Chapter 20 The Battle of Stonehenge

Voldemort was as happy as he ever could get. He had forty-two marked death eaters, and thirty-one dementors, with control talismen. Most of his more dedicated followers had come through Azkaban with their mind ... functional, and perhaps, a bit more zealous. Seventeen of the prisoners released from prison were unwilling to be loyal death eaters, and they became target practice for unforgivables. There was one escapee, who left shortly after the boat reached land. Lucius didn't know who it was, or when it happened, but the head count didn't match when they returned to the warehouse they were hiding in. More prisoners probably could have escaped, if they had thought of it. It would have been the best option for the ones who became target practice. Escape was no longer possible for them. Malfoy was not really prepared to handle all of the people he released, when they returned to shore.

Lucius Malfoy sat, thinking about the next few months. He was in Voldemort's good graces today. That meant he didn't really need to worry about the cruciatus threat that was ever present with Voldemort ... today. On the surface, their leader was the same person he always was, but the consummate Slytherin knew better than that. Voldemort had been reborn a different person, with an extremely short temper. Voldemort's defeat at the hands of the Potters, and subsequent dozen some years of limbo, changed the Dark Lord. It did not help that the one who apparently defeated him, was one year old. Dumbledore claimed the Dark Lord's defeat could be attributed to the boy, a mere babe, and the Dark Lord could not refute that information. That made no sense at all to the self-styled tyrant. The Dark Lord could have accepted the defeat at the hands of Dumbledore, even James Potter, but not a one year old.

The death eaters weren't so cock sure either. Hell, Lucius himself had doubts, that he dare not voice. Lucius would not have minded if Voldemort had stayed in limbo, for several reasons. He was close, politically, with the Minister of Magic, and he probably had as much influence as if he had been Minister himself. Hell, this was even better than being Minister, since he could disavow any negative publicity. Voldemort wanted Lucius to move so fast, the delicate balance would be upset. He dare not entertain even the THOUGHTS of doubts concerning Voldemort's agenda, in the presence of the Dark Lord. His largest problem would probably be this person called The Archer. Lucius knew that he was likely to be assigned to neutralize that threat again. The last time cost him what felt like half a day under the cruciatus. Hopefully, one of the newly released prisoners would be given the task of eliminating The Archer, and Lucius could focus on the Ministry.

The Archer was an enigma. He seemed to work alone, or with the Order. No, not with them, but following them. The Archer had no pattern. He attacked in the day time, the night time, at a death eater's home, or in Diagon Alley. He didn't even appear to contact the death eaters he killed. Further, the person was ruthless. Lucius knew a stunned man had been killed, and yet another killed in the presence of an auror. There was a new player. Not the Ministry. Not the Order. Lucius had an auror escort anytime he wanted it, but he wasn't at all sure that escort would be effective in scaring off the Archer. He didn't leave his property, unless he was shielded against arrows.

Harry was on patrol, and he had new readings for his mental map. He went to investigate one. He found a man in Yorkshire waiting in the back yard of a modest sized farm. Just before the bolt hit, the man made a quick movement to the left. The bolt lodged under his left shoulder blade. He had stumbled into the house before Harry could let loose another. Harry was disappointed. This would have been a kill, if he had used a poisoned bolt. He felt pretty stupid, really. He wasn't short of basilisk venom. Harry flew on to another. He caught him coming out of a house with a poisoned bolt, dead center in the sternum. That target would have been killed, regardless of the venom. Harry made a third shot that afternoon. He had a lot more targets to choose from, and some of these were making it easy for him.

Harry searched into the night, but no targets were in the open. He decided to head to the foot of Ginny's bed, and he was there a bit earlier than usual, when he made it at all. He averaged a visit three or four times a week. She was sitting in an arm chair by her bed, reading. Harry hopped up on the arm, and stretched out. Ginny started scratching him lightly behind the ear.

"Hi Ginny," said Harry, as he started their silent conversation. "How was your day?"

"OK, nothing unusual," she replied. "I am looking forward to warmer weather. I can go swimming in the wet suit, but it isn't as enjoyable, as when it is warmer. May is still way better than now. Besides, it's more fun when you are there. What have you been up to?"

"I spent last night at home," said Harry, "and spent several hours in the workshop in the Chamber. I went hunting for a while, and came up here. How is Luna and Hermione?"

"I can tell you had a good hunt," said Ginny. "It's partly the flying, isn't it? You fly, while you are hunting, like a hawk. I am looking forward to getting out of here, after exams. Luna has been busy with Hagrid and Sirius. Hermione is in full cram mode, for her OWLs. Atch went over to where she was reading earlier, and I thought she was going to jump out of her skin. Atch took off like a shot, and ran up my brother's back. They are looking forward to being out of school. One wouldn't know, by looking at them, that they have NEWTs. I may be going nuts this time next year, but I am ready for normal exams." Ginny went back to reading, and Harry took a light nap on the chair arm. Same old shite, different day.

