinging hex to Dylan's arse, making the younger boy yelp as he sat upright in an instant, cum still leaking down his hard shaft. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes while massaging his sore bum, he murmured, "Harry? What are you doing here? Why did you wake me?"

Tossing Dylan a pair of underwear, the only thing he could find at the moment, Harry said, "We're under attack. Put those on and come with me. We need to get to my study, so move quickly!"

Now completely awake, Dylan quickly complied and grabbed his wand. The two brothers then quickly made their way out of the room, carefully walking towards Harry's study.

"Harry, the portraits are all frozen!" whispered Dylan.

"Yes, I know," said Harry, his voice cold, simmering with anger. He wondered for a moment if the wards were malfunctioning, but dismissed the thought immediately. He and Sirius had replaced the ward stones at Potter Castle and Black Manor just six months ago, so it wasn't possible for them to have failed this drastically. Whatever was going on was intentional. Someone was deliberately blocking his remote control of the wards so that he couldn't sense their presence.

"I sense something," whispered Harry, making them stop in the middle of the corridor. "Wand at the ready! Fire whatever curses come to your mind!"

"Aye," muttered Dylan.

They stood in the darkness, Harry having disabled the lighting charms in the corridor. They waited for an opening; even though he didn't have full access, Harry could still feel a distant echo, the castle's protective enchantments warning him of a presence nearby. Their enemies were close, very close.

The intruders were not prepared for the attack, but they did retaliate. Flashes of spellfire illuminated the corridor, but the fight was over before it truly began. The newly recruited Death Eaters were taken by surprise and were just not prepared for the brutal assaults launched against them, courtesy of Harry and Dylan.

"We've found them!" screamed one of the Death Eaters, but his voice was drowned when a dark severing charm decapitated him. The spellfire destroyed parts of the corridor, but all four attackers were dead.

"There are more of them," said Dylan, his voice shaking with fright. "How many are there?"

"Come on," said Harry, taking Dylan's hand in his as they moved, reaching the Lord's study several minutes later; there was a secret passageway that linked the family wing on the second floor to the Lord's study on the first. Activating the lighting charms, Harry briskly walked over to his desk. Dylan watched curiously as Harry sliced a line on his palm and dropped several drops of blood on the desk, making a silver round rune plate appear.

Pressing the runes with complete ease which he did not have when he was seven years old, muttering various spells and passwords at the same time, Harry connected to the wards. The intruders may be able to block his remote access, but they had no chance of blocking his link to the wards from the castle's command centre – his study. Harry pursed his lips when he sensed twelve more of the intruders in the castle. There were eight people nearby and the rest on the third floor.

Harry took a deep breath.

"INTRUDER ALERT! Seal the castle! Piertotum Locomotor! Security, place floors one through seven under lockdown! Armoured Knights to the first floor in the north wing and third floor in the east wing! Grounds Security, man the boundaries and ensure no one enters or escapes!"

Dylan watched in awe as the lighting charms turned off but turned on again, this time emitting a red glow from the ceiling, the alert charm showing that there were intruders in the castle. The windows all slammed shut and the armoured knights that he thought were for display actually came to life – no doubt heavily enchanted – gripping a lethal looking axe. He could not see it, but the various dragons, chimaeras, manticores, griffins and other stone statues came to life, patrolling the grounds as ordered. This was the reason Potter Castle and even Hogwarts was said to be safe. The offensive structures were just as deadly as the defensive wards.

"What do we do now?" asked Dylan.

Harry removed a large silver sword with egg-sized rubies on the handle from a secret compartment on the wall. "Now, we bloody kill them for daring to attack our home," snarled Harry furiously, his eyes slowly turning jet black like a drop of ink expanding on paper, green disappearing. "Stay inside this room, Dylan. I'll take care of those bastards outside."

"I'm not letting you face them alone!" he shouted heatedly. "Harry, please, let me help you!"

Harry looked at his brother for a moment but eventually nodded. He passed a goblin-made silver dagger to Dylan. "Keep this with you," he said, attaching it to the waistband of the boy's underwear with a sticking charm. "This sheath is made of basilisk hide and the dagger is infused with venom. I can tell that there are werewolves here. They're extremely agile even when not transformed. Stab them if you lose your wand."

Dylan nodded with determination as they walked out of the study. The corridor outside too was bathed in the dim red light from the ceiling, the intruder alert in place. No sound could be heard from anywhere because of the lockdown but Harry could sense the attackers nearby.

