A ray of early morning sunlight crept through the window of an upstairs bedroom of Number Four, Privet Drive, illuminating the hunched form of a tall boy with black hair and rumpled, baggy clothes. The boy called Harry Potter was bent over a copy of the Daily Prophet, frowning at the photograph on the front page. A grey-haired man stared out at him, dry lips stretched in a grin, revealing unusually pointed yellow teeth. The caption proclaimed in bold lettering, FENRIR GREYBACK STRIKES AGAIN.

Harry's frown darkened as he read the story, which described the werewolf's attack on the two children, brothers, one aged ten, the other only three years old. The younger had later died in St. Mungo’s, the wizarding hospital. Feeling slightly sick, Harry laid down the paper on his desk, which was cluttered with bits of parchment and empty inkbottles. According to the Prophet, Greyback had a large record of attacks on infants, stretching back thirty years. The Prophet called him the ‘fleetest, most cunning beast of this era.� Too swift to outrun, too clever to catch, he had evaded capture for all these years. And he was still at it, thought Harry, grimacing as he gazed at a second, smaller photograph, from which the elder brother screamed and writhed silently from his hospital bed.

A sharp tap on the window distracted him from his grim thoughts. Looking up, he saw a snowy owl perched precariously on the windowsill, two scrolls of parchment tied to her leg and a large, dead mouse dangling from her beak.

“Hedwig!� Hastening from his chair, he opened the window and Hedwig fluttered in, settling on his shoulder. Stroking her head feathers fondly, he removed the letters, and carried her over to her cage. She blinked her beautiful amber eyes at him and hooted softly, before gulping the mouse down in one mouthful.

Harry threw himself onto his bed, and eagerly unfurled the first letter. The sight of Ron’s untidy scribble lifted his spirits even more.


Hi Harry,
Look, I’m really sorry Mum wouldn’t let me and Hermione stay at your aunt and uncle’s house with you this summer. If it helps, we’ve been nagging her until she agreed to get you out of there the day after come of age and that blood-protection thing wears off. I hope the Muggles aren’t treating you too badly.
Well, how’s your holiday been? It’s been great fun over here so far--Bill and Charlie managed to get home for the summer, and we’ve visited the place we stayed two summers ago a couple of times--


Here Harry’s insides gave a painful wrench. The ‘place’ was Grimmauld Place, the ancestral home of Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, who had been murdered a couple of years ago. But Harry pushed the thought of Sirius firmly out of his mind and forced himself to keep reading.


--so I’ve seen some of the people there. I think you’re going to be brought there after you come of age. Hermione’s here too, I swear she’s spending this summer trying to learn everything we’ll miss next year at Hogwarts. Iit’s driving me crazy. Anyway, we’ll see you next week, unless you blow up your aunt again, then you really will be expelled! No, seriously, don’t let them annoy you, because I don’t think I can stand a whole summer with just Hermione, at least until she finishes memorising all three thousand, five hundred and sixty-four pages of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7

Ron


Harry laughed as he folded up the parchment, though felt a slight twinge of guilt--it was, after all, his fault that he, Ron and Hermione weren’t going back to Hogwarts. Though, he thought with a knowing smile, he doubted if Ron really was as unhappy about being alone with Hermione as he said he was. The next letter was from her.


Harry,
Have you had a good summer so far? Don’t let your aunt and uncle get to you--this time next week you’ll never have to see them again! I can’t wait till you get here; Ron’s been badgering me constantly when I’m working. He doesn’t realise how important it is that we learn as much advanced magic as possible, we’re going to need it this year. Are you studying, too? I think we need to learn some more obscure spells, ones that perhaps the Death Eaters don’t know. I might go to Hogwarts and have a look in the Restricted Section, I’m sure Professor McGonagall would let me.

Anyway, I’ll see you next week, Happy Birthday in advance! Mr Weasley’s going to collect you; I think he wants another look at your uncle’s stereo system.

Don’t let what happened to Professor Dumbledore get you down. I don’t know if you wanted me to bring that up but I really don’t think you should dwell on it too much, you’ll only make yourself more miserable.

Hermione.


As he laid down the letter, Harry scowled. No, he hadn’t wanted her to bring that up. It had haunted his dreams at night, flashes of green light repeatedly forcing their way into his sleep, images of Dumbledore’s pallid face, drained and weak, staring at him, until he woke up drenched in sweat and panting. And cursing Snape under his breath. For it had been his old Potions Master who had killed Albus Dumbledore, murdered him in cold blood on the top of the Astronomy tower that fateful night. Most had doubted Snape's trustworthiness, since he was a known ex-Death Eater, but Snape had seemed loyal enough to Dumbledore and so the sudden traitorous switch had been a terrible shock to half of the wizarding world.

And now, mused Harry bitterly, the man was at large again, having escaped with Draco Malfoy after killing Dumbledore, despite Harry's best efforts to stop him. No doubt he was having fun with his old Death Eater pals and mocking that part of the community that had believed he could ever be on their side.

In his heart Harry swore to himself, that if he ever saw Snape again, he would kill him first and ask questions later. Snape was the man responsible not only for Dumbledore's death but for the deaths of Harry's own parents. It had been Snape's information that Voldemort had acted upon, the bringing of the news of a prophecy, a prophecy that told of a young boy who had the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. Voldemort had guessed that boy to be the year-old Harry, and had hunted him down. But the killing curse he had aimed at the baby boy had gone terribly wrong for its castor, rebounding upon Voldemort and reducing him to an almost lifeless wreck.

Yet Voldemort had risen again, thirteen years later, still bent upon finding and killing Harry, and so Harry knew that the prophecy was likely to come true in the end, that one of them would end up killing the other. And with his greatest protector murdered, Harry thought pessimistically, it was hardly likely that he, only a teenager, would ever be able to destroy the most evil wizard the world could remember.

The loud creaking of the Dursley’s bedsprings and the sound of his uncle muttering something brought him back to the present time and to his senses. Hermione was right--he mustn’t let Dumbledore’s death crack him up. And knuckling his eyes fiercely, he carefully tucked the letters under the loose floorboard in his room where he kept all his secret possessions, then went downstairs without bothering to comb his hair.

---

A week later, it was his birthday. Once this would have been nothing out of the ordinary, but today he eagerly scoured the skies for owls bringing him cards from his friends. He hoped this would be the last day he was stuck in Privet Drive; the thought of leaving to stay with Ron and Hermione had been what had allowed him to put up with Dudley’s jeers and punches, and the open hostility of his aunt and uncle over the summer.

With a leap of his heart he saw them coming, and wrenched open the window, jumping back as several owls swooped down at once, appearing suddenly and silently from the night. One, two, three owls glided smoothly through the open gap; the fourth, a bedraggled grey, slammed straight into the other window. Harry leant out hastily and grabbed it before it could drop to the ground. He checked the unconscious Errol anxiously to see if he was still alive, then, satisfied, relieved it of the large package tied to its leg.

With the parcel was a quickly scribbled note from Ron, wishing Harry a happy birthday and informing him that he was to be collected from Privet Drive at eleven o’ clock the following morning. Harry’s spirits rose even higher. At last, he would be free! Underneath the brown paper there were two parcels--one, obviously from Mrs Weasley, containing a large, sticky chocolate-and-strawberry birthday cake, and a second present from Ron, which was struggling slightly in its wrappings. Eagerly he ripped off the paper and out darted a real Golden Snitch, though he could tell it was a cheap one; after a few minutes of darting inquisitively around the room its little wings struggled to keep it in the air and it flopped onto Harry’s bed, quivering with exhaustion. Harry watched it, grinning, then turned to the rest of his presents.

Hermione had sent him a thick, leather-bound book entitled Unique Defensive Magic: Little known Counter-Jinxes and Blocking Spells, which he skimmed through enthusiastically. She was right; it was a good idea to learn unusual spells that the Death Eaters--and, if he were extremely lucky, Voldemort--would not know.

The third card was from Lupin, though there was no gift attached. This did not surprise or disappoint Harry, for he knew how poor his old teacher was, and wondered, with a surge of anger, if the laws Dolores Umbridge had passed against werewolves still prevented him from finding employment.

Not entirely to Harry surprise, the card Hagrid sent snarled and snapped at his fingers when he opened it--hastily he stuck it on the windowsill, where it growled ominously at him. With the card was a large parcel of lumpy biscuits, so hard he couldn’t break one even after repeatedly banging it on his table edge.

As he laid down his gifts, feeling happier than he had in a long time, he even managed not to think about Dumbledore at all.

None of the Dursleys acknowledged his presence at breakfast, though Harry was hardly expecting warm birthday greetings. Still, he had come of age. They could at least look at him. Come of age… the sudden inspiration hit Harry like a golden gleam of sunlight. Of course--now, he would never have to worry about Mafalda Hopkirk and his Decrees for the Improper Use of Underage Magic ever again! Smirking, he silently slid his wand out of his jeans pocket and pointed it under the table at his pathetically small grapefruit quarter, Transfiguring it into a thick slice of warm buttered toast. For good measure, he conjured up an ample amount of strawberry jam. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, who were still avoiding looking at him, noticed nothing, but Dudley, who could smell food a mile away, turned his head so fast he appeared to crick his neck.

“Mum!� Dudley said loudly, glaring at his cousin with his piggy eyes as Harry bit into the toast.

Aunt Petunia turned affectionate eyes on her porky son. “Yes, Popkins?�

“You gave Harry--I don’t have--I want that toast!� Dudley declared angrily, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon turned sharply to look at Harry, eyes widening in surprise as they saw his breakfast.

“Boy!� Harry, who had been licking his lips to incense Dudley further, whilst directing his wand under the table at his cousin’s grapefruit and shrinking it to the size of a thimble, looked up innocently. “Yes, Uncle Vernon?� he said politely, making his uncle’s grapefruit disappear entirely with a muttered Vanishing charm.

“Where did you get that toast?� his uncle demanded, attempting to grab it from Harry, who widened his eyes in feigned innocence.

“Why, it was on my plate--I thought it was my birthday breakfast,� he grinned, swallowing the rest of it to evade his uncle’s grasping fingertips.

Uncle Vernon's face was now dangerously red, but the upcoming outburst never came for at that moment Dudley noticed his tiny grapefruit and amidst his wails Harry, choking down his laughter, slipped upstairs to his room, charming wings onto his aunt’s grapefruit as he went so she screamed and ducked as it fluttered about the kitchen.

None of the Dursleys followed him. That day was one of the best in Harry’s life, as he got back at Dudley and his aunt and uncle for all the slights and punches he had endured at their hands. By that afternoon, all three of them immediately fled from any room he set foot in, and Harry, as well as having fun hexing small objects to fly and tap-dance and whistle whenever the Dursleys walked past, enjoyed for the first time in his life at Privet Drive unlimited use of Dudley’s PlayStation and all four televisions.