Voldemort, on the other hand, was barely coherent, in a meeting with his ten inner circle members. "Just how did two previously unmarked people get killed tonight?" he yelled. "A third is downstairs healing, and I have the bolt in my hands. I KEEP LOSING PEOPLE TO MUGGLE WEAPONS! ARE YOU IDIOTS WIZARDS? How does he find my people? Do I have a traitor in my midst?" No one dared say a word.

"Bella," said Voldemort. "I have forty death eaters. I want eight cells made, each with a leader from the inner circle. Each of you will be responsible for your assigned people. Pass the word. If one of the assigned people dies by one of these bolts, the leader responsible for that person will WISH it had been them."

"Rastaban," he continued, "your task is to get the Archer. At least find out who in the bloody hell he is."

"Lucius," said Voldemort, "wiggle in close to Fudge, and find out what they know about the Archer. Use every means at your disposal."

Harry was surprised the next day. He had seen his targets go underground before, but not this completely. None of them were outside a building, so he couldn't stalk for an opportunity. He spent a leisurely day flying and apparating from spot to spot. A week passed, with no change. The only people he was actually seeing, were in Diagon Alley, or in its offshoot, Knockturn Alley.

If Harry was going to hunt in Diagon Alley, he had to get close to his target. A miss could harm someone innocent, and that was not an option. He would be so close, he couldn't possibly miss his target, so he dosed a few of his small target needles with venom. With a special harness for his small flying form, armed with a dozen needles, he went to Diagon Alley to wait. He knew many of his targets by sight. The second day, he saw one leave the Leaky Cauldron with an auror escort. They went into a clothing store. Harry flew over to the overhanging roof of the next store, and waited. Thirty minutes later, they came out. As luck would have it, his mark stopped outside, to discuss the next destination with his escort. Harry was about eight feet away from his target, and three feet higher. The needle hit the man's neck, right below the ear, and slid under the skin. The target could not have been easier, for a wandless strike in his feline form.

The man slapped his neck. "Ow, what was that?" he asked. "BLOODY HELL! WHAT IS THAT! Am I on fire?" The target collapsed as Harry was quietly gaining altitude, in wide circles. The auror escort was agitated, looking around. The three portkeyed away. 'That worked pretty good,' thought Harry.

He went to Knockturn Alley after dark, using a form large enough to hold his tracking stone. It started following a person Harry had never noticed before. It didn't matter much, since he trusted the stone implicitly now. He floated down the street, silent as a butterfly. He caught him with a needle in the cheek, as he was walking into one of the seedier bars. Good job, again. The needles were practically invisible, they were so small. It made a huge commotion, and aurors showed up in no time. Harry watched from quite a distance, with his rather good eyes. He made his way back to Gryffindor Tower.

DMLE was in an uproar. Fudge was red in the face.

"Bones," said Fudge tersely. "Tell me how one of your protected escorts was killed today, in broad daylight. Further more, tell me how one of the escapees from Azkaban gets killed in Knockturn Alley, under polyjuice. He turned back in St. Mungo's just before he died."

"I have no details, Minister," said Bones. "This must be the work of the Archer, and he is good. Too bloody good, if you ask me. We can't match his work. He has to have inside information. It's one thing to kill one of the older marked men ... who had no schedule, by the way, but quite another to get one of the escaped convicts ... who happened to be marked. He wasn't marked, in Azkaban. The Archer's spy network must be incredible. He has to have people inside the Ministry, as well as in Voldemort's camp. The Archer is taking this very seriously."

"Do we really care if he kills Azkaban escapees," asked retired auror Moody. "They are going to get the Azkaban kiss, when we get them. No one teaches CONSTANT VIGILANCE in the Auror Corps any more. People on my watch never got killed." He was asked to come to the meeting, because of his years of experience chasing death eaters. Albus Dumbledore was in attendance, because of his position on the Wizengamut, but he planned to say nothing, unless directly asked. Albus wished Moody would shut up.

"He is making a mockery of the Ministry," said Fudge. "I want Unspeakables assigned to finding the Archer. What in the hell is he killing people with now?"

"We don't know yet what he has mixed in it," said Madam Bones. "It has the characteristics of several potent venoms, and more. St. Mungo's doesn't know if they have a cure for it, or if they could get to the victim in time to counter act it. This stuff is deadly. The needle can't be touched with bare hands, and it melts into the flesh, after time. It destroys tissue at the cellular level. We are just lucky the healers know enough not to touch such a thing. Every auror must be told. We should make a public announcement."

"I am not putting this in the Prophet," said Fudge. "This Archer makes us look like idiots. We can't protect anyone, and he kills our escaped prisoners before we can even catch them. Raise the bounty on him. Money will flush him out. Bloody Hell!"

Meantime, Voldemort was reaming his people. "One of my inner circle is killed in the middle of the day, in Diagon Alley," he seethed. "Even we can't even manage to do that, with out losing a death eater or two. Lucius, what have you found out?"