"Dylan, they have us cornered," whispered Harry in his ear. "Four on either side of the corridor, with us in the middle. Don't let them escape. These two armoured knights will help you but more will be on the way, okay? Do the best you can and stay safe. If you think you can't handle it, rush to my study. They shouldn't be able to penetrate its protection."

"Yes, Harry."

"Get ready … NOW!"

Flashes of light flew in all directions as the battle commenced. Harry was right, there were werewolves in the attacking party and the speed at which they dodged spells was incredible. Dylan used the quick and effective spell-chains he had developed recently as he fought with the best that he had. Severing curses, Reductor curses, blasting curses, organ-liquefying curses, blood-boiling curses, bone-breaking curses – anything which was lethal was being fired by the teenage boy, but the attacking party did not seem to want to kill them.

The armoured knights decapitated two of the Death Eaters with their massive axes and Dylan winced as a cutting curse impacted his bare chest, drawing blood. Nevertheless, he continued fighting. His attackers were on the back foot, doing their best to avoid the strong and precise spells Dylan was launching at them. Harry, on the other hand, was blasting everyone back with ferociousness, his agility and powerful spells giving him an advantage. One of the intruders, a werewolf probably, was extremely agile and actually missed several of Harry's targets. The three other Death Eaters were dead on the floor, but Harry was duelling this particular werewolf with all his might. He would have had a much easier time had they been outside. Unlike Dylan, indoor duelling was not his speciality.

Greyback snarled as he fired another curse at Potter. Why couldn't the brat just come silently? This was all that curse-breaker's fault! What part of disabling the alert charms did he not understand? He swiftly moved towards the other side of the corridor, still defending himself against Potter's rapid assaults. Making his way to Lestrange, he grabbed the boy by the hair after cursing him in the shins with the same spell Rodolphus had used on Harry months ago.

Dylan's wand sailed out of his hand as the boy screamed in agony, hands desperately attempting to cup his genitals. The Faux Castration Curse, designed specifically to cause agonising pain in order to distract the opponent by cursing the most sensitive part of their body, seemed to work wonders. Greyback had gotten to him.

"One more move, Potter, and Lestrange shall die by my hand," snarled Greyback, panting hard, as he pointed a sharp knife at Dylan's throat. "Drop your wand or I'll kill him!"

Harry now recognised who this was; he had seen him in Voldemort's memories and he knew Greyback was not kidding when he said he would kill Dylan. His eyes, still as black as the cosmos, focussed on the werewolf, calculating a strategy to defeat his enemy as he casually threw his wand away. To Harry's immense anger, he saw blood trickling down Dylan's throat.

"Now, you both will quietly come with me," said Greyback, grinning widely. "The Dark Lord wants you both unharmed but I'm sure that's only because he wants to kill you personally. I can't wait to feast on you both. Move it!"

Harry simply stared at Greyback.

"Call off your helpers, Potter, do you take me for a fool? Remember, any funny move on your part and I'll slit Lestrange's throat!"

"Don't do it," said Dylan struggling, but the knife cut deeper into his throat and he cried out in pain. It was not as bad as the pain emanating from his groin, but it still hurt.

An idea flashed to him, but it was very risky. Harry had explained the theory of infusing one's body with magic and he had been practising it for over a year. Dylan concentrated as he infused his skull with magic and tried to signal his brother with his eyes. Harry didn't respond as they walked, his gaze not leaving his brother for an instant. Suddenly, Dylan smashed the back of his head against Greyback's face, the infusion of magic making the werewolf howl in pain. Taking the opportunity, he grabbed the dagger and stabbed Greyback in the chest, just as Harry joined him, the Sword of Gryffindor gleaming under the lighting charms of the intruder alert, as he in one swift stroke beheaded Greyback, making his head roll over, the marble floor splattered with blood.

Harry sneered at the beheaded corpse of the notorious werewolf. "Your life was hanging by a thread the moment you stepped into my home, Greyback. This is for all those children whose lives you destroyed by turning them into werewolves. Oh, revenge is indeed sweet!" he said, savouring the moment, not caring about the fact that he was covered in blood, a glint in his eye.

"Come on!" he said, grabbing Dylan's arm as they quickly made their way to the study again.