That evening, though, having had his fun, he put everything back to normal, and retreated to his room leaving them in peace. After all, they had sheltered him for sixteen years, and he wondered, feeling slightly guilty, if Dumbledore would have repaid them in such a way. But, he decided as he climbed into bed, Dumbledore might well have done. And he fell into a peaceful sleep, a remembrance of flying glasses of oak-matured mead, cowering Dursleys, and a serenely smiling Dumbledore before his eyes.

---

The next day he woke up early in anticipation. It was only dawn and he pulled on his clothes as quietly as possible, as experience had taught him that it was never an agreeable experience to rouse his aunt and uncle before they wanted to wake. Especially not after the events of yesterday. He had packed everything last night, as soon as he finished vanishing the legs on the remote control and silencing the growling doorknobs, and now, with nothing to do, he spent the early hours of the morning pacing the floor, impatiently checking his watch every few minutes. The Daily Prophet arrived as usual, borne by owl, and he read it cover to cover several times before eleven o’ clock. To his disgust he read that the bitten boy, the elder brother, had also died in St. Mungo’s last night. The hunt for Greyback was at its peak, with most of the wizarding community furious and howling for the beast’s blood.

The second the hand on Harry’s watch moved to eleven, he heard several loud pops downstairs. He leapt up immediately, grabbing his trunk, knowing the pops to be those of people Apparating. Wondering whether as many wizards would have come to collect him as last time, he hurried down the stairs three at a time, dragging his trunk behind him, and threw open the kitchen door.

The sight that greeted him was almost comical. Aunt Petunia and her huge son Dudley had both backed up against the wall, looking as though they were trying to push themselves right through it. Uncle Vernon was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by four familiar people, his face beet red and turning purple faster than Harry knew to be safe. Knowing the signs of an impending explosion, Harry hastily announced his presence with a cough.

“Er--hello,� he said, hastily pointing his wand at the clock and wordlessly shrinking the long, blue, twitching ears--he’d forgotten that one last night. Mr and Mrs Weasley and Lupin turned to him, with smiles, but Moody continued to glare at Uncle Vernon, who was looking anywhere than at his horribly spinning magical eyeball.

Lupin walked swiftly over to Harry, still smiling, but studying him intently. Harry also looked at him with some concern, though he tried not to let it show. Lupin looked thinner and more exhausted than he had ever seen him, and though he was still young, his hair was now iron grey. Harry guessed that he had probably been right in thinking that Lupin still had no job, for his robes were more worn and threadbare than ever.

However, he was distracted from Lupin as Mrs Weasley pulled Harry into a warm hug, and Uncle Vernon reached boiling point. Evidently the sight of someone hugging the nephew he hated was too much. Amidst his yells, Lupin said quietly, “Grip my arm tightly, Harry, I’ll Apparate you back.�

Amidst a surge of remembrances--the last time he had done time, it had been on the way to Dumbledore’s last adventure--Harry took hold of the proffered forearm, turned on the spot, and was pulled away from the pristine kitchen, at last, never to see the Dursleys again. And he wasn't sorry at all.

Though by now familiar, the sensation of Apparating was still so unpleasant that Harry wondered if he really wanted to take his Apparition test. The feeling of being squeezed through a very small tube was not one he was keen to repeat. Lupin smiled as though he knew what Harry was thinking, and led him down the street towards number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry heard several small pops behind and glancing round saw that the rest of the company had joined him. Mr Weasley’s ears were pink, Moody looked contemptuous and Mrs Weasley horrified. Such was the effect of the Dursleys, thought Harry with an inward grin, glad to see that he was not alone in his dislike. Moody rapped on the door of the old house three times, and it flew open almost immediately.

"Harry!" The wind was knocked out of him as Hermione pulled him into a fierce hug, exclaiming and calling Ron and Ginny. Harry grinned as he saw the familiar freckle-faced, red haired figure of Ron bound down the stairs, and felt his heart give a funny leap when his sister appeared at the top, beaming at him. Harry hugged Ginny tightly as she reached him, but then looked her in the eyes, with a small shake of his head. He’d already had this conversation with her, and wasn’t going to back down now. There was no way he could carry on having a relationship with Ginny until the war was ended and they could live a normal life. His heart ached as he let her go, her bright brown eyes pleading and her fiery red hair tumbling down her back.

But it was good to be with them again, so good he could almost ignore the inevitable twist in his stomach as he walked through his godfather’s old house, the gloomy, cold house where everything reminded him of Sirius.

“You’re sleeping in the same room as last time, dear,� said Mrs Weasley, who still looked slightly shocked from her encounter with the Dursleys. “Ginny, come and help me with dinner.� Harry looked at Ginny, sending her the unspoken message ‘talk later’ and she nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. He, Ron and Hermione clambered upstairs, hauling his truck behind them. Harry couldn’t stop grinning. Four weeks was, after all, a long time to have been away from his best friends, and as he collapsed onto his bed with Ron and Hermione, he felt that, for now, nothing could spoil his gladness.

“Good to see you, mate,� said Ron, also beaming. “It’s been hell here stuck with Hermione, she won’t stop working. You’d think, in the holidays, you’d want to forget books for a bit, but no…�

Harry laughed as Hermione buffeted Ron with her pillow. Then she turned to him, her face slightly tense.

“How are you, Harry?� She surveyed him anxiously, and Harry understood the meaning behind those simple words. She was asking how he was coping with Dumbledore’s death, and he turned away, the grin sliding off his face. “Fine. I’m fine. So, what’s been going on here then? You said you were having loads of fun?�

Ron settled back lazily on Harry’s bed. “Yeah, we have. Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes is--well, it’s amazing, it took off so well. Fred and George bought branches in Birmingham and Bristol, and they’re looking to expand abroad--maybe get premises in Paris. I can’t believe they’ve been so successful--they’re richer than Percy is, with his salary as Junior Assistant to Scrimgeour…� and he trailed off, looking slightly moody. Hermione put her arm comfortingly round his shoulders, ignoring Harry’s knowing smirk. Ron looked slightly awkward, glancing at Hermione’s hand on his sleeve, but then relaxed and continued. “They’ve come here a couple of times for lunch, they’ve been playing tricks on everyone, it’s been great.�

Hermione frowned slightly disapprovingly, sliding her arm off Ron’s neck. “Well, it’s funny when they played tricks on Tonks, and you, but I think they should have more respect for Professor Moody and Professor Lupin, I mean, they were their teachers…� she tailed off as Ron rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Hermione, that was why it was funny! No-one would’ve believed even they’d dare to turn a teacher’s hair blue.�

“They turned Lupin’s hair blue?� said Harry, grinning.

“Nah, that was Moody. They put this Poppa-paintbomb in his bowler hat, the stuff wouldn’t come off for days,� said Ron with a snort of laughter. “What they did to Lupin was worse, they put crushed Canary Creams and Bunny Biscuits--they’re a new thing--in his sandwich. It doesn’t wear off when they’re combined… he was covered in feathers and rabbit fur for an hour before Mum worked out a counter-charm.� And Ron sighed reminiscently as Harry laughed.

Halfway through a disapproving shake of her head, Hermione seemed to abruptly turn to more important matters.

“Harry,� she said seriously, and he and Ron looked up at her from the bed, where they were messing about with the Golden Snitch that Ron had given Harry for his birthday. “We’ve been thinking about--about the Horcruxes.� She said the last word in a whisper as though if she said it any louder Voldemort would come bursting through the window. Harry looked into her face. “So’ve I,� he said heavily, feeling the lump of the fake locket he carried around everywhere in his jeans pocket and reluctantly pulling it out.

All three of them stared at the golden locket as it lay on the bedcovers, tarnished and dull. Then, as Hermione seemed about to launch into a heavy discussion about R.A.B., Horcruxes and Snape, Harry impulsively grabbed the locket, and stuffed it back into his pocket, standing up. Both Ron and Hermione glanced up at him enquiringly.

“Let not talk about it now,� he said, a hint of pleading under his firm tones. “I’ve just got away from the Dursleys for ever, I’m seeing you for the first time in weeks, I want to have fun--at least for today," and gratitude swelled in his chest as Ron and Hermione nodded in understanding.

They spent the time before dinner laughing and talking about pointless things that only best friends would find funny, and Harry savoured every moment of normal, silly messing around he could get, for he knew that soon there would be little time for such trivial pleasures.

That evening’s meal began as a very merry affair, celebrating Harry’s release from Privet Drive. Mrs Weasley seemed happier than anyone--except Harry himself--that he never had to see that part of his family again. She had cooked what seemed like all of Harry’s favourite dishes and after he polished off the last crumbs of raspberry cheesecake he sat back in his chair feeling warm and full and deliciously tired.

The noise of the front door creaking open, however, roused the company from their sleepy mood, and Harry, craning his neck round to see who the visitor was, sat up sharply as a familiar face came into view. For one, brief, heart-jolting moment, Harry thought Dumbledore had walked into the room. But he shook himself mentally, telling himself yet again, that the Headmaster was dead, and was not coming back. No--this was not Dumbledore, and now Harry looked at him properly he wondered how he could have thought so. This man was tall and thin like Dumbledore, with a straggly grey beard and the same long, slender fingers. Something about the stranger was very familiar, and he racked his brains, trying to place him. He also seemed to recognise the strong smell of goats emanating from the man’s filthy robes. But his train of thought was interrupted as the old man glanced shrewdly round the little company, his eyes coming to rest on Harry face, and spoke. His voice was deep and rasping.

“’Ello� he muttered, unsmilingly. “No, don’t want tea…gotter talk to Remus.� And Lupin rose, looking surprised and wary. He followed the man, who had backed out of the room into the hallway, sharp blue eyes flicking over their faces. Mrs Weasley put the kettle back on the shelf.

Nobody had spoken since the man had entered, and Harry, glancing round, saw that most of the adults still looked startled. Then Moody cleared his throat.

“Never thought I’d see him in Order company again--good to see him out of that filthy bar at last,� he said, saying the last part under his breath, and Mr and Mrs Weasley nodded in agreement. A few minutes later the man slouched out of the front door without a backward glance, turned on his heel, and was gone. Lupin re-entered the kitchen and sat down, slightly paler than usual.

“What is it, Professor?� said Harry quickly. “Who was he? What did he want?� Lupin looked up to find them all staring at him in concern, and smiled, though it looked rather forced.

“Who was he, Harry? That was Aberforth…Dumbledore’s brother,� he added, as Harry looked slightly blank. Lupin glanced round briefly before continuing in a strained voice.

“He, er--came to tell me there has been a child discovered in the woods--a girl went missing last night, she was found alive--but…� he stopped and swallowed.

Hermione inhaled audibly. “It was full moon last night, wasn’t it, Professor?� He gave her a grim, tired look and nodded.