"The Ministry knows absolutely nothing," said Malfoy. "The average person could retire, with his entire family, on the bounty they are offering now."

"They want the Archer, more than they want me?" asked Voldemort.

"No, my Lord," said Lucius. "You are still designated 'Kill On Sight', with a probable Order of Merlin, First Class, but they want him badly."

"How did he kill one of my polyjuiced couriers?" asked Voldemort. "How many people knew, Rastaban?"

"Just you, my Lord, and myself," said Lestrange. "as well as the people he was meeting."

"Dig into the situation deeply, Rastaban," said Voldemort, "if you value your skin. He was one of yours. This Archer is making it difficult for my people to go anywhere. The person who finds this Archer, and kills him, will be greatly rewarded. The one who brings him to be ALIVE, will be exalted, second only to myself. I will skin the Archer, and simmer him in salt water. He will beg for death." He paused for a few moments, and yelled, "Crucio!" Lestrange rolled on the floor for a couple minutes.

Voldemort saw three members of his inner circle in the corner, having a quiet conversation. No one really wanted to get too close to one of his interrogations. "You three," he said, "come here. I have a job for you. I want to shake things up a bit. This is what you will do." The three were listening intently.

Harry spent the night with Ginny, in Gryffindor Tower, and left before she went down to breakfast. School was over, for the summer, and the students were going home. Harry loaded up for a long hunt, and flew out over Hogsmeade. He watched the Hogwarts Express fill up, as he circled high up in the air. His wings made virtually no movement. He noticed a group of targets in the direction of the tracks for the Hogwarts Express, not too many miles away. This put him in attack mode immediately, as this was out of pattern for his targets. It didn't take many short jumps for him to jump past the death eaters lying in wait. Harry doubled back, and started circling. Vultures couldn't do a better job than Harry did, on a stalk. The stone pointed out where his targets were. He didn't think it was likely they would expose themselves, before they stopped the train. He would wait, so more targets would present themselves. The death eaters would be focused on attacking their own targets, leaving themselves wide open. It would be like shooting targets in Xavier's training room. An observer might have laughed, if it wasn't so somber. Harry made ready to shoot several bolts, as the train approached.

Voldemort had three squads on this job. They had orders to kill the aurors, and as many of the muggle born as they could, before escaping. None of his death eaters would be a casualty ... just like the old days. Voldemort wanted to make a splash, to gain some momentum, to show that he was an unstoppable force. He wanted to start recruiting.

Harry was practically on top of the ones on the east side of the train. He killed five, as fast as he could fire the darts. It wasn't quick, but the death eaters were extremely busy with aurors, who had good position on the train. No one was guarding them, from a rear attack, and they were not shielding for solid projectiles. The aurors in the cab of the train were killed, as Harry's targets were shot in the back of their neck. He wasn't taking any chance on armor, and he was close enough that he couldn't miss with his wandless shots. Rather than pull more bolts, Harry flapped his wings to gain a bit of momentum. A couple death eaters were moving into position to attack further down the train. Harry broke their necks in a blur, batting their heads sideways with a huge paw. The death eaters couldn't fight on two fronts, so they portkeyed out, in a panic School children were watching, with wide eyes. The aurors from further back in the train were looking for the death eaters to return. It had been a practice used years earlier. Aurors would stand down after a fight, and get caught unaware, as death eaters returned to fight again. Harry shot the two the death eaters aurors had stunned in the legs, before gaining altitude to watch. The venom would do its job. More people portkeyed in, at the front of the train. They were Ministry personnel, and they cleared the tracks. The train was sent on, as soon as it was possible to do so.

There was the usual DMLE meeting, but Minister Fudge was abnormally quiet, staring at the report in front of him. The Hogwarts Express had been successfully stopped, and two aurors were killed. A couple others had minor injuries.

"Minister Fudge," said Madam Bones. "The Archer apparently saved us from a catastrophe. Two of the nine dead death eaters were on your 'Protected Escort' list. What does that say about the others?"

"Bring all of the exonerated men in immediately, for evaluation by healers," said Fudge. "It looks like the imperious curse again. Your orders are to stun them on sight. Use Hit Wizard shield teams. Bring these people in."

"Minister Fudge," said a hooded man, his face concealed, in the rear of the room. "I listened to aurors question the children who witnessed the attack on the train. It would seem the two death eaters with broken necks were killed by a disillusioned beast. They have at least one attack animal, and it is capable of flight. It could be a griffin, as it is large, but probably not a dragon It didn't use claws, so it is not likely a hippogriff. Griffins are damned difficult to train, and it is unlikely to be a sphinx. The Archer has no fear of aurors, and he always attacks in the open."

"What are you saying?" asked Madam Bones.