Connecting to the wards directly, Harry smirked in satisfaction. The four Death Eaters on the third floor had been killed by the armoured knights.

"All sixteen of them are dead," he announced quietly.

He activated the lights in the study and made Dylan sit down. Harry's bare chest and stomach were covered in cuts. There was also a nasty gash on his left cheek. Dylan too had several cuts and bruises but the most prominent was the one on his throat, which was bleeding painfully. Harry waved his wand as he attempted to seal the cut on his brother's neck. The latter, however, was whimpering as he now had nothing to distract him from the pain.

"Does it hurt too much?" asked Harry worriedly. "I'm sorry, but I'm not good at healing spells. We'll have a Healer examine you thoroughly, don't worry."

"I'm fine," said Dylan through gritted teeth. "It'll pass, don't worry."

Harry shook his head. "Stand up," he instructed softly. When his brother complied, he kneeled down, pulled Dylan's boxer-briefs down to his ankles and tossed them aside. Dylan's breathing became ragged when he reclaimed his seat and immediately crossed his legs, trying to alleviate the pain by rubbing his thighs together. Nearly a minute of gentle coaxing later, he finally scooted his butt forward on the plush armchair and spread his legs wide. After observing the younger boy's genitals for several moments, Harry sighed, with a pained expression on his face, and stated, "Your penis is erect and your testicles are swollen. That means –"

"No, they're not! I'm fine, Harry, I swear!"

"Don't be childish, Dylan! You were hit by the Faux Castration Curse and denying it will not make the problem disappear! Your cock is hard and this is not due to arousal – you were in a fight for your life just minutes ago, for Merlin's sake! Your balls are definitely bigger than their usual size and unless we treat it, they'll continue to swell until they're twice as large as plums! The effects of the curse, if not contained now, will quickly spread to the surrounding area. The same thing happened to me after I was attacked in the graveyard, remember? I endured it for nearly two months. Do you want to suffer like that too?"

Dylan grimaced. He did remember and it was not something he wanted to experience himself. The pain was unbearable and he could already feel it spreading to his arse and thighs. Swallowing heavily, he murmured, "Fine. Let's get it over with."

Harry summoned a container that was filled with the salve that Madam Pomfrey had prescribed for him several months ago. Following his brother's instructions, Dylan scooped up the paste but the moment his fingers brushed against his ball sac, he whimpered and downright refused to touch them again. Unable to reason with him, Harry took over, not listening to his brother's pleas.

"Get on your hands and knees," he instructed. "That way, I can do it all at once."

"Harry, please," the younger boy begged.

"Now, Dylan!"

Not having a choice, Dylan reluctantly moved to the carpeted floor and got in position. Breathing heavily, desperately trying to handle the searing pain shooting up his body, he waited. His face burned in obvious embarrassment.

Not wasting time, Harry kneeled down, facing his brother's side. Generously gathering the salve in both hands, he took a deep breath and began applying it on the affected area, silently and in a professional manner, slowly stroking the length of Dylan's erect penis with his left fist while using his right hand to caress the testicles. He personally knew how painful the effects of that particular curse were, and even though he knew his brother was currently mortified (as he himself had been when Rodolphus cursed him months ago), treatment was absolutely essential. With an expressionless face and pursed lips, his left hand still wrapped around Dylan's thick cock, he collected more of the salve with his right hand, and much to his brother's frustration, ran his fingers over the crack of the boy's buttocks, soothing the anus, before moving his attention to the testicles once more. Neutralising Dylan's tantrum every now and then, he continued the process for nearly twenty minutes.

"I hate you! I hate you!" the Lestrange scion shouted repeatedly. His spread legs were magically frozen, and a sticking charm on his hands and knees were holding him in place so that he couldn't kick his brother – again – who was trying to heal him before the effects of the curse could become chronic. With the salve currently being applied over his anus, Dylan felt like an infant having his diaper changed, and even though there was no part of him that his brother hadn't already seen before, it was still probably the most embarrassing moment of his life. And Harry just had to remind him that it wouldn't be this bad if he simply chose to cooperate. He wondered why that blasted spell wasn't classified as an Unforgivable. It was every witch or wizard's nightmare, with no effective wand-based counter-curse. Harry could preach all he wanted, but at this moment, Dylan hated the Dark Arts.