“The girl had been bitten…they suspect Greyback did it, you all know he--specialises--in infants. “ They nodded sympathetically, all knowing Greyback had been Lupin’s own attacker when he was only four years old.

“That brings the total of werewolf attacks up to twenty-seven since Lord Voldemort came out into the open. Aberforth told me to go into hiding.� There was a collective intake of breath, and Mrs Weasley whispered, “Why?�

Lupin looked at her directly. “Molly, the girl’s parents, and the parents of the other children who have been attacked, are out for blood. You must be able to see why…anti-werewolf feeling is at it’s height and Aberforth believes it will be only a matter of days until the Ministry of Magic does something about it. I believe Albus asked him to help the Order should anything happen to him--I’m sure he knows a lot more than he lets on, Albus told him quite a lot.� He rubbed his forehead distractedly.

“The Ministry has been bombarded with owls from the parents of children all over Britain--people are terrified. They may pass a law saying all known werewolves must be imprisoned--but that is only a guess,� he added hastily as Mrs Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny let out ejaculations of anger, “The trouble is, everyone knows now what I am--it was all over the Prophet after that year at Hogwarts. He thinks it advisable for me to, as I said, go into hiding until Greyback is caught and the attacks stop…which I do not believe will happen,� he added bitterly. “Greyback has been out there for thirty years and has never been found.�

Mad-Eye Moody stood up, both his normal and magical eye fixed intently on Lupin. “So, will you?� he growled, “Go into hiding?� Lupin was silent for a while, then gave a non-committal shrug.

“If I do, it would mean I could not help the Order…there is no point in hiding safely and being of no use to anyone. It would be best for now just to wait and see whether the Ministry does take action. I shall sleep on it, I think. Don’t worry,� he added, looking at his friends’ worried expressions. “I hope nothing will come of it.�

Mrs Weasley rose from her chair, her face anxious. “Have some wine, Remus…you need a pick-up after that news, I think! Oh, my God, when will this end…� she muttered almost to herself as she waved her wand and the wine-bottle tipped some of its contents into one of Sirius’ goblin-wrought silver goblets.

No-one answered her, there hardly being an answer to give. Lupin was staring at the table-top, seemingly lost in thought, and took the goblet from Mrs Weasley without looking at it; the next moment his fingers jerked convulsively and he dropped the cup with a stifled cry of pain, the wine cascading over the table-top. Harry and Ron jumped and looked at Lupin in bewilderment. He had gone paper-white and was wringing his hand as though it had been scalded. Everyone else, however, gasped and Mrs Weasley put her hand over her mouth, looking horrified.

“Remus! I--I’m so sorry, I forgot, I didn’t think -�

But Lupin shook his head and she broke off.

“No, Molly, I apologise, I should have looked at what I was touching…I’m fine…� and he smiled reassuringly, though still very pale, and waved his wand. The spilt wine vanished, and he rose.

“Well, I think that’s enough excitement for one evening!� he said cheerfully, though his smile seemed forced. “I’ve caused too much trouble tonight, I had better go upstairs before I make any more…goodnight.� As Lupin passed Harry on his way to the door, he saw his old teacher’s hand was red and burnt-looking, and after he had left the kitchen, nobody spoke for a long time. The meal ended extremely quickly.

When he had laid down his knife and fork, Harry caught Ron, Hermione, and Ginny’s eye and jerked his head in the direction of the door. They stood up at once, Ron deliberately giving a fake yawn when his mother was facing his way, and looking expectantly at her. She reacted as he intended.

“Bedtime, all of you, you’ve had a busy day.� And they left as quickly as they could. Harry was burning to ask Hermione many questions but he waited until they were all sitting on his bed and the door was shut.

“What was all that about?� he burst out. “Why did Lupin -?�

Hermione had a strange expression on her face as she answered.

“You didn’t do that werewolf essay for Snape in our third year, did you?� They shook their heads. “Well, I did, and I had to research how to kill werewolves, remember? And the only thing that is effective when a werewolf has transformed, the only thing that can kill it, is silver. And the touch of silver is agony to werewolves even in human form, that’s why Lupin couldn’t hold that goblet. Haven’t you noticed he always uses a copper plate and cup?�

Harry shook his head—he hadn’t noticed, but then, Hermione had always been more observant than he was.

“His hand looked burnt,� said Ginny, looking at Hermione, who sighed. “I read in Dark Creatures and How to Defend Yourself when You Meet One that silver causes more pain to a werewolf than the Cruciatus Curse does to a human.�

Ron was looking green. “No way…so when he touched that goblet…� and he made an odd noise, between horror and pity.

Harry, who had felt the Cruciatus Curse himself, several times, found it hard to imagine pain worse than that, and he shuddered, remembering the terrible agony, the feeling that his bones were on fire, his skin aflame, that he was being sliced with white hot knives….

“D’you think the Ministry really will say that all known werewolves must go to Azkaban?� he heard Ron say, as from a long way off, and he forced himself back into the present.

“Dunno…� he said. “Seems a bit harsh, doesn’t it? I mean, Lupin’s never hurt anyone.� But Hermione made a small doubtful noise and he looked at her. “What?�

“Well, I’m sure the Ministry remembers he was on the loose in Hogwarts grounds…they could easily bring that up.�

“He won’t get caught, anyway,� said Harry firmly. “He’s hardly going to walk into the Ministry on Magic and say ‘Look, it’s me, the werewolf,’ is he?� but Hermione just shrugged.

“He said himself he probably won’t hide so he’ll still be interacting with wizards…as long as he isn’t recognised -� but she broke off as she heard Mrs Weasley coming up the stairs to check on them and Apparated hurriedly to her own room, with a whispered “‘night!� Ginny gave Harry a fierce hug and kissed him goodnight, before slipping out of the room to join Hermione.

They climbed into bed, each occupied with their own thoughts, but Harry lay awake for a long while after Ron’s snores had filled the room, thinking…

---

The next day was very sombre; Dumbledore had been proven correct. The Daily Prophet had arrived with the news that a new law had been passed, more severe and shocking than Lupin had expected. It had proclaimed that any known werewolf, if found, would be arrested on the spot, interrogated, and if found to have ever endangered any person, wizard or Muggle, would be legally executed as soon as possible. Following the article containing this news were a series of letters from the wizarding community roaring their approval of the new law. Everyone was very quiet around Lupin that day. He appeared calm, though rather distracted, and spoke very little, seeming to be deep in thought.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny couldn’t believe it as they stared at the Daily Prophet. “No way� was all Ron could say. “No way, they can’t…�

“They have,� said Hermione grimly. But Harry could think of nothing to say as he re-read the lines of the new law: ‘executed as soon as possible…’

“Harry?� it was Hermione, looking at him in some concern. “Harry, it will be alright…Professor Lupin will just have to go into hiding, that’s all.�

“They can’t do this!� he burst out angrily. “It’s not like all werewolves are bad, it’s just that Greyback’s fault, it’s always him who attacks people!� And Hermione and Ron seemed unable to find anything to reply to this, as they agreed completely.

---

That lunchtime, Lupin told them all as they were grouped round the table, that he had decided he was not going to go into hiding. There was much shaking of heads at this decision and a few people started to speak, but Lupin cut across them, his voice quiet but firm.

“I do not wish to be of no use to the Order for the duration of the war. There are always terrible risks involved in fighting Voldemort; this is just an additional one. And, after all, very few people would recognise me--they know my name from the Prophet but I am not widely recognised in the wizarding community.�

And nothing anyone could say would persuade him to change his mind.

---

The next day, Lupin had gone, away on business for the Order. It seemed everyone had accepted his decision to remain active. Harry felt slightly depressed as he heard of Lupin’s departure. Harry had always felt able to confide in Lupin--even more since Sirius’ death--and Lupin was one of the few people Harry wanted to discuss the Horcruxes with. Despite what Dumbledore had said about keeping Voldemort’s secret, well, secret, Harry had decided that Lupin could be a great help in tracking down the pieces of soul, being intelligent, trustworthy and skilled in Defence magic. Lupin was also someone Harry felt he could talk to about Sirius and Dumbledore; Harry knew that their deaths must have affected Lupin as much as it had him, or even more. However, his slight annoyance at Lupin’s going away vanished when Harry heard where he had gone. Hermione was very pale as she related to Ron and Harry what she had overheard Lupin telling Moody where he was going.

“He going back to join the werewolves, back to Greyback and the rest of them--�

“WHAT?� said Harry loudly. “No. No way. Lupin fought against the Deatheaters and Greyback that--that night--they’ll know he’s a spy!� Hermione nodded anxiously in agreement.

“He said Dumbledore would have wanted him to keep on spying, that he thinks he might be on the way to persuading a few of them to join him.�

“Greyback’ll rip him to pieces before he persuades any of them,� said Harry flatly.

Ron looked rather sick, but made an obvious effort to speak comfortingly. “Lupin’s not stupid, he’ll find a way to convince them, somehow…� his voice trailed away into nothing as Harry paced the room in agitation, not noticing Ron and Hermione’s attempts to calm him down. What was Lupin thinking of, he thought furiously. Most likely the man was walking into a death-trap…was he going to lose everyone he cared about? And it was with a heavy heart that Harry went to sleep that night, his dreams punctuated with visions of screaming, bitten children and Greyback’s shadowed face staring at him from a newspaper, lips pulled back from sharp teeth in a malicious grin.

---

Nightmares had prevented him from sleeping well and the next day Harry woke feeling as though his head was stuffed full of Bubotuber Pus. He groaned loudly as the early morning sunlight streamed in through the window and hit him across his closed eyelids.

“Bad night?� mumbled Ron from his bed across the room, sounding half-asleep himself. Next moment, however, both Harry and Ron jerked fully awake as a loud Crack! split the air, and Hermione appeared in the room, a disorientated-looking Ginny clinging to her arm and giggling.

Harry and Ron both jumped and instinctively clutched their bedcovers around themselves, which only made Ginny laugh harder.

“Shy, boys?� she teased. “We decided to come and say good morning.�

“Couldn’t you have just knocked, like, the normal way?� muttered Ron, his ears slightly red.

“I thought I’d practise Side-Along Apparition,� said Hermione briskly, settling herself comfortably on Ron’s bed. “It might come in useful one of these days. Which reminds me, Harry, you can take your test now. Ron’s going to, as well.�

Ron sat up, forgetting his embarrassment. “Yeah, I think Mum’s booked us in for sometime next week. You’ll have no trouble though, mate, blimey, you’ve already Apparated, er--a lot…� he trailed off, looking awkwardly at Harry. Harry knew he had been about to mention Dumbledore, and shrugged.