"The Archer always attacks from the air, and has flying beasts," said the unknown individual. "He has some means of invisibility, probably some kind of disillusionment. He is spelled for stealth, and has only the termination of death eaters as a focus. It would appear he did not try to save the aurors, but rather, just picked off the death eaters as quickly as possible. You should plan accordingly, if you want to catch the Archer. Personally, I would leave him alone. He ONLY attacks marked death eaters. He is probably a professional killer, on someone's personal payroll. This person likely works on a bounty, as he kills stunned men after aurors have apprehended them."

That statement sobered everyone up. "I don't want word of this possibility to leave this room," said Fudge. "The last thing I want in the British Isles, are bounty hunters."

"Haven't you posted a bounty on the Archer?" asked Bones.

"That's different," said Fudge. "Our reward is for information leading to the arrest, and conviction, of the person known as the Archer."

Voldemort couldn't talk. He walked deep into his quarters, and stayed there for hours. He had killed the two messengers himself. Twenty-seven death eaters left. When he came out, he called for Rookwood.

"I want a large dementor attack," said Voldemort. "I have thirty-one dementors, and I haven't fed them properly yet. I want you to attack Hogsmeade, with fifteen dementors, and kill as many people as you can. Feed my dementors well, and wipe Hogsmeade off the map. Those not killed, will flee Hogwarts magical village. The wizarding world WILL feel my presence, and surrender to me."

Draco Malfoy was in his room, two days after returning from the station in London, reading a letter. Adrenaline was surging through his veins. He read it for the fifth time.

A Letter To My Son

The Dark Lord is starting to make hasty decisions, which I think will lead to failure. If events play out as I think they might, you must carry on the Malfoy legacy. You will insist my mind has been ... controlled by outside forces.

The Dark Lord is indeed powerful, but he is insane, thinking he can just pick up where he was when he was stopped by the Potters. He has an unrealistic opinion of his ability to seize power. He was different, years ago. He has not returned, as he was before. His defeat has ... changed him. He is not rebuilding political foundations. He acts like he was never gone, and he is not as successful. He demonstrates no Slytherin patience.

The Dark Lord's people are being systematically exterminated by an unknown organization, the extent of which, is unknown. I joined the Dark Lord's organization years ago, when it appeared he was unstoppable. There is no possible withdrawal for me.

Do not contact me about this, as I will obliviate myself of all knowledge of this letter. The Dark Lord is an expert at legilemency. Protect yourself at all times, even from me. I don't know what demands the Dark Lord may make, as his organization struggles.

We can only discuss this at some distant point in the future, should the Dark Lord persevere. He would kill me, for my doubts, but the Malfoy name must continue.

Carry on, my son. Burn this letter immediately, as soon as it leaves your hands.

Draco Malfoy walked into the family library, deep in thought. He had spent the last few months in diligent study. He really wasn't ready for this. He had just finished his OWLs.

Harry spent several hours a day, hunting for targets. He was having no success what so ever, finding a death eater that made a viable target. That was OK. He would keep hunting.

He flew over the Burrow most days, in the afternoon. Three days after the attack on the train, Harry noticed Ginny, Luna, and Hermione making a gazebo, out by the pond. He walked in, to join them.

"Hi Harry," said Ginny. "I was hoping you might join us. Mum is hoping you will come back, now and then. She said she won't be contacting Dumbledore again. She has been talking to Aunt Arabella, and Mum is convinced you are safe with the kneazles."

"It's a crying shame you don't feel safe at school," said Hermione. "What are you going to do?"

"After Voldemort is dealt with, I think I can get an apprenticeship," said Harry. "I will apply for training at St. Mungo's as well. I just have to wait, and lie low."

"Are you going to work with Headmaster Dumbledore concerning the prophecy we read about?" asked Hermione.

"He's not done anything yet," replied Harry. "Why would he start now? He just wants me back in school, and we have seen he can't protect me from the Ministry. Xavier told me they want me on a Hit Wizard team, primarily for political reasons. Nothing will stop them from picking me up at Hogwarts, so I CAN'T go to Hogwarts. I don't want to be the Ministry's poster boy. They would put me in a little box. They wouldn't call it a protective custody, but it would be just that. I am already a regular in the paper and magazines. What are they going to let a fifteen-year old boy do? After Umbridge, I really don't trust them. Here, I am free."

"You just can't sit, and do nothing," said Hermione. "Knowledge is 'Use it, or Lose it'."

"I read and practice," said Harry. "The only thing good to come out of the Tournament was my NEWT's. I am not going to let my magical ability atrophy. I just have to be careful where I practice. Xavier's wards are pretty good, and the property is huge. I have several good hiding places."

"What do you think of the prophecy?" asked Hermione. "Are you important in stopping Voldemort?"

"Well, the prophecy said 'Neither can live, while the other survives', so it has to be over. We are both alive," said Harry. "I have talked to several people, and it is likely accidental magic somehow stopped him the first time. It had to be, didn't it?"

"So, it just caught Voldemort by surprise?" asked Hermione. "Why wasn't he gone permanently?"

"That is the hundred galleon question," said Harry. "You read a lot. What do you think?"