"You don't mind the pain that accompanies nearly being slit in the throat but you can't handle me healing you? Now I see why healers get angry when patients refuse to cooperate." Harry shook his head in exasperation. "Don't blame me for this; after you kicked me for the fifth time, I wasn't going to take any chances. If you want to behave like a child, then that's how I'll treat you. Really, Dylan, I feel like a father trying to force his wayward, injured son to take his medicine!"

"Humph! You just voiced my thoughts. Why don't you go all out and de-age me into a three-month-old toddler? At least that way, I wouldn't have to die of embarrassment!"

"I'd repeat the words you, brother dear, said to me several months ago, when I was literally in the same situation as you are right now, but I doubt you'd care. Did I say anything when you and Daphne had to apply this on my body five times a day for weeks on end?"

Dylan made a noise of annoyance. "Actually, you did –"

"Fine, I did! But you know as well as I do that the pain is chronic and that there is no other method of healing you. It's only me and not a random stranger, so what's your problem?" Breathing heavily through his nose, he continued, "Listen, I've healed the cuts on your body and applied the salve wherever required, but we're still having you examined by a healer. No excuses."

"Like I have a choice in the matter, Dad," he shot back sarcastically. "I hope you can live with the fact that your only son hates you. Daphne is definitely my favourite parent, no comparison!"

Harry snorted, unable to hide a tired smile as he cancelled the partial Body-Bind Curse. He helped his brother lie down on his back and pressed a gentle kiss to the boy's forehead. "You'll get better soon, I promise. Stay here while I contact the D.M.L.E. We need to find out what's affecting my remote link to the wards."

Dylan sighed as he watched his brother activate the Floo network. What a way to start the holidays.

HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP

That morning, Potter Castle was swarming with Aurors, searching the grounds for other intruders and removing the dead bodies of the attackers from inside the castle. In the formal drawing room, Sirius Black was standing in the corner, his eyes bloodshot.

"How?" he asked again for what he felt like a millionth time.

"This instrument was used to get past the wards," said Harry grimly as he pointed at the broken silver instrument on the coffee table. "It had my blood powering it. The Death Eaters managed to freeze all the portraits, put the house-elves in an enchanted sleep, and then Apparated into the castle. I'm pretty sure they Apparated because there is no other way they could have bypassed the stone fortress or the moat around the castle. What that instrument is, I have no idea."

"They managed to use my blood against me to block my remote access to the wards. I could only access them from the control centre. We engaged the enemy and fought for a while, but Greyback was too fast. He managed to hold Dylan hostage; he nearly slit Dylan's throat in the process. Dylan managed to knock Greyback away from him and stabbed him in the chest with a dagger imbibed with basilisk venom. I then went forward and beheaded him. All sixteen of them were dead by the time we were done."

"Pack your bags, you'll be staying with us for the rest of the holidays," ordered Sirius. "I don't know what I was thinking, letting you boys stay alone last night. I must be losing my mind."

Harry and Dylan looked at each other and nodded slowly. They had been expecting this.

Sirius picked up the broken pieces of the silver instrument and looked at it critically. An hour later, he walked down a long corridor in the lowest level of the Ministry of Magic building. He entered the password on the rune plate outside the black door and once he was cleared, he placed his hand on the golden handle and swung the door open.

"I have something for you."

HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP

POTTER CASTLE ATTACKED!

Sixteen Death Eaters and Werewolves attacked Harry Potter and Dylan Lestrange

Siege foiled! All attackers killed by the two teenagers!

FENRIR GREYBACK KILLED!

Fenrir Greyback, notorious werewolf and international criminal stabbed in the chest by Dylan Lestrange and beheaded by Harry Potter!

Lord Potter and Minister Black tight-lipped about the attack!

Speculation rises about the secret defences of the ancestral home of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter

KIDNAPPING ATTEMPT OR SOMETHING MORE?

Lady Amelia Black assures everyone that Lord Potter and Heir Lestrange are safe and sound

Lord Voldemort threw the newspaper down in disgust. It hadn't worked! Why hadn't it worked? The ward inhibitor should have ensured that Harry was blind to the attack but apparently the boy was not as oblivious to the knowledge of wards like he had assumed. That had been a mistake.

He rolled his eyes at the drooling form of Peter Pettigrew. He had taken his anger out on the rat and Wormtail was so badly tortured that he was now permanently insane. He didn't care; it's not like the stupid rat was useful for anything.