“You can talk about Dumbledore, you know,� he said lightly. “We can’t just avoid it. Besides, I think we need to talk about him. What did you think of Aberforth?�

“I never realised!� said Hermione, and they all looked at her. “Oh, come on, didn’t you recognise him?� When Ginny and Ron shook their heads, she sighed impatiently. “Harry? Please don’t tell me you didn’t know who he was--you’ve seen him enough times.�

“I thought I did,� said Harry slowly. “But then I reckoned it must've just been that he looked like Dumbledore. The goat smell was familiar, though.�

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I should think so – The Hog’s Head reeks of goats."

"Oh..." said Harry, realisation dawning. "You don't mean--not the barman?"

But he didn't really need to ask--now he thought of it, the tall, thin man behind the bar with his straggly grey beard and deep eyes did bear a vague resemblance to Albus Dumbledore. And Harry wondered why he had never noticed it before.

Harry sat there digesting this surprising piece of information, and as he sat, he began to think what an idiot he'd been. Of course, he’d seen Aberforth that day of the first meeting of Dumbledore’s Army, not to mention, he saw him again the next year in Hogsmeade, talking with Mundungus. And now, he thought, mentally kicking himself, hadn't Mad-Eye Moody pointed Aberforth out to him in the old photo of the original Order of the Phoenix? He ought to have recognised the barman the first time he set eyes on him--Harry supposed he had been too disturbed by the shock of seeing his parents in the picture to think much of it.

“The barman?� Harry heard Ron saying, sounding confused. “That stinky old barman’s Dumbledore’s brother?�

And Harry had a sudden thought. “He could have been spying on us," he said slowly. "Dumbledore used to get information from him--I saw, in the Pensieve – Dumbledore said he was friendly with the local barman, that’s how he knew all Voldemort’s followers were waiting for him in the bar, that time he went to ask for a job at Hogwarts.�

“We need to go and speak to him,� said Hermione as soon as she heard this, and Ron and Harry nodded in agreement. Dumbledore might have given his brother some information about the Horcruxes – hadn’t Lupin said only last night, Aberforth knew more than he let on?

Ginny was looking slightly lost. “Harry, I don’t understand – why do you need to talk to Dumbledore’s brother?� Harry chewed his bottom lip as he looked at her, Dumbledore’s warnings to him ringing clearly in his mind, “I am going to ask you to ask them not to repeat any of this to anybody else…� Harry knew he could trust Ginny with his life. But would this put her life at risk? Was it safe for her to know?

And in the end, Harry heard himself speak, as if from a long way off, “Look, Ginny," said the voice, which was surprisingly calm. "There’s something I haven’t told you. And I don’t think I can tell you. I’m sorry. But it’s because I don’t want to put you in danger, don't you see? Dumbledore told me to keep this to myself – and Ron and Hermione--because it might be the only chance of destroying Voldemort we get.� Harry stopped there because the frustrated look on Ginny’s face was more than he could handle at that moment.

“Harry!� she burst out. “Do you think I would go around telling everybody – �

“No, Ginny,� Harry interrupted her quickly (he knew that, as with her mother, it was dangerous to let Ginny work herself into a rage) “I know you wouldn’t ever, not intentionally. But we’re talking about Death Eaters here, and about Voldemort. If you know what we know, it could--it could kill you. I’m pretty sure one other person has died because of it already,� he added, thinking of R.A.B.

Ginny looked about to argue but Hermione crossed the room and sat down next to her on Harry’s bed. “Ginny,� she said kindly. “Harry knows what he’s doing. It really is best for you to stay out of it. We may be talking life and death here.�

“And you think I’ll be all right sitting comfortably here, or at Hogwarts, just waiting to hear if one of you has been killed?� said Ginny fiercely, eyes flashing. “You don’t want me to know anything, so I’ll never be able to help you! Surely the more of us, the better? And I couldn’t stand it if – if anything happened, to any of you – � she broke off, blinking furiously as she held back tears, and Hermione patted her soothingly on the back.

“Ginny…� Harry began, awkwardly. He never knew what to do when girls started crying. “Look, I can’t back down over this, I just can’t. I couldn’t live with myself if you – if you died, because of me. Too many people have already. It’s not that I don’t want you in my life, of course I do – but not yet. Not until the war is over and I can live normally. If you stayed here, safe, I would be much happier than if you came with me, wherever I’m going.�

“We dunno what we’re getting into, Ginny,� said Ron quietly. “But we do know it’ll be dangerous. And besides,� he added, trying to lighten the mood, “What would I tell Mum?�

Ginny made a small noise, between and sob and a laugh. “Fine. Alright, I’ll stay here,� she said, looking at the floor. “But Harry, oh Harry – watch your back… and you too, Ron, Hermione… I want you all back here in one piece after you finish off Voldemort,� she said, half jokingly, though shivering slightly.

Harry smiled regretfully, wishing it could be that easy. “Thanks, Ginny,� he said simply, relief flooding through him, and he felt another burden drop from his shoulders.

But Ron was looking at his sister with an uncharacteristically shrewd expression on his face. “Promise us, Ginny,� he said suddenly. “Swear you won’t go following us or anything.�

Ginny glared at her brother, twisting her fingers in her lap, and seemed about to retort angrily when she caught Harry’s eye, and faltered. “I – oh, alright…I swear, I won’t follow you,� she said, half-defiantly, throwing her long red hair over her shoulders, and standing up.

“I’m going to have breakfast,� she said, walking quickly out of the room, and they heard the sound of her footsteps clattering, not downstairs, but in the direction of her bedroom. Harry felt wretchedly guilty, sure that Ginny had left so they wouldn’t see her cry. But it did not shake his resolve. He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, lead any more people into danger, just for him.

His thoughts were interrupted by Hermione saying gently, “Harry? While Ginny’s not here, I think we need to talk. About – about You-Know-What…� Harry sighed, but got up, and she watched him as he crossed the room and dug out the fake Horcrux from his chest of drawers.

The locket lay innocently on the bed, illuminated by a ray of sunlight sneaking through a crack in the heavy black curtains. Hermione frowned, staring at it thoughtfully. Ron leaned over Harry’s arm and prised it open, and the note from R.A.B. fluttered out. Harry caught it instinctively, and he and Ron both scanned it again for further clues. But Hermione was still looking at the locket as though she was trying to remember something, and after a while, Ron looked over at her.

“Penny for your thoughts?� Hermione jumped slightly and glanced at him.

“I don’t know…� she said slowly. “There is something – but I’m not sure – and I think, I might be right –� Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, before saying irritably, “When you remember us, we’re here waiting patiently, as always,� and Hermione shook her head slightly, as though trying to clear it.

“It’s seeing that locket here, I – I just get a feeling I’ve seen it here before,� and Harry and Ron raised their eyebrows at each other.

“No, really,� she said, biting her lip. “Harry, what was in all that rubbish we cleared out of the cupboards when you first came here?�

Harry stared at her blankly.

“What, you expect me to remember that? From two years ago? I dunno… er, there was a box of Wartcap powder, er – an Order of Merlin…�

“And a locket?� she prompted eagerly. “Was there a locket?� Harry racked his brains, but he couldn’t remember. If there had been--if there had been a Horcrux here, all the time!

“I don't know, Hermione� he said finally. “But I trust you. If you think there was, you’re probably right.� And Ron nodded emphatically in agreement.

“Yes…I don’t remember exactly, but I’m almost sure. What did Sirius do with all the stuff?�

With a sinking feeling Harry remembered the many bin bags they had spent the summer filling with old Dark objects and rubbish from the cupboards, and beside him he heard Ron groan.

“It could be anywhere,� said Ron, casting his hands up in a hopeless gesture. “Sirius probably just threw it out.�

“Back to Square One,� Harry said grimly, already casting around for ideas, but Hermione was shaking her head, a gleam in her eye.

“I don’t think so,� she said, in a low voice quivering with suppressed excitement, and Harry and Ron stared at her. “R.A.B.� she said quietly, and Harry frowned, puzzled.

“Where are we?� she said excitedly, and Ron gave a half-laugh.

“Er, Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, remember? Or had you forgotten?�

“Oh, don’t be stupid,� she snapped. “We’re in the house of one of the darkest wizarding families – ‘The Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black.’ Well, what if R.A.B was a Black? ‘B’ would be the initial of his surname, right? So, what if he brought the locket back here?� And Harry gazed at her, mouth slightly open, marvelling at her brilliant mind.

“Hermione, you’re a genius,� he said sincerely. Ron was simply gaping at her. Hermione smiled, blushing slightly, and stood up.

“Where’re you going?� said Ron, finding his voice.

“To look at something that will tell me exactly who this R.A.B. is, if he really was a Black--the tapestry. The family tapestry with all the names of the Blacks on it,� she clarified, as Ron looked blank. Harry stood up too, excitement coursing through his veins. “Let’s go,� he said, striding across the bare boards and opening the door, and together they made their way to the tapestry room.

They all paused outside the room when they reached it, memories of Sirius and house-cleaning flooding back to them.

“God, he hated this house so much,� muttered Harry, as he surveyed the bare room before him, still smelling damp and mouldy even after all Mrs Weasley’s efforts. The dusty cupboards were empty, stripped of all their dark objects, and Harry glanced at them, trying to remember if there really had been a locket in them. But his mind was blank. Ron, on the other hand, suddenly let out a sigh of remembrance and Harry turned his head quickly, the question in his eyes.

“Yeah, I remember,� said Ron, nodding. “There was a locket. Great heavy gold thing, we tried to open it, remember? But it was like, stuck. And,� he added, looking amazed at his own brilliance, “I’ve just realised--Kreacher!�

“Kreacher?� repeated Harry, perplexed, but beside him, Hermione breathed a sigh of comprehension.

“Yes…yes!� she whispered, and suddenly turned to Ron and hugged him, hard. He went purple, either from embarrassment or because she’d cut off his air supply, Harry couldn’t tell which. When she let go, after giving him a quick kiss, Ron reeled backwards, cheeks aflame and a mixture of shock and bliss stamped on his face. As he seemed incapable of normal speech, she continued, looking slightly amused.

“Kreacher came in, remember? And he took some of Sirius’ things from the waste bags. So, what if he took the locket? Ron, you’re wonderful.� He flushed even more, his face clashing dreadfully with his hair. But Harry was still sceptical.

“What if he didn’t? Sirius threw him out before he had a chance to nick anything.� Hermione’s face fell, but Ron punched him playfully on the shoulder.

“Don’t be too optimistic, mate, all that hope is overwhelming! We may as well ask Kreacher, just in case. There’s a chance he could’ve sneaked some stuff out later.�

“But for now,� said Hermione briskly, “Let’s have a look at that tapestry.� And they crossed the dusty floorboards to the other side of the room where the ancient tapestry hung, faded and somehow sinister. More memories came surging through Harry’s mind..here Sirius had told him about his childhood…about how he hated his pureblood family…how he’d run away from home. He stared at the yellowed cloth, running his fingers over the embroidered names, and remembering…Elladora Black…Aunt Elladora, the house-elf decapitator… Narcissa Malfoy, a small burn mark beside…Bellatrix Lestrange… Harry’s fists clenched as her stared at her name--Sirius’ murderer, I swear, I’ll kill her--but was distracted as Hermione’s voice broke through his dark thoughts.