"Necromancy," said Hermione. "It's the only thing that makes sense. The Department of Mysteries will be the ones to stop a necromancer." She could tell Harry agreed with some, or all of her statement. She really liked the ability to tell a person's emotional state, when having conversations.

"Harry, give me a hand with the roof," said Ginny. "In a few minutes, we can go swimming, or run around as cats. Mum doesn't care if we are cats, as long as we stay inside the wards. She didn't give Ron any shite about being a cat. I guess I cut the rut there. Mum wasn't surprised Ron learned at school. Wait until she finds out about the twins."

"Molly thought our animagus ability was a unique, and safe way to entertain ourselves during the holidays," said Hermione. "She doesn't care if we are cats, as long as we stay on the property. Ginny knows where the boundaries are. Dogs are the only problem for cats in the area, and there aren't many roaming the area."

"The attack on the train was scary," said Luna, looking at Harry pointedly. "I am glad someone was helping the Ministry."

"What do you mean?" asked Ginny. "You think someone else was there?"

"Yeah," said Luna. "Just from the way they were acting. They gave Daddy the run around, for interviews. He thinks the Archer was involved." Harry was just quietly working on the roof.

"The Archer is working with the Ministry?" asked Hermione.

"No," said Luna. "Daddy thinks he just followed them. They have too big a bounty on him."

"Why don't we hear more about the Archer?" asked Hermione.

"The Ministry is squashing it," said Luna. "They really don't like vigilantes."

"I can see that, social anarchy, and all," said Hermione. "It's getting hot. Want to go swimming?"

Harry was flying over Liverpool a week later, when Rookwood's group attacked Hogsmeade. The stone registered the large group of death eaters, and Harry left to meet them. A few buildings were starting to burn, and dementors were wreaking havoc. Harry lost no time in starting to dart them, and they were very large, relatively slow moving targets. He was hitting one every thirty seconds, and the dementors started to flee almost immediately. Harry chased them quite some distance out of town, and killed every one. The last few had scattered, but they were easy to spot, from the air. The dementors were completely without wizard support, since no death eaters expected they would need protected.

Aurors had collected eight stunned death eaters, and Harry bolted two, before someone put up a solid shield. The people of Hogsmeade had actually put up a decent fight, after the dementors left. The average citizen usually cowered, and tried to escape, but many shop owners fought side by side. Four other death eaters were killed by town's people ... two were bludgeoned to death physically.

Twenty-nine Hogsmeade people were dead ... men, women, and children. Over a hundred were seriously injured, and the attack had been stopped quickly ... after something chased off the dementors. The town's people were talking about the Archer, because two death eaters had been killed by bolts. They knew how lucky they were to survive a major attack, with dementors. Hogsmeade attributed their survival to the Archer, without having any good evidence that he killed the dementors. Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, stunning one before the others fled, but the Archer would not be forgotten ... for a long time.

There was an emergency meeting of the Wizengamut. The six captured death eaters were Azkaban escapees. That, in itself, earned them the dementor's kiss. Participation in the Hogsmeade attack would have done it also, if for nothing else, the dead children. The trial didn't take long, with veritas serum confessions. Following the quick trial, the Wizengamut proclaimed a 'Kill On Sight' order, for robed death eaters.

The convicted men were led to a room deep in the Ministry, where a dementor waited. Aurors closed the door, and locked it. A dementor keeper came back an hour later, for the dementor.

Albus Dumbledore called a meeting of the Order. "I want to thank those of you who were able to help with the recent attack on Hogsmeade. It was bad, but it could have been much worse. It would seem the mysterious Archer was able to foil the attack on the Hogwarts Express, as well as assist immensely at the Hogsmeade attack. He is apparently the one who kills dementors near Hogsmeade. No one knows how he manages to kill them. The person remains effectively brutal. It is the opinion of the Ministry that he kills death eaters, regardless of those they threaten, and regardless of whether they are in custody, or not. Does anyone have any idea of who this person might be, or who they work for? Does anyone know of any bounties out, for death eaters?"

Moody spoke up, after a few moments of silence. "Why do we care?" he said. "There hasn't been a single instance of injury to any bystanders. This person, and his organization, has done more to eliminate the threat of Voldemort, than anyone ... including us."

"I live in Hogsmeade now," said Sirius. "Word is, in the pubs, the town would like to erect a statue for the Archer, but they have no idea what to put up."

"I will not let this person be made into a hero, so close to the school," said Dumbledore. "There will be no statue for the Archer. He may be the reason Voldemort has stepped up his recent attacks, to show he is still a force to be feared. We don't want to back Voldemort into a corner."

"If that's the case," said Hagrid, "Vol .. You-Know-Who fell flat on his arse."

"Thirty-one people have been killed in Voldemort's attacks," said Dumbledore. "Dozens were injured. We don't want Voldemort to be desperate. He is incredibly dangerous, and we must try to quietly contain him."

"The Dark Lord does seem to be under stress," said Severus Snape. "He has lost easily half of his manpower, and is having trouble recruiting. He is not known for his patience. He hasn't even mentioned Potter."