A familiar jet of green light impacted Pettigrew, killing him instantly. Nagini slithered over for a feast.

"Not to worry, Rabastan. We will get them back. Once Harry and Dylan are here, they will not leave until they join us."

"Are you sure they will join us, my Lord?" asked Rabastan hesitantly.

Voldemort laughed coldly. "They will if they know what's good for them. They are too valuable for us to give up this soon. But first, bring Draco Malfoy before me. I have a new plan in place and the boy is testing my patience. I need him to succeed quickly should I put my plan in motion. Having to watch his parents get tortured should be enough motivation for the boy."

"Yes, my Lord," said Rabastan as he exited the throne room.

The Dark Lord was deep in thought. Yes, he would try to bring Harry to his side one last time. Normally, he would not have cared at all. The boy who had caused his downfall all those years ago should have been his enemy that he would have hated with every thought, but Harry wasn't like that. The boy was not what Lord Voldemort had expected.

Harry was so similar to how he himself had been at that age; it was surreal.

Similar, yet so different.

Voldemort knew that he was obsessed with the boy. True, he was immortal and did not need an heir because he would never die, but Harry was much more than that. Such power and knowledge should not be wasted. The boy also had a dark aura about him. Powerful, dangerous, intoxicating; only someone who had ritually increased his magical sensitivity would know about it.

Harry Potter would make an outstanding Death Eater, and his natural power would make the younger generation flock to him, and thus, to the Dark Lord. There were also other benefits. Harry was an international celebrity and his fame had spread throughout the international magical world after that attack in 1991. If the Boy-Who-Lived joined him, he, Lord Voldemort would be unstoppable. He would be able to move his campaign abroad, conquering territories one by one, leaving his personal assassin to maintain order.

There was something else which was nagging him. Harry had said that he did not hate him, but why so? He had killed the boy's parents, so why should the boy feel any sort of affection towards him? But if he did feel some sort of affection, why did he not accept the offer when he, Lord Voldemort, the most powerful Dark Lord in recent times, had offered to accept the boy as his son and heir? He knew that boy had been conflicted when he had mentioned it. He would need to get to the bottom of this mystery.

Bellatrix's eyes were burning with fury as she saw the large picture of Harry Potter and Dylan Lestrange on the front page of the newspaper.

Dylan Lestrange ... the constant reminder of her failure as Lady Lestrange and a wife was staring back at her, the grey eyes of the boy taunting her. Yet another reminder that she could not bear children and that a filthy Mudblood had given birth to the heir of House Lestrange.

HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP

Daphne hugged her fiancé tightly, tears flowing down her face. Her slim form was trembling as Harry hugged her back as he slowly stroked her hair.

"Daph, we're fine," said Harry softly. "We managed to overpower them."

"And what if you hadn't?" she whispered. "You and Dylan were nearly killed!"

"Actually, they were there to kidnap us, not kill."

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Daphne was still shivering when he pulled her in for a chaste kiss.

"Just promise me that you'll be more careful next time, please."

Harry smiled and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. "I promise," he replied, his warm breath tickling her ear.

Daphne buried her face in his chest, listening to his heartbeat as she reassured herself that he was indeed alive. It had been a close call. If Harry had not woken up when he felt that first disturbance, he wouldn't be here at all. Both of them refused to let go of each other, securely wrapped in each other's arms.

Her blue eyes were tinted white, glowing with barely suppressed rage. Daphne Greengrass was furious at what had transpired and her inner fire was burning like an inferno.

One day, she would deliver justice to those Death Eater bastards that had nearly killed Harry and Dylan. Voldemort and his minions were responsible for the sorrow of countless witches and wizards. Even if she had to train night and day in preparation, she would not rest until they were destroyed. Daphne vowed in the name of Mother Magic that the Death Eaters would learn the true meaning of pain before they were killed.

HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP

"Harry, Dumbledore wants to talk to you, he says it's urgent," Sirius called out as he entered Rigel's room at Black Manor.

"What does he want now?" Harry snapped irritably as he got up from the bed, his youngest brother nested in his arms, whose hair was dark blue and eyes his favourite shade of green.

"Maybe he'll continue with your lessons," Sirius smirked. "The attack must have given him an incentive to speed up his plans."