“Harry! Harry, look--� he had rarely heard her so excited, and he and Ron leant over quickly to read the name she was pointing to.

Regulus Black.

Harry’s heart missed a beat. Sirius’ brother…what had he said about him? His parents liked him, he was in Slytherin…he looked at the numbers beside Regulus’ name for more clues and saw the date of death. So young…a memory was nagging at his mind…and then it hit him. A realisation so strong he felt dizzy. His own words came back to him, “Was he killed by an Auror?� “No, he was murdered by Voldemort…he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out.� But what if Sirius had been wrong? He would have been in Azkaban when his brother died, and so few knew Voldemort’s secret…If Regulus had been killed by Voldemort, could it not have been for a deeper, more sinister reason? “I know I will be dead long before you read this...� If Regulus had known… perhaps he had not been a Death-Eater after all. Could he have been a spy?

“Harry,� said a loud and impatient voice in his ear. “You’re turning into Hermione. You going to tell us what you’re thinking, or just keep sitting there looking enlightened?�

“What? Oh--yeah, sorry,� said Harry, focusing on them. He’d almost forgotten they were there. Quickly he told them everything he could remember about Regulus, Hermione’s eyes widening with every sentence.

“Oh, Harry--if he was--if he was really a good person! Do you think so? Yes, it fits, it all fits,� she answered herself, and she began muttering inaudibly under her breath, forehead furrowed. Harry and Ron waited, not wanting to interrupt her train of thought. Finally, she looked up at them, the satisfied gleam in her eyes that she always got after solving a puzzle.

“Yes. He’s got to be R.A.B. He was killed for finding out Voldemort’s secret, he found the Horcrux but must have hidden it here before Voldemort hunted him down. He was either always on our side, as a spy, and didn’t tell his parents, or he was a Death Eater but turned traitor to Voldemort. I’m sure of it.� Harry and Ron nodded all the way through her speech. So, Sirius’ brother was R.A.B, marvelled Harry, but then his spirits sank as he thought again of the locket.

“Well, it’s great we’ve worked it out, but I still think it’s unlikely the locket’s still here,� he said, standing up and brushing some old, dry Doxy droppings off his robes. “We may as well have a look in Kreacher’s room now, though, just in case.�


Kreacher’s old room, the little space in the kitchen that enclosed the boiler, looked much the same as ever, though with a forlorn, disused feel about it. The same filthy nest of tattered sheets covered the floor--Hermione’s face fell as she looked in vain for the patchwork quilt she had given the elf--and tucked away behind a bundle of dirt-smeared rags which seemed to have served as a pillow, lay some small objects…part of a wooden photo-frame stuck out, and something else, gleaming gold. Harry heard Hermione’s excited gasp in his ear as he reached out quickly, heart thumping, and pushed aside the pillow to reveal the items entirely.

There was no locket.

All three groaned quietly in disappointment. The gold object was just an ordinary brooch, stamped with the Black crest. Ron pushed aside a silver music box, an Order of Merlin, and the photograph, searching in vain.

“Accio locket!� said Hermione firmly, pointing her wand inside the den. Nothing happened.
Harry shut his eyes, concentrated on the locket as hard as he could, and waved his wand to the house in general, “Accio locket!� They all strained their ears, hoping against hope to hear an object come zooming out of one of the rooms. But after a few minutes of tense silence, all three had to admit defeat.

“Okay, so it’s not here,� said Harry resignedly. “Where do we try next?� But before anyone could answer, they were interrupted.

“What are you doing?� said a suspicious voice at the doorway, and they looked all jumped and glanced round guiltily. Ginny was standing there, still in her nightdress, looking at them all as though they had lost their minds. Harry and Hermione both had their wands drawn from the Summoning Spells and Ron had been leaning back on his haunches, staring gloomily into Kreacher’s den. Mrs Weasley appeared behind her, peering curiously into the kitchen. Ron hurriedly slammed shut the door of Kreacher’s den and Harry and Hermione hastily pocketed their wands, as Ginny and her mother entered the kitchen.

“Nothing, Ginny, nothing,� said Ron evasively. I just, um, got the wrong door, Mum, I, er--I thought it was the pantry,� he added lamely, for she was looking at him shrewdly.

“I hope you three aren’t up to anything dangerous again,� she said, hands on hips, and Harry could see she hadn’t swallowed Ron’s pathetic story for one minute. “Because I know you lot, can’t stay out of trouble for five minutes, you’re worse than Fred and George for making me worry, sometimes!�

“Aw, Mum, we’re all right,� said Ron vaguely. “Just messing around, you know. Want to go to your room, Harry? Um, we could learn some magic from Hermione’s books!� he said, glancing at Mrs Weasley who was now looking even more suspicious, and the three of them hurried out before she could ask any more questions.

Halfway up the stairs, Harry felt rather than heard someone close behind him, and turned to see Ginny stealthily following him, a determined look on her face. He sighed, knowing a confrontation was coming, but didn’t try to stop her coming into his room.

“What were you really doing?� she demanded, the minute the door closed and they were out of range of Mrs Weasley’s hearing.

Harry sighed. “Look, Ginny, it’s to do with what I told you about earlier--�

“What you didn’t tell me, you mean!� she shot back, hair looking redder that ever and her dark brown eyes flashing. She looks so beautiful when she’s angry, thought Harry, for a second, before concentrating on the matter at hand.

“Well, yeah--Ginny, look--�

“No, I’ve changed my mind,� she said, her chin up defiantly. “You’re not keeping me in the dark any longer, I mean it. Either you tell me, right now, or our relationship’s over. Spill it.� Ron and Hermione glanced at each other nervously, while Harry swallowed. She didn’t mean that--she couldn’t mean it! Ginny stood there, adamant, glaring at him, and suddenly, he laughed. She looked startled, as if that wasn’t quite the reaction she had been expecting.

“Well, that’s it then, isn’t it?� he said lightly. “You’ve got me. Sit down, I’ll tell you everything.�

Ginny sat, her face still stunned, but beginning to show signs of excitement. As Harry told her the story of the Prophecy, the memories Dumbledore had shown him, and finally the Horcruxes and the task he had to complete, her expression changed from horror, to fear, and finally to determination as he finished. She didn’t speak after he ended, rather lamely, “--And, well, that’s it really.� She looked up into his face, the old wonderful blaze in her eyes, and simply hugged him, hard.

Then she whispered in his ear, for only him to hear, “That’s it, really--and I’ll be with you all the way.�

Hermione and Ron had been watching silently, Ron already looking anxious, about, Harry guessed, the battle with Mrs Weasley later when they told him her daughter wasn’t going back to Hogwarts, but was going with them to places even they didn’t yet know. Hermione was smiling slightly--Harry knew she had never been entirely happy about his keeping Ginny in the dark. But what other choice did he have. Yet some part of him was proud to have such a brave, determined girl by his side, ready to fight for him, and he smiled too. It looked like he couldn’t have stopped her anyway.

“Well, I’m glad to see you change your mind, Harry,� said Hermione gently. She understood their feelings on both sides, Harry knew.

“But now we’ve sorted that out, we’d better not waste any more time. We know what we have to do next. Ask Kreacher--Harry, call him here, he might be able to tell us something.�

“Do I have to see that wretched little elf again?� muttered Harry darkly. Part of him still blamed Kreacher for Sirius’ death. The foul creature had lied to him--it had been his fault Harry had gone to the Ministry in the first place. But Hermione gave him a stern look, and he gave in, throwing up his hands. “Fine, fine… Kreacher!� he said firmly, focusing his mind on the elf, and the next moment there was a loud Crack! and Kreacher appeared, filthy as ever, bent low and glaring up at Harry through his yellowed eyeballs in greatest loathing.

“Master called?� he whined, bowing to the floor, his face mutinous.

“Yeah, I did,� said Harry, looking down at Kreacher in repulsion. “We want you to tell us everything you know about a golden locket that was in one of the cupboards upstairs.�

Kreacher bowed again. “Master wants to know about the locket, yes he does, the locket that was mine, I kept it, I saved it for my mistress and young dead master, and now it’s gone, he stole it he did, yes, and he had no right to tough young dead master’s property, filthy tramp of a Mudblood that he was, oh if my mistress knew, she’d be furious--�

“Yeah, yeah, we don’t need to know about Sirius’ mum thanks, Kreacher, we hear enough from her portrait as it is,� said Ron, cutting across the elf’s rambling. “Who took it?�

Kreacher stared at Ron in utmost detestation and began muttering again, “The blood-traitor is trying to order Kreacher around, Kreacher will not answer, no, my mistress would be ashamed to see Kreacher talk to such a blood-traitor, oh yes…�

“Alright, that’s enough!� said Harry loudly, ignoring Hermione’s reproachful glace. “Kreacher, who took the locket?� The elf tried rebelliously to keep his mouth shut, ears quivering in effort, but then as though he couldn’t help himself, reluctant words came tumbling out.
“That Mudblood took it he did, the filthy thief of a halfblooded traitor…�

And then Harry realised, and knowing him to be out of their reach, in Azkaban, breathed out the name in dismay. “Oh, God--Mundungus…�

Harry thought back to his last meeting with Mundungus, in Hogsmeade. He still felt a hot surge of anger when he thought about Mundungus shamelessly nicking Sirius’--or rather, his--possessions just a few weeks after his godfather’s death. He had always known the man wasn’t exactly honest (to put it mildly) but had never before had any reason to dislike him. He had once even felt indebted to him for Disapparating at the crucial time when Umbridge’s Dementors had shown up, for although it had almost led to his expulsion from Hogwarts, at least it had got him away from the Dursley’s and back into the wizarding world.

But now--now Harry had a real reason to resent him, for he was pretty sure if the man hadn’t made off with the locket, it would have remained safely in Kreacher’s little den for them to find. Being completely unfamiliar with the criminal wizarding underworld, he mused sourly that, by now, the locket would probably have passed through several hands, and the chances of him tracking it down grew slimmer with every day that passed…

“Well, we might as well write to the Ministry now,� said Hermione, in a businesslike way, already searching for some parchment. Harry stopped brooding and looked over at her.

“Write to the Ministry? What for?� She rolled her eyes at him.

“Well, obviously we can’t just stroll into Azkaban and chat to Mundungus--well, we could, but for my part I fancy keeping my soul in my body--so we need permission, don’t we?�

Harry’s insides gave an uncomfortable squirm, and he swallowed. “You, er--we’re planning to go to Azkaban, then?� he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, but Hermione glanced at him sharply and then her features relaxed into a sympathetic expression.