"Harry Potter is well hidden, at the moment," said Dumbledore.

"Why didn't someone tell me there is a person in Hogsmeade who knows how to kill dementors!" yelled Voldemort. He wanted to scream at Rookwood, but he had been one of the two people bludgeoned to death by villagers. He lost twelve more death eaters. He had fifteen death eaters left, and sixteen dementors. Bella had been beaten badly in Hogsmeade, and was recovering. Severus had been sent to distract Dumbledore, but he hadn't been able to for very long. Hogsmeade might as well have been on Hogwarts property. Pettigrew was expert, at staying alive.

Voldemort had one more ritual to complete, to come to full power, as he had been before the Potter debacle, and that had to happen at Stonehenge, on the Autumnal Equinox, in about three months. He decided there better not be any more setbacks, before then. He had the dementors sent out to forage, away from wizarding areas, where they would remain unseen. They would not be allowed to kill any muggles ... yet. He couldn't stand to lose any more resources.

Harry tried to spend time with the girls in the afternoon, when they were out. It was easy to fly over the Burrow, to see if they were out, and about. The girls thought the gazebo was a great place to read, and spend the summer. It was a pleasant distraction from his full time job of hunting and target practice. Neville and Ron didn't get too far from the green houses. They were making good money.

Harry visited the Flamels, from time to time, but he never really stopped watching his tracking stone. Harry spent the majority of his time in the air, and he really enjoyed it. He became very familiar with the British Isles, the main island, in particular. He occasionally drifted over to Ireland, just for a change of scenery, but he hadn't seen much death eater activity over there.

Harry spent time with his family every day. Once in a while, one of his brothers or sisters would fly with him, in his modified saddle bags. It didn't hurt any, to have extra eyes in the air. As it turns out, having his siblings with him from time to time was not a factor in his hunting, since a target never presented itself when they were with him. He would have liked to have had Ginny with him occasionally, but she couldn't leave the property without her mum's clock giving her away. Besides that, he knew she wasn't a hunter. She liked to ride, but hunting would bore her to tears. Harry didn't get bored. He would review his knowledge of magic while he flew, his eyes always scanning. What Harry did, while he flew, could be considered a type of meditation. Harry would hunt, as long as it took, to get the job done.

Harry could recognize the death eaters by sight, and he knew where each of them lived. If he couldn't see their house, he still knew their area. He became so good at following them, he knew who was where, just by which ones were missing from their normal location. Sixty to eighty hours a week in the air, following ones quarry tends to make one quite good at it. He did not get impatient, because a good shot didn't present itself. He would not follow them into their den. He watched, always watching, always waiting for the good opportunity. The death eaters were scared, and they made an effort to be indoors.

Voldemort knew he had a dedicated enemy in Britain, and he didn't plan to leave the old manor house he was staying at, until his last enhancement ritual. He wanted to get recruitment started again, but England was not a fertile place for recruitment, at this time. He called for Dolohov.

"Anton, I want you to take your team to Germany," said Voldemort. "You should be able to get a dozen people from the Durmstrang alumni. Socialize among your contacts there, and see how many people you can get to join our cause. I know there are several families over there who are receptive to the supremacy of blood purity, that will form our new aristocracy ."

"As you wish, my Lord," said Dolohov. He was only too happy to leave England for a while. It wasn't safe in England. He took three people with him.

Harry noticed the change almost immediately, and set out to follow. He was in Germany for a week, before he had what he thought was his best opportunity to attack death eaters. Dolohov was at some sort of festival, and his people were in the thick of working the Dark Lord's message. Several young people were excited, to think they could be part of a pure blood revolution.

Harry knew from watching, that Dolohov was in charge. He targeted him first, for a needle, and Harry found him sitting alone, deep in thought. The needle entered his cheek, and no one heard his startled yell. Harry had a pretty good dose on it, and soon it appeared as if the man was sleeping. Harry flew on to the others, and found another solitary marked target taking to several young men. The needle in his neck caused quite a bit of excitement. Several people came running to give the guy some assistance. The men that had arrived in Germany with him were not remotely expecting an Archer attack, and came forward without concern. Harry needled the third man, and the fourth one finally got a clue. He erected a solid shield, and lost no time getting under cover. Harry watched him go, and didn't even try the shot. There were too many people walking around, and Harry wasn't going to try for a moving target. Ten minutes later, there were no death eaters in Germany. Harry started winging west. He almost got them all.

Voldemort was so worried, he couldn't be angry. Someone continued to whittle away his organization. Twelve death eaters remained, and recruitment was impossible. Letting his people out in the open eventually got them killed. He wished he could do the last few months over, since he had severely underestimated the threat of the Archer. Dumbledore had been an irritant before, but never a real threat to his rise to power. His stupid death eaters let muggle weapons kill them. Why hadn't they understood they had to have a solid shield up, at all times? Wasn't it obvious? Apparently, it wasn't. They were too complacent, with DMLE and even Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. Money and political power would always get them out of serious trouble. They didn't expect someone to simply kill them, with no questions asked.

