The Downward Spiral Saga

Book Six: Harry Potter and the End of War

It had been two months, since last he had left Malfoy Manor.

Two hellish, amazing, crazy months.

He hadn't been bored, that was for sure.

The Dark Lord had kept him very busy.

Apparently, his fighting skills, while impressive, were not what the Dark Lord expected from His second-in-command.

Every day.

Every single day, he'd spent two hours or so crossing wands with his lord.

It was insane. Harry'd been trained well, over the last few years.

By

Snape,

Barty,

and

Grindelwald.

But none of them even compared to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort was just on an entirely different level. And Harry was nothing if not eager to learn. He only had to remember how it had been, when Grindelwald had so effortlessly disarmed and immobilized him. He'd focus on that feeling of utter weak helplessness, and he'd grit his teeth, wipe the sweat off his brow, and carry on his training.

He was definitely improving. He could last more than a few minutes against Voldemort now, which already was a huge improvement on how he'd been when he'd first arrived back from Hogwarts.

It wasn't only training that was keeping him busy. The Dark Lord has been helping him and Daphne out, teaching them the rituals and spells they would need to create their own Horcruxes. Some of the rituals took a ridiculous amount of time. For one of them, he'd had to sit still for three hours while a really gross slab of some solidified potion dissolved in his mouth.

They were helping, for sure. The rituals were meant to strengthen his body, to make it more durable, and more impervious to minor injuries. That was definitely true. It wasn't like his skin was metal or some crazy comic-book bullshit like that. It was just, something that would have left a big bruise left a small one instead. Something that would have cut through his finger entirely would only cut halfway. Stinging Hexes barely hurt.

The rituals had other purposes, as well. To keep him from dying when he would tear a piece of his soul off, that was a pretty important part. To prepare the book that he would use as a container so that the piece of his soul wouldn't escape. So that the book would be impervious to most forms of damage. But he had done them all.

He was ready to do it. To make his very own Horcrux.

He breathed out heavily. It was intimidating, in a way. Intimidating, but exciting.

Immortality would be his, in just a few hours.

And then he'd be able to join in the fight.

For the last two months, he'd been sitting quietly indoors, learning and practicing. The Ministry and the Goblins, on the other hand, hadn't.

They'd attacked together, the ministry coming in from the North while the Goblins took the South. Already, the Ministry controlled the land from Scotland, all the way to York. Grindelwald and Hogwarts definitely helped, but who did what didn't matter. What mattered is who controlled the land. The goblins, meanwhile, had taken all the way up to Exeter and were steadily making their way toward Wiltshire. They moved through mostly uninhabited areas or wizarding villages, trying to avoid the muggles.