"Why doesn't he just say it outright and come clean about the Horcruxes?" asked Dylan, frowning. "It would be much easier for him to deal with, right?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I never expected him to do that. Dumbledore likes to keep his options open and he'll seek the best possible method of achieving his goals. He may be one hundred and fifty years old, but his mind is sharp as ever. I'm curious as to why he is dragging it on considering that his death is imminent, but we'll know sooner or later. Come on Dylan, let's go."

"Hawwy! Dylee!" Rigel cried. "No go! I wanna play!"

Harry smiled as he kissed the two-year-old boy on the forehead. "We'll be back in just a few hours, okay Rigel?" he said softly. "Now, you be good for Mum, alright? If you are, I'll show you the birdie eagle thing again."

"Yay!" Rigel cheered happily and all of them chuckled. Several minutes later, they walked out of the front gates of the manor. Dylan took Harry's arm as the latter turned on the spot and Disapparated silently.

"I still don't get how you can do it so silently," the younger teenager said as he adjusted to their new setting. They were back at Grimmauld Place, London. Number 12 was visible to them because they already knew the secret and they carefully walked up the front steps. Sirius tapped the handle with his wand and the front door opened. The house looked much cleaner now, and Harry and Dylan had to blink their eyes in shock at seeing that.

"You're surprised that everything is clean, huh?" asked Sirius wryly. "I was too. Kreacher apparently decided that any house belonging to the Blacks must be clean. Also, after the destruction of the locket, he got a rejuvenated sense of momentum. He's still the same and hates me and everyone here, but at least it's not as bad as it had been."

"The Weasleys are staying here then?" asked Harry softly as they moved towards the kitchen. Dylan stiffened immediately at hearing that.

"Yes," Sirius replied sadly. "They've taken it very hard, all of them. Molly is inconsolable and didn't stop crying for days. Bill is the new head of the family and he seems to be keeping things stable. I told them that they were welcome to stay at this house for as long as they liked ... well, at least until they could deal with the loss. I don't understand why the Death Eaters chose to attack at that time. It's like they knew that the Order members would be on patrol in the alley ..."

"What do you mean?" demanded Harry as he stopped them, tapping his locket to activate a stronger privacy charm.

"Well, from the Pensieve memories I have watched of the attack," said Sirius slowly, "I could make out that Rabastan knew they would meet resistance. While the others were busy blowing up the buildings, he was keeping an eye out for someone. That's when Arthur and Emmeline chose to attack."

"Snape," Harry said through gritted teeth. "Dumbledore would never listen to anyone when they tell that Snape is not working against Voldemort. He must have provided that information to Voldemort and Rabastan. Damn, it's like the first war all over again. Will Dumbledore ever learn from his mistakes?"

Sirius balled his hand into a fist angrily. Everyone in the Order, with Mad-Eye Moody being the most vocal of them, had protested against Snape's membership saying that they shouldn't trust him and yet Dumbledore would never hear a word against him! Why? With the state of the Wizengamot, he couldn't even be assured of a trial if he arrested Snape. Dumbledore and Voldemort pulling the strings would make it futile.

Something had to be done about Snape.

They entered the kitchen and saw everyone having dinner. The mood was dark and gloomy and Mrs Weasley was still sniffing in the corner as she prepared dinner. When the three of them entered, there was complete silence. Of course, there was no Dumbledore yet, so they had to wait. Fred and George got up to greet their friends, just as Harry and Dylan walked over to give them a hug. The shock was still too great as the twins began shaking, their sobs silent.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," whispered Dylan. "If there is anything I can do, please let me know."

George smiled slightly and shook his head. Suddenly, they heard the crash of falling utensils as someone shouted, "How can you let him in here?"

They all turned and saw Ron Weasley standing opposite to them, his face red with anger. "You guys are actually greeting him?" he yelled. "Him! The son of Rabastan Lestrange! The same Rabastan Lestrange who murdered Dad! And you're actually acting as though you're friends with him?"

"Ron, go to your room," said Bill quietly.

"No!" shouted Ron angrily. "I can't believe you would consort with the enemy! He is –"

"What am I?" asked Dylan quietly, holding a hand up to silence his brother and guardian. "What am I, Weasley?"

"A traitor! A murderer! The destroyer of families!" screamed Ron, furious tears streaming down his face.

"Ron, that's enough," said Bill firmly when he saw Sirius getting very upset and angry. "Think about what you're saying! Go to your room, now!"