“Oh, Harry, I wasn’t thinking. You don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.�

That sounded good. Then Harry shook himself mentally. Hadn’t his friends decided to go with him wherever he went, and support him through whatever hell was coming? It would be nice repayment to let them do all the dirty work for him. Harry forced a smile.

“Well, Dementors aren’t exactly my best pals,� he said lightly. He felt Ginny’s comforting hand on his arm, and he relaxed a little. “But, no, I’ll come. I don’t think I should miss anything, and besides, Mundungus might feel he has to tell me about the locket more than you three, since he did steal it from my house. Anyway, there aren't that many Dementors there any more--most of them went to join Voldemort.�

Hermione bit her lip, looking at Harry uncertainly, but she seemed to notice the determined set of his chin and nodded slowly.

“Alright, if that’s what you think’s best--� but she was cut off by Ron’s loud, irritable complaint.

“Harry, mate, get rid of him, won’t you?�

They looked around to see Ron watching Kreacher with an aggrieved expression, as the elf stood glaring nastily up at him through his bloodshot, bulbous eyes, muttering darkly about filthy blood-traitors, just audibly enough for Ron to hear.

Harry laughed, and was about to order Kreacher to go back to the Hogwarts kitchens, when Ginny’s arm shot into his chest in excitement, winding him. “Ouch!�

“Harry, wait!�

“I--I’m not doing anything!� he gasped, massaging his ribs. She bounced excitedly on the bed, not noticing him.

“Harry, I’ve just realised--Kreacher knew Regulus, didn’t he? So, you can ask him about--� but at that moment there was a loud Crack! Kreacher had Disapparated, and Ginny broke off in surprise.

“Kreacher, come back!� said Harry loudly and firmly, having regained his breath, and with another Crack! Kreacher reappeared, twisting at his ears in agitation and stamping his little feet. Harry ignored him.

“And stay here, this time,� he added pointedly. “Thanks Ginny, good idea. Right, Kreacher, we have a few things we want to ask you about. You don’t seem to want to talk about your old master Regulus, judging by the hurry you were in to be off. Why?�

A shudder seemed to pass through the elf’s little body, and he felt a little guilty for speaking so harshly to the pitiful creature, however foul he was, and when he spoke again, it was with a gentler tone. “We just want to know what you know about Regulus. Anything at all.�

Kreacher bowed low, his eyes filled with loathing, and croaked slowly, “Young dead master used to live in the House of Black, he slept in the bedroom on the third floor, he liked the colour green, he--“

Harry lost his patience again, and cut the elf off. “All right, Kreacher, I guess I asked for that. Right--was Regulus Black a Death Eater?� but Kreacher didn’t speak; a tremor shook his little body and he kept his lips tightly shut, glaring at Harry defiantly.

Harry was surprised. A house-elf refusing to answer a direct question? Under the nature of a house-elf’s bondage, this should be impossible.

“Okay, then,� he said slowly. “When did he bring the locket here?� A huge spasm jerked through Kreacher little body this time. Harry scratched his ear in confusion. He knew Dobby had managed to disobey the Malfoys a few times--was this just Kreacher’s stubbornness? Frowning, he tried again.

“Did he switch sides? Did he turn traitor to Voldemort, or was he always a spy?�

By now, Harry knew something was wrong. Kreacher was twitching and shaking uncontrollably. Why wouldn’t, or couldn’t, Kreacher answer? He glanced round at Ron, who looked as perplexed as he felt. Ginny was shaking her head in puzzlement, but Hermione was gazing at Kreacher shrewdly.

“Harry, I think he must have been ordered not to give any information away about Regulus and the locket--probably by Regulus himself.�

Harry felt his brows unknit. Yes, that must be it. House-elves have to answer their master’s questions, but if they are bound by an older order--and Regulus was also a pure Black, perhaps that was why Regulus’ orders overrode his own?

“Well, that’s… annoying,� he said, feeling how hugely inadequate those words were to describe his frustration. “Okay, Kreacher, go back to Hogwarts now,� he said slightly sharply, ignoring Hermione’s disapproving frown.

With yet another Crack! Kreacher Disapparated, giving Harry his filthiest glare as he went. Harry barely noticed, slipping off the bed and pacing up and down restlessly. “So, Kreacher obviously knows a lot. There’s something more behind this, but I just can’t figure out what. Why would Regulus take the trouble of making sure Kreacher didn’t go spreading his secrets?�

“Seems a bit weird,� said Ron, shrugging. “Probably he was just being careful. I guess he didn’t want to risk You-Know-Who, I dunno, maybe torturing Kreacher to find out how he found out about his Horcrux.� Ginny and Hermione both agreed, happy to leave it there, but Harry still felt there was something he was missing, something nagging at his mind. But there were other things they needed to get on with, and Harry decided to let it go for now.

“Well, let’s write that letter to the Ministry then,� he said, decisively and Hermione nodded again, taking the ink and parchment over to a small, rickety writing desk in the corner of the room. Carefully she smoothed the parchment flat before dipping her quill into her inkpot, and lowering the quill to the page. Then she paused.

“Who do I address it to? Which Department?�

“Um…no idea--Ron?� said Harry, looking at him. Mr Weasley worked in the Ministry so Ron knew the Departments pretty well.

“Probably the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I think they do stuff about Azkaban, trials, you know,� said Ron absentmindedly.

For a little while after, the scratching of Hermione’s quill filled the small room, and nobody spoke. After less than a minute, she stopped writing, scanned the letter and gave a small nod of satisfaction. Then she handed the parchment to Harry to sign. He read it through, Ron and Ginny peering over his shoulders.


Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Dear Sir/Madame,

Requesting a meeting with the prisoner Mundungus Fletcher, to discuss personal issues. It would be much appreciated if you would allow me a short visit, with my friends Ronald and Ginevra Weasley and Hermione Granger.


Harry made a small noise of approval. “‘Personal issues,’ nice and vague, that’s good. We don’t want Scrimgeour or anyone getting suspicious.�

Harry signed the letter and waited for the ink to dry before rolling it up and magically sealing it. Hedwig was asleep in her cage, snowy head tucked under one wing. He crossed the room and prodded her gently.

“Wake up, Hedwig, sorry--I need you to deliver this for me.� She poked her head out from under her wing, blinking her large amber eyes at him.

“Take it to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic, okay?� he said, stroking her feathered head gently. Hedwig gave a soft hoot of understanding, sticking out her leg, and Harry tied on the scroll. She hopped out of the cage on to his arm, and he carried her over to the window, leaning back as she took off in a flurry of white feathers and soared over the grimy rooftops towards the Ministry.

Hermione was fiddling absentmindedly with the drawer of the writing desk, which appeared to be stuck, while Ron watched her with a would-be-casual expression, though with a slightly dreamy look in his eyes. Harry sat back down next to Ginny, who leant comfortably into him. He took some strands of her long red hair between his fingers and twirled them, muttering teasingly, “Ginevra…I never knew that was your name.� Ginny elbowed him.

“Don’t call me that,� she warned. “It’s almost as bad as Nymphadora.�

Harry smiled, but at that moment was distracted as out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed something that made him jump as though he had received an electric shock. Hermione was still sitting at the writing desk, which now had its drawer hanging open, and from it she was lifting a small, dusty, very familiar square mirror.

Harry crossed the room in two strides and grabbed the mirror from Hermione’s startled hand.

“Harry, what--� she began, bewildered, but broke off, looking at him in concern. His chest was suddenly tight and his breathing constricted, as memories of Sirius came crashing over him in waves. That mirror--that damn mirror! Hadn’t Sirius given him another just like it, so that they could communicate easily? Without making stupid plans for breaking into the High Inquisitor’s warded office, which were bound to go wrong.

And he’d not even bothered to open the package, at least not until after Sirius was murdered, and a fat lot of good that had been. The guilt he had felt at his godfather’s death, long suppressed, now surged through him afresh leaving him feeling wretched and empty. If he had just opened it he would have been able to find Sirius at Grimmauld Place, without relying on Kreacher. But he hadn’t. And now Sirius was dead, and it was all his fault…

“Harry!� said Hermione sharply, and he jumped. He had almost forgotten she was there. Looking around he saw them all staring at him, looking perplexed and anxious. Feeling a warm pressure on his hand he looked down at it, to find that Ginny had been holding it comfortingly, which he hadn’t noticed. Ron cleared his throat nervously.

“Um, Harry? You feeling all right? What’s with the mirror?�

Harry couldn’t speak. His chest still felt as though it was clamped in a steel band. Finally, Ron stood up. “Okay, I’m getting Mum.� This made Harry come to his senses. It was only a mirror, he told himself firmly. You aren’t to blame for Sirius’ death, he would’ve left the house at some point anyway. And though this was far from satisfactory, he pushed it out of his mind and taking a deep breath, forced himself to speak.

“This is Sirius’ mirror,� he said, striving to keep his voice steady. “He--he gave me one, too. It’s a two-way mirror; we could’ve used them to communicate with each other…� he trailed off as he felt his voice shaking slightly. Ron and Hermione didn’t seem to notice his agitation.

“Really?� said Hermione, looking very interested. “A two-way mirror? They’re ever so rare. Can I have a look at the other one?�

“Er, no,� he admitted, feeling guilty again as she looked surprised and hurt. “I--it broke.�

“Oh, Harry,� said Hermione reproachfully. “You let it break?�

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know it was that special,� he said defensively, then paused, thinking. “Oh, hang on--yeah, I think the pieces are still in my trunk, somewhere.�

Hermione beamed at him, leaping off the bed and dragging out Harry’s overstuffed trunk from under the bed. She threw it open and began rummaging in it, throwing aside all the junk that had been amassing in there probably since his first year at Hogwarts. Harry watched her for a bit, smiling slightly, then pulled out his wand from his jeans pocket, pointed it at the trunk and said firmly, “Accio Sirius’ mirror!�

“Oh, yes,� said Hermione, looking embarrassed. “I keep forgetting we can use magic now… Harry, nothing’s happened.� It was true. No shards of mirror had come zooming out. Harry frowned. He had, in truth, forgotten about the mirror, but now he remembered having felt guilty for breaking Sirius’ gift to him, and shoving the pieces back in his trunk.

“That’s weird,� he said. “Wait, I’ll try again. Um, Accio broken mirror?�

There was a disturbance in the trunk, like several small mice fighting to extricate themselves from the jumble of Harry’s possessions, and out soared seven pieces of mirror, gleaming dully in the weak sunlight.

Hermione eagerly pointed her wand at them, saying “Reparo!� and the shards flew together, good as new. Harry idly watched her as she examined the two mirrors closely, throwing the repaired one to Ron so they could test them out, still wondering why they hadn’t answered to the Summoning charm as ‘Sirius’ mirror.’ Well, he supposed it technically wasn’t his godfather’s any more, seeing as he had given the mirror to Harry. Still, it had belonged to Sirius. At that moment, however, he was distracted by Ron’s loud, excited voice in his ear.