His death eaters had been well placed in society, and it was incomprehensible to him that the Archer's organization had been able to stay quiet, and out of sight. Someone ALWAYS bragged over a pint ... well, not this time. His scheduled ritual in September would increase his magical power half again. He would do nothing more, until the ritual was complete. Then, he would personally take care of this Archer problem, with consummate pleasure.

Harry spent the next month and a half without any hunting success. He was unconcerned, and took the time to practice flying stunts that were possible in various sizes of form. A falcon couldn't out fly him, in his smaller size. In his largest size, he could almost float in the air when he modified his weight. He ate what ever he wanted, since food was so easy to find.

Severus Snape had several potions to make, prior to the September ritual. It was a rather complex ritual, and preparation was meticulous. He had lost no time in telling Dumbledore when, and where, the ritual would take place. Dumbledore had had much more success recruiting people for the Order of the Phoenix, than had Voldemort. He knew there would be twelve death eaters with Voldemort, as well as his sixteen dementors. Albus didn't dare let anyone in the Ministry know, since he feared a leak back to Voldemort. He wasn't completely stupid. He knew how effective the Archer had been in reducing Voldemort's forces, and this ritual in September was the best possible time to stop Voldemort, for at least a few years.

Albus had to be ready, and was in a mad search for horcruxes. He couldn't find any of them. He thought the diary might have been one, but he wasn't sure. It had been damaged, before he had seen it. Not much was known about horcruxes. He expected the next time Voldemort returned, he would have Harry Potter ready to fulfill his destiny. He would let Harry keep hiding, for now. He had to get the boy back in school, around people. Love had to be Potter's power the Dark Lord knows not. What else could it be?

The fighting was intense. The Order of the Phoenix was sure they were ready to trap Voldemort at Stonehenge. They had position, and they had the people. There was a prior arrangement for Snape to be hit in the potions bag he carried, and he would be comatose for the entire battle. Destroying the potions would ensure Voldemort's ritual could not continue. Peter Pettigrew was with Snape. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin lost no time pounding the crap out of Pettigrew, made much easier with Snape's potions accident. Unfortunately, they spent a little too much attention on Peter, and Remus went down to a combination of blasters and cutters.

The rather messy spell fight continued, and the dementors were a much larger factor than Dumbledore had made plans for. Voldemort brought ALL of the remaining dementors he had. Patronus dementor repelling spells are much easier to cast in the absence of dementors. The numerical advantage the Order had was being decimated, because of the distraction the dementors cause. Dementors were extremely effective on the battlefield. Moody was the first one down. He had loads of bad memories.

Harry noticed his targets' change of location almost immediately. It didn't take long to find them. Voldemort was fighting with Dumbledore. Voldemort knew this fight would make, or break him. If he ran, it would take years to regain this kind of support, if ever. This was going to mess up his ritual, but he could always do another later. The Order had the numerical advantage on his people, but was spending most of its effort pushing dementors. The dementors would let the Dark Lord win. Dumbledore had to go... today. Any not killed in the battle would be killed immediately after. The Order of the Phoenix would cease to exist.

Harry ran through most of the bolts he carried, making short work of the dementors, from the sky. Voldemort's control of the medallions kept them from running, and Harry was darting eight per minute, as they danced in place. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. The dementors desperately wanted to flee. Voldemort's advantage disappeared, but the damage was done. Five minutes into the intense ambush, it was almost over. Three death eaters laughed, as the last of the outlying Order members went down. Harry darted those three death eaters in the back as they ran to rejoin Voldemort. Voldemort was well aware of what was happening. He had to get rid of Dumbledore, then take care of the bloody Archer.

The Order was decimated, and had lost most of their people to a combination of exhaustion and debilitating hexes. Voldemort was surrounded with his best fighters, Malfoy, Nott, with the two Carrows. They had effective shields. Dumbledore was keeping their attention on him, and it took its toll. Dumbledore had Minerva, and Sirius with him. Sirius was down, and bleeding. Tonks, Xavier, and the comatose Lupin were together not far from Dumbledore's group. These two groups were the last ones left of the Order still fighting. Harry couldn't dart anyone in Voldemort's group. The darts fell short, from the effects of a shield. Voldemort and his four stood against Dumbledore, McGonagall, Figg, and Tonks.

Harry dropped down from the sky, and joined Xavier and Tonks. "I've got your shields," he yelled.

It takes quit a bit of practice to form a good Hit Wizard team, and neither group was all that coordinated. Albus's group had been the only one holding off Voldemort's heavy attacks. Harry shields protected Tonks and Xavier against everything thrown at them, including the avada kedavra Albus and Minerva had been blocking with transfigured obstacles. Minerva was eventually hexed unconscious.