"A traitor? A murderer? I destroy families?" asked Dylan, smiling grimly. "I'll accept all those accusations levelled against me if you can answer a few questions. Who did I betray to turn traitor?"

There were other members of the Order who had rushed into the kitchen now when they heard people shouting. Some were openly scowling at Dylan, but others were giving him wary looks.

"You betrayed us! How else would Dad have been killed?"

"I was at Hogwarts when the attack took place. I'm not a member of the Order of the Phoenix for me to even know that your father was on patrol in Diagon Alley, so how would I know that the Death Eaters were going to attack him? If that's your only theory of why I'm a traitor, then I'll humbly submit to you that I'm not. Next question, you called me a murderer. Have you ever seen me or even heard a rumour about me killing someone? Someone innocent, I mean. I have killed, yes, very recently in fact, but it was in self-defence when Death Eaters attacked our home. So, have I killed anyone innocent, Weasley?"

When Ron opened his mouth, he stopped, blinking in confusion and anger.

"I was not the one who murdered your father, Weasley," said Dylan, his grey eyes glowing eerily. The floor beneath him cracked under his rage. "As for destroying your family, would you still accuse me of that if I had not been carrying the name of Lestrange? What if I had gone by my mother's name instead? Would you and everyone else here and at Hogwarts still have suspected me? You all look at me as though I'm the one who betrayed you, but did it ever occur to you that I might be a victim of the deeds of Rabastan Lestrange as well?"

"Have you forgotten that my mother was raped by my father and I was born as a result? My mother died just an hour after giving birth to me. I've never had a family, Weasley, unlike you who is surrounded by people who love you. My mother only named me a Lestrange out of spite, to make my father realise that he had sired a bastard child, a half-blood at that. What do you think my father, uncle or aunt would do if I ever run into them? Do you think there would be hugs and tears that is expected of a family reunion?"

"I would be killed in an instant for daring to take the Lestrange name," he said frostily, his voice rising steadily as his anger got the best of him. "The family that prides themselves in being purebloods for more than a thousand years now has an heir apparent who is a half-blood and a bastard to boot. How did I destroy your family, Weasley? How am I in any way responsible for what happened to your father? Why does everyone blame me for my father's actions? Let me repeat myself – I have never met him! I was born and grew up in a Muggle orphanage. It was only on my eleventh birthday that I even knew who my parents were. Not once have I contacted him or have even wanted to contact him. Do you want to know why?"

Dylan walked over to Harry and Sirius and grabbed their arms.

"Because this is my true family! These people knew whose son I was and still took me into their home with no expectations. For all they knew I could have been a damaged, wayward child, but they still took me in. They provided a roof over my head, food to eat and education at the most prestigious school in Magical Britain. They weren't obligated to do any of that and could have easily sent me back to the orphanage, but they didn't."

"Harry, Harry, someone who is as emotionally detached as Harry Potter accepted me as his brother and showered me with love and affection. Uncle Sirius and Aunt Amelia did not have to treat me and look after me like their own son, but they did. They're my family. I'm sorry that you have lost your father, Weasley, but at least you had a chance to know him. I never knew my parents. One is dead and the other would kill me the second I face him. Both of them never wanted me. At least your father loved you, your mother and siblings love you. I can understand your grief, but I won't be able to stand any more accusations against me. I hope you realise that I am human too and I also have a limit beyond which I snap. Don't push me."

There was pin-drop silence in the kitchen as everyone looked at their feet, feeling a twinge of guilt. Sirius squeezed Dylan's shoulder comfortingly but the expression on his face showed that he was very angry and upset. They heard someone clear their throat and turned to find Dumbledore at the door.

"No one is accusing you, my boy," said Dumbledore quietly. "I hope you can forgive young Ronald for his words. He is still quite grief-stricken over what happened."

"I understand, Professor," Dylan replied, though Harry could see a blazing inferno in his grey eyes; clearly, he was furious. Magic was rolling off his body and his aura flared as Dylan struggled to regain control of his emotions. "It is only for that reason that I'm still calm and haven't drawn my wand. Uncle Sirius, may I be excused?"

"Of course Dylan," Sirius said softly as he watched the boy leave the kitchen.

Mentally he was kicking himself for not expecting such a reaction from the others. Knowing that the boy needed comfort when his emotions this volatile, he excused himself too. Both of them soon exited the house and Apparated back to Black Manor. Dylan did not want to stay at Headquarters for another minute and Sirius was very much willing to take him back home.