“Hey, this is so cool! Look, Harry, I can see Hermione in here, and talk to her and everything!� He gazed, fascinated, into the mirror. Harry moved behind him so that he could look over Ron’s shoulder. Through the film of dust he could make out Hermione’s face--glancing over at her, Harry saw her smiling down into her own mirror at Ron, who blushed, seeming to realise he had been ogling Hermione for about a minute, and hastily laid his own down on the floorboards. Harry almost laughed, but stifled it quickly as Ron coughed, his ears turning red. Smiling inwardly to himself, Harry wondered when on earth Ron was going to be able to just go out with Hermione without being awkward and flushing every other second. He supposed it would take some time.

“Harry!� said Ginny suddenly, “There’s something stuck to the back--look!� She pointed to the underside of Hermione’s mirror, where Harry now saw a small square of yellowish parchment. Harry’s heart gave a strange jump, and he grabbed at it. Immediately, the parchment began to tear.

“Watch it!� exclaimed Ron, knocking his arm out of the way. “It’s stuck!� Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Well, get it off, it might be…� but Harry fell silent as he watch Hermione picking at the corner of the parchment. He didn’t feel like voicing his thoughts aloud.

Hermione seemed to be having difficulty. In the end she picked up her wand, murmured, “Diffindo!� and the parchment was ripped from the mirror. It floated downwards and they all dived for it. But Harry, with his Seeker reflexes, got there first. Turning it over, he saw a message written in an elegant hand, though it was scratchy and untidy, as though scrawled in a very great hurry. His heart sank. It was not Sirius’ writing, but an untidy yet familiar scrawl—it looked as though the writer had scribbled this in a very great hurry. Disappointed, he nevertheless read the note out loud, in a low but clear voice.


I write this in the hope that it falls into the right hands; I dare not address it in case it does not. For the same reason it is hidden here, in the hope that you were to think of the connection. If you are whom I pray you to be, you will understand the use intended for this mirror. We may not meet again, but I thank you for your loyal servitude, and if you are brought the tidings of my death, journey at once to Borgin and Burkes, at Knockturn Alley, where it has awhile been my suspicion that another is hidden. Seek a string of death. And if my fortune is fair and I return alive, we shall make this journey together.


Harry finished reading and looked up. Only Ginny looked confused; he could tell from the satisfied looks on Ron and Hermione’s faces that they were thinking along the same lines as he was.

“Well,� he said, breaking the silence that had followed. “I think we all know who that’s from.� They all nodded, even Ginny.

Ron scratched his ear. “Yep. Our favourite cryptic messenger. Likes his secrets doesn’t he, that Regulus--who’s he writing to, d’you reckon?�

“He must’ve had someone to help him get that locket,� said Harry slowly. “Dumbledore said one person couldn’t have done it.�

“Which means,� said Hermione thoughtfully, “someone else knows about the Horcruxes,� They all exchanged an uneasy glance, but Ginny suddenly laughed.

“Oh, no--I think I can guess who it is,� she said triumphantly. “Kreacher!� There was a collective sigh of enlightenment as everybody realised the reason for Kreacher’s forced muteness. Ron gave his sister the thumbs-up. She looked quite pleased with herself. “But I don’t understand,� she continued, frowning slightly and taking the parchment from his hand. “Harry, what can he mean by the ‘string of death’?�

This, however, Harry did not find at all hard to explain; since that terrible Hogsmeade weekend last October, the name Borgin and Burkes always conjured up an image of Katie Bell, writhing and twisting on the ground, a brown paper package beside her, glittering purple visible through a small tear in the wrappings.

“That’ll mean that opal necklace,� he said confidently. “It was in Borgin and Burkes, I saw it there. Malfoy bought it and gave it to Katie. Oh, wow--you don’t suppose it is a Horcrux?� he added, excitement welling in him. But it was also mixed with doubt. He saw his feelings mirrored on Hermione’s face.

“I don’t know, Harry,� she said hesitantly. “It might be. But don’t you think Dumbledore would have recognised it as a Horcrux?�

“Well, you can’t tell that something’s a Horcrux,� interrupted Ron. “Can you, Harry? Doesn’t it just look exactly the same?�

Harry shrugged. “I’m not sure. The diary felt pretty normal. No, hang on, it didn’t. I kept feeling like I had to keep looking through it. And so did you, Ginny, didn’t you?� she nodded, looking as though she’d rather not talk about that. He moved on hastily.

“Well, and that snake, Nagini, has almost human characteristics, the way she obeys Voldemort and stuff. And you said the locket was really heavy, unnaturally heavy, right, Hermione?� She nodded also. “So,� he continued, feeling hopeful again. “Dumbledore might have recognised it, and destroyed it. He never said anything to me though.� This was where the doubt came in. Wouldn’t Dumbledore have told him?

“Well, anyway,� said Hermione briskly, “That’s another thing we have to follow up. Do you think that it could be the Ravenclaw Horcrux?�

Harry hadn’t thought of that. He supposed it could have been the founder’s necklace, the ‘something of Ravenclaw’s’ that Dumbledore had told him to find. But Ron snorted.

“Why would she wear that if it would kill her? Looks a pretty Dark object to me, more like something from Slytherin. Anyway, I dunno if it’s really a Horcrux. Why would it just be stuck in a glass case in a shop for everyone to see?� But Hermione just threw him an exasperated glance.

“Oh, Ron, if it was Ravenclaw’s, it wouldn’t have been cursed when she had it. That would be Voldemort’s--oh, get a grip--Voldemort’s doing. To stop people from touching it and trying to destroy it. As for it being in a shop, sometimes the best places to hide things are right in front of people’s eyes. Who would guess? And I asked how much it was, remember? One and a half thousand Galleons! Riddle might have asked Burkes to put it at that price to make it stay there--probably Malfoy only got it in the first place by showing his Dark Mark.�

Harry was convinced, and it seemed so were the others, for they were both nodding, Ron for once not rolling his eyes at Hermione’s cleverness but instead looking rather impressed.

At that moment a loud pop echoed behind Harry and he jumped to his feet so fast his head spun. He whirled around to find himself face to face with what he thought, for a split second, was some kind of hallucination.

Fred and George stood there side by side, beaming at him, hair as offensively red as ever. They were decked in their old favourite dragon-hide jackets, but this time with boots to match, and clashing floppy wizards’ hats of a garish orange. Their clothes almost seemed to shimmer and change colour as Harry gazed at them, stunned, and as he looked closer he realised the dragon-hide was now charmed so it seemed as though they were covered in swarms of multicoloured bees. They made his head swim to look at them, and so he blinked, still feeling dazed.

“Um,� he said finding his voice, and lowering his wand, which he found he had been holding raised in front of him. “Business going well then?� he said, raising his eyebrows and nodding towards the jackets. The twin’s grins grew even wider.

“You bet,� said George, fingering the leather lovingly.

“Never better,� said Fred. “Anyway, how are you doing, old pal?�

“Not defeated You-Know-Who yet?� added George. Harry blinked, startled, and opened his mouth to speak, though without any idea of what he was going to say. How did the twins know he had to kill Voldemort? It made him uneasy. More and more people seemed to have learnt the truth, when Dumbledore had specifically told him to kept it as quiet as possible.

“I’m surprised at you,� said Fred, shaking his head at him sagely. “We reckoned you’d have done it by now.

“How--what--what do you mean?� said Harry quickly, “Why d’you think--�

But Fred interrupted him. “Come off it, Harry, we all know what you’re going to have to do eventually. The Chosen One and all that.�

Harry felt his face going slightly red. “That’s just the Daily Prophet,� he said hastily, glancing at Ron who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Nah, it’s not,� said George. “You can trust us, you know, Harry. Besides, we have information from another source other than the Prophet.� Harry’s stomach lurched. Who else knew about the prophecy?

“Yeah, you don’t think we’d just trust that old rag, do you, mate?� said Fred, snorting. “Nope, our informant is none other than--�

“--Our dear younger brother,� finished George. Harry’s mouth fell open, and he turned to stare at Ron reproachfully.

“W-What?� stammered Ron, his ears turning red. “I never said anything! You know I wouldn’t!�

But the twin’s faces just split into wide grins.

“Not knowingly, you wouldn’t,� said George, kindly.

“But you talk in your sleep,� Fred informed him.

Ron’s face fell, the red now creeping up his neck. “What else did I say?� he said, horrified.

“Not much,� George said, sighing in disappointment. “But enough,� he added, suddenly serious. “So, you’re not going back to Hogwarts then, you three? Are you sure that’s wise?�

“You can’t say anything, you left early, too!� said Ginny hotly. Fred and George gave her identical, searching glances, then turned to look at Harry, eyes wide.

“You aren’t taking her with you?� they said simultaneously, looking appalled. “We figured Ron could look after himself, but--� He never finished what he was saying. Ginny pushed herself off the bed so violently that Hermione was pitched sideways into the hollow in the bedsprings. She stood there, hair swishing over her shoulders and her brown eyes flashing with anger. Harry was reminded uncannily of Mrs Weasley. It seemed so were Fred and George, for they exchanged uneasy glances and tried to speak. But Ginny beat them to it.

“SO YOU THINK I CAN’T LOOK AFTER MYSELF?� she cried, fury ringing through every syllable. “AFTER ALL THAT I’VE DONE?�

“Ginny--� Fred began, in a pacifying voice, but she rode on, building into a passion.

“AFTER I’VE BEEN POSSESSED BY YOU-KNOW-WHO AND GONE TO THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS AND EVEN HELPED FIGHT A LOAD OF DEATH EATERS AT THE MINISTRY AND AT HOGWARTS ONLY A FEW WEEKS AGO AND YOU STILL THINK I’M YOUR LITTLE BABY SISTER?�

“No,� said George, quickly. “But--�

“You haven’t done half the stuff that I’ve done! I’m coming with Harry and that’s final. He’s agreed, and I’m coming even if he changes his mind, and nothing you two say is going to stop me!� She finished in a quieter tone, but her cheeks still blazed dangerously and her hair seemed more fiery red than ever.

“Whoa,� said Fred, hands raised. But before he could say anything more, a horrible sound ripped through the house from the hall--an all-too-familiar screeching.

“Filthy blood-traitors, despoiling the house of my fathers…

“Oh, dammit,� said George, wincing. “Ginny, you woke her up.�

Ginny shrugged, unrepentant. “You made me.�

“Whatever,� Fred said, striding to the door. “We’d better go down and shut her up--you know, Mum only told us to come up here to tell you that lunch is ready--she didn’t want to shout up the stairs because of that old hag.�

“Get out, begone, all you filth, you Mudbloods and foul half-breeds, desecrating the noble house of Black…�

They hurried downstairs, hands over their ears, reaching the screaming portrait of Sirius’ mother just as Mrs Weasley came bursting out of the kitchen looking harried, wisps of hairs straggling all over her forehead.