The problem with fighting in a shielded group, is that the casters have to stick their hand through the shield at an opportune time. Neither group can hex through an intact shield. Albus and Minerva usually attacked hexes with hexes.

Xavier yelled, "Quit that, and start shaggin' them up. The old man just went down, and we are in for it now."

"I'm on it," Tonks replied, as she took a bone crusher to the exposed hand. It shattered the bones in her arm, all the way back to the elbow. She promptly passed out from the pain.

Xavier yelled, "Charge 'em, Harry, keep your shields up. I'll give snake face all I have left."

Harry was within twenty feet of Voldemort, and the four remaining death eaters, obviously near exhaustion themselves. Harry charged the group of five, as his largest winged cat. He was inside the middle of the group's shield, claws slashing and teeth tearing. The leading edge of his wings broke what ever they hit. He was devastation in motion, killing the four nearly instantly.

Voldemort was momentarily incredulous. 'I saw Potter drop down from the sky,' he thought, in a matter of milli-seconds, as he dropped Xavier with a blaster. 'He's the damned Archer. The idiot animagus is defenseless. Blasting curse. His skin is mine.' Voldemort put as much effort into a point blank blasting curse as he was able to muster, aiming for Harry's hind quarters, as Harry finished with the four. He knew it would drill a hole in granite, and not even Dumbledore could stop this blaster, at this distance. He didn't get a chance for another thought, as the curse came right back at him, somewhat broadly scattered. It hit Voldemort like a giant hammer, knocking him flat on his back.

Harry was the last man ... cat ... standing. The long, seven minute full-power fight was over.

Harry resumed human form, stunned Voldemort, and lost no time magically transferring the custom made poison into his stomach. He scanned him for life threatening injuries, and stunned him again, for good measure.

Every Order member Harry could see was given a quick medical examination, but he didn't waste any time with wounded death eaters, not even taking time to kill them. He just used a quick, low powered stunner. Harry was nearly exhausted. It would be a pity if death eaters died, waiting for healers. Not.

Harry worked his way around the injured people, starting with Minerva, who was in rough shape. She would live. He went to Xavier next, who had taken one of Voldemort's blasters. He stopped the worst bleeding, and stabilized many broken bones, doing basic triage on the Order. Dumbledore, who had escaped serious damage, was the first combatant to wake up.

Dumbledore grabbed some magical manacles from an unconscious Tonks. He staggered over, and placed them on the comatose, lightly bleeding Voldemort.

"Hello, Harry," said Dumbledore, happy to see Harry medically treating people. "I watched you fight, beside Xavier and Tonks. Where did you come from? Pretty good shields, for a sixteen year old young man. I went down, before I could stop Voldemort."

"Voldemort will be dead, in a few days," said Harry, as he healed wounds the best he could. "maybe sooner. It is essential that no one kill him, before then. I have poisoned him, in such a way that he loses his immortality. The only known cure for him, is immediate death. You won't kill him, or let him be killed, will you?"

"Harry," said Dumbledore, "I can't let you poison people, even Voldemort. Why do you think that will end his bid for immortality? Voldemort should be contained in prison, like Grindelwald was kept. The British wizarding world doesn't poison people." 'Is this the prophecy at work?' thought Dumbledore. 'Is it possible?'

"Put him in prison," said Harry. "That works. Just keep him alive. He may not wake up."

"I have to take you in, for questioning, when I take Voldemort," said Dumbledore, forcing a bezoar down Voldemort's throat. "I am the highest ranking member of the Wizengamut, the law making body of government. How can I not let the authorities know what has happened, concerning Voldemort? There is going to be a lot of questions about this. It's hard enough explaining how I am here, at Stonehenge. You used poison on a prisoner."

Harry just watched Dumbledore, who was heavily conflicted.

"How can I explain poisoning?" he continued. "I am sure allowances will be made, since it is Voldemort you have poisoned. I can't think of a reason the Wizengamut would sanction the hideous use of poison, in the civilized world. Harry, you must be able to prove self-defense, to use deadly force. I have told you this. Besides, I have it on good authority physical death won't stop him. I believe he has used the dark arts to attain a measure of immortality."

Dumbledore was radiating frustrated exasperation and worry. What other answers would Harry have, for the Ministry? What happened to the thrice damned dementors?

"You think they will ask about HIS health?" asked Harry. "I don't trust the Ministry, so I won't be going with you."

There was no way Harry was submitting to Ministry questions. He had already seen them at work.

"Harry, my boy," said Dumbledore, "they will want to know who stopped Voldemort, and how. It wasn't me, though I tried my best. Just look at this battle scene. They will hunt you down, since you were here. Everyone will be questioned."

"They won't find me," said Harry. "I am kneazle. Keep him alive."

He transformed into his normal kneazle form, with full shields. He took off running, with as much speed as he could develop. Harry was tired, but he needed to run. He really needed to run.

Albus Dumbledore, exhausted and battered, just stood there, watching him go. The Ministry started arriving in force, in response to the tremendous amount of magic discharged at a national monument.