"Harry, I think it is time we adjourned to our meeting," said Dumbledore, leading him out of the kitchen.

Harry pursed his lips and schooled his expression to an impassive mask as always. He sent a fleeting look at Ron Weasley – who was looking anywhere but at him – and followed the headmaster out. He could understand Weasley's grief, but as Dylan said, there was only so much the boy could handle before he blew up. And Harry wouldn't have blamed his little brother in the slightest if he had.

Harry and Dumbledore entered the drawing room and closed the door. The headmaster flicked his wand and extracted the Pensieve which he had brought with him as he smiled at the teen.

"I'm happy that you and young Dylan are safe, my boy," said Dumbledore, though he looked quite tired. "It is for this reason that I kept urging you to stay with Petunia, but you never listened." With a sigh, he continued, "But what's done is done. Before we begin, I was hoping to take a look at that device which Voldemort used to crack an opening in the wards. Could you please show it to me?"

"I can't give it to you, sir. It's destroyed. Voldemort must have done it remotely. After all, if he could use my blood to block my control of the wards around Potter Castle, I could do the same to counter his hold of any protective enchantments placed around his headquarters."

"I see," Dumbledore muttered, looking at the boy with piercing blue eyes. "I hope you aren't lying, Harry, because that device is very dangerous in the wrong hands."

"I don't lie," said Harry sharply.

Dumbledore observed him critically but let the subject drop. "So Harry, I assume you remember the tale of Tom Riddle from where we left off the last time?"

"Yes sir. You went to the orphanage to offer him a place as a student at Hogwarts."

He listened attentively as Dumbledore continued to talk about Tom Riddle's days at Hogwarts, but Harry had known about all this. He knew that Tom had been devastated and angry when he found out that his father was not a wizard and that his mother, the same mother who had died rather than take care of him was actually a witch. Harry was sure that this anger, coupled with his childhood experiences in Muggle London during the Second World War, having to brave the Blitz, was what made him research Horcruxes.

He might admire the young Tom Riddle for many things, but some of Tom's choices really disgusted Harry, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets for one, and also the creation of his Horcruxes. That was when the intelligent young man that was Tom Riddle had transformed into the power-hungry, insane Lord Voldemort who was hell-bent on destroying the world for what had been denied to him. Harry doubted Voldemort himself recognised the changes he underwent. There was hardly anything left of Tom Riddle in Voldemort today. Tom was never a saint, but then again, neither was Harry.

Harry was quite impressed with the Legilimency skills Dumbledore needed to uncover that memory from the mind of Morfin Gaunt and from the mind of that old house-elf. He remembered both those memories too. The first was the time when Tom had killed his father and grandparents. The second was when he had killed the old woman, Hepzibah Smith, and had stolen Hufflepuff's Cup and Slytherin's locket. Finally, Harry blinked in surprise when Dumbledore revealed a memory of Horace Slughorn that not only mentioned the word 'Horcrux' but also revealed that Riddle was intrigued by the concept of seven Horcruxes. It was a memory that Harry remembered but never considered that important. But to someone like Dumbledore, who didn't have access to the location of each Horcrux, the information could very well be monumental.

"He wanted to create seven Horcruxes," said Harry quietly as they emerged from the Pensieve.

"Yes," said Dumbledore as he sat down on the sofa tiredly. "This is an extremely important memory, Harry; perhaps the most important memory I have ever collected. It shows how far we have come and what more is to be done to defeat Lord Voldemort. You may have destroyed the diary and I, the ring, but that still leaves four more Horcruxes of a seven-part soul. Thankfully, we've already identified what two of those Horcruxes could be – Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket, which Tom Riddle stole from Hepzibah Smith. Finding out where Voldemort has hidden them will be a challenge."

"Understood," said Harry stiffly.

"Also, I must ask you again to not divulge this information to anyone," said Dumbledore firmly. "Not even to your godfather, Harry, because I hope you understand the magnitude of what I have just shown you. If Voldemort gets wind of the fact that we're threatening his Horcruxes, the devices that secure his immortality, the consequences would be too dire for me to even contemplate."

Harry paused for a few seconds and gave another respectful nod. Dumbledore seemed satisfied. Too bad Albus Dumbledore did not know that Sirius already knew about the Horcruxes.