“Fred! George!� she said, exasperated. “I told you to be quiet!� On the last syllable she gave the left-hand curtain a huge tug and with a joint effort they managed to yank the dusty hangings back over the struggling, howling old woman, whose screams became muffled and slowly ceased altogether. Mrs Weasley wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

“What on earth were you screaming about, Ginny? Well, never mind that now,� she added, looking all of a sudden very wary, her eyes flicking between Harry and her daughter. “The meal’s ready. Be on your best behaviour, you lot, we have guests for dinner. And no tricks,� she finished, with a sharp glance at the Fred and George, who looked at her, identical angelic expressions on their faces.

“I mean it,� said Mrs Weasley in a stern voice, though seemingly only half-heartedly. Glancing again at Ginny, she turned and led the way back into the kitchen. Harry and Ginny looked at each other. He could see the unease he felt reflected in her eyes. It almost seemed as though Mrs Weasley knew about Ginny’s decision to leave Hogwarts.

He had no time to worry about this however, for then they walked through the doorway into the cavernous kitchen, grey and cold still but now awash with light from the now-sparkling windows, all grime and cobwebs scrubbed away, the once grim stone walls covered with cheerful red hangings. It almost reminded Harry of the Gryffindor Common Room, and he stopped and paused for a moment, feeling a twinge of regret for the cosy tower-room and the bunch of Gryffindors he had almost come to regard as family. Not to mention the rest of the wonderful old castle, his dormitory, the suits of armour, the Ghosts… at that moment he would have even liked to see Peeves, the annoying Hogwarts poltergeist, once more.

But he knew he could not let himself dwell on what had been. That part of his life was over, and he had to accept it. And so he sat down at the long wooden table, which was groaning with food, trying to push all thoughts of Hogwarts out of his mind, when he glanced up only to find himself looking directly at Professor McGonagall.

For a second, Harry just stared at his old Head of House, now Headmistress of Hogwarts. He hadn’t imagined he would meet McGonagall again for a long time, if ever, and setting eyes on her now, so soon, only a few weeks after Dumbledore’s death, made all the memories of the funeral and the great white tomb rise up in him afresh. The last time Harry had seen McGonagall, at the funeral, she had been hiding her face in her ugly tartan handkerchief, her shoulders shaking violently as she tried to control her sobs. But now she was as composed and unruffled as ever, though he noticed that her dark hair in its tight bun was now threaded with a few strands of silver, and her already stern face had grown sharper and more severe than ever before.



“Good evening, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, evening, Miss Granger,� she said, nodding curtly at them all. “How are you, Potter?� she added in a gentler tone, eyeing him over the top of her spectacles.



“Oh--fine thanks, Professor,� he answered automatically, but her mouth thinned sceptically as she scrutinised him. To his relief though, she did not pursue the subject. Harry avoided her gaze as he helped himself to a generous amount of chicken and pumpkin pie. He did not want to talk about Dumbledore.



“Well, I’m sure you three will be glad to hear that Hogwarts is not going to close,� McGonagall said briskly, accepting a goblet of Gillywater from Mrs Weasley. “All the Professors will continue teaching and classes shall resume as normal on September the First. We decided that under the circumstances children would need more magical education than usual, especially, of course, in the area of Defence Against the Dark Arts. We are thinking about doubling the number of Defence lessons and cutting down on less important subject area--Astronomy--Divination--� her mouth curved into a slight smile.



But Harry had no thought of smiling with her. He caught Ron’s eye, trepidation creeping over him, knowing that soon he was going to have to tell Mrs Weasley he was not in fact going back to Hogwarts. Worse, that he was going to lead her youngest son and only daughter right along the road towards darkness and danger, even death. From the corner of his eye he could see Ginny also sharing a worried glance with Hermione.



“Well?� said McGonagall, sharply. “Is it not good news that the school will remain open?� Harry laid his forkful of pie back onto his plate, all hunger forgotten. Beside him, he felt Ron shift nervously in his seat, and glancing over Harry saw Hermione fidgeting with her hair, her cheeks pink. Ginny was now staring determinedly at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap.



“Er,� Harry said, and coughed. “Well, you see, Professor, the thing is, I’ve decided--we’ve decided –�



“We’re not going back to Hogwarts next year,� Hermione suddenly blurted out, as though she couldn’t help herself, looking slightly desperately at McGonagall, then lost all self-control and buried her face in her hands.



There was a dead silence. Then—



“Not--not go back to Hogwarts?� Professor McGonagall said faintly, staring at Hermione in disbelief. But she soon regained her composure, pulling herself up straight in her chair and glaring at them all. “Don’t be ridiculous, Miss Granger! You haven’t completed your education. And you, Mr Potter--what has become of your ambition to train as an Auror? You have not, I trust, changed your mind?�



“No,� Harry began, without any clear idea of what he was going to say. “I--er--�



“Because you do realise that to fight He Who Must Not Be Named and his followers you are going to need the very highest Defence training that we can offer?� Harry said nothing, his insides squirming with guilt as he felt Mrs Weasley’s eyes upon him.



McGonagall’s nostrils flared dangerously.



“Potter, I cannot let you leave. Nor you two,� she added, looking at Ron and Hermione. “Do you propose to set off after You-Know-Who with only OWLs? No Defence against the Dark Arts NEWT, and no Auror training? Surely you see how preposterous –� but at that moment, George interrupted.



“I think you should listen to them first, Professor,� His tone was respectful but firm and McGonagall, after giving George a very disapproving look, finally nodded.



“Very well. Explain.�



Harry took a deep breath, throwing George a grateful glance, but avoiding the eyes of McGonagall or any of the other adults around the table.



“Right. Well, the thing is,� he began, trying to order his thoughts and speak rationally. “There’s a lot of--stuff--I haven’t told you about, stuff that Dumbledore only told me--� there was an audible intake of breath around the table, but Harry ignored it, ploughing on, “And he made me swear not to tell anyone but Ron and Hermione.� Professor McGonagall looked slightly offended, and he added hastily, “But, well--basically, the Daily Prophet is right. I have to go after Voldemort. And because of what Dumbledore showed me, I have to go after him as soon as possible. Because it’s not just a matter of finding him and fighting him. That’s all I can say, really,� he finished slightly lamely, looking up.



The stern lines of McGonagall’s face had relaxed into an anxious, even gentle expression. Mr and Mrs Weasley, however, were looking at each other as though their worst fears had been confirmed.



Mrs Weasley spoke, her voice tremulous. “Oh, Harry. We thought--we guessed you would do this…and you too, my Ron… and Hermione.� She swallowed visibly, her eyes shining with tears. “But Ginny--my only daughter--you’re going too, aren’t you?� McGonagall gasped, and opened her mouth to argue, but then shut it again, seemingly speechless with shock. Ginny looked her mother directly in the eye, her jaw set resolutely, looking prepared for whatever argument Mrs Weasley could throw at her.



The next moment, however, her father turned to her and just said, very tiredly, “We won’t try to stop you, Ginny,� Ginny’s eyes widened in amazement and Harry was completely taken aback. He had been prepared for disagreements, shouting, even threats.



“W-What?� he stammered, “You don’t mind? And you knew?�



“No, we didn’t know, Harry,� said Mrs Weasley, controlling her tears. “But we guessed. We thought there was probably something behind all this Chosen One business, and well--I suppose we’ve always thought you were special, that you would be the one to have to face him in the end. And Ginny--she told us in her letters that you had got together, and she seemed so happy –� She broke off, dabbing at her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief.



“And then,� continued Mr Weasley sadly, “She mentioned you had said you couldn’t be with her anymore, and though she wouldn’t say why, we supposed it would have taken something huge to make you two split up. We know our Ginny,� he added with a small laugh. “What she wants, she usually gets.�



The atmosphere around the table lightened up considerably as everyone, even Mrs Weasley, chuckled, and Ginny went scarlet.



“So,� finished Mr Weasley, “when Ginny came downstairs the other day with that look we knew so well, like she’d got what she wanted again…we figured you’d probably given in,� Harry went red, too.



“I--I shouldn’t’ve,� he said guiltily, “But, well--�



“It’s not your fault, Harry,� said Mrs Weasley with a small smile. “And anyway, we’ve had a little talk in case our guesses turned out to be right, and we decided that Ginny knows what’s best for her. She’s nearly an adult, and after all--we think you could be of a lot of use to Harry, Ginny.�



Ginny looked startled, “You do?� she said. They were the first words she had spoken since her father had given his agreement, and Harry could tell she was completely bowled over by her unexpected good fortune.



“Yes,� said Mrs Weasley, placing her goblet on the table and leaning forward. “Ginny, listen to me. We’ve never told you this before because, well, we didn’t want you getting ideas. But now you are old enough to take this sensibly, and I think,� she said, with a glance at Mr Weasley, who gave her a small nod, “You should probably know now. So you can understand why we’re letting you do this.�



Ginny looked confused, then excited. “What?� she said, eagerly. “What do you know about me?�



Mr Weasley cleared his throat. “Well. nothing is definite, you must understand that, Ginny, but it is a suspicion that Molly and I have had since you were born. Ginny, do you know what the most powerful magic number is in the world? Your mother must have taught you when you were younger.�



Ginny threw half a glance at Harry, who almost laughed. Yes, she and Harry, Ron and Hermione knew only too well what the most powerful magic number was.



“Seven,� she said, and her mother nodded.



“Yes, seven. And you see, Ginny, you are our seventh child.�



“Ye-es,� said Ginny slowly. “I know that.�



“And,� added Mr Weasley, “You are also the first girl born to the Weasley family for seven generations.�



“But, so what? Why is that important?� Ginny said, looking from her father to her mother.



“It’s important because it means you were probably born with a very strong magical potency,� said McGonagall tersely, looking as though she felt against her better judgement to tell any child such things about herself, but Ginny just raised an eyebrow.



“So you’re saying that I naturally have strong magical powers because I’m the seventh child and all that?� she said sceptically.



“We weren’t sure,� said Mrs Weasley gazing at her proudly. “But when you were born we all just expected you to be a boy, because well, all the others were. So we were surprised when you came, and we just knew you were special. Your eyes were always so intelligent. You learnt to walk and talk more quickly than any child I’ve ever seen, and you definitely had more magic spilling out of you than your brothers.� Ginny looked as if she didn’t know whether to laugh or blush. Fred, George and Ron all looked offended.



Mr Weasley smiled. “Yes, Molly and I will never forget the broomstick incident. You wouldn’t remember it, Ginny, but when you were only two years old, Ron broke Fred’s toy broomstick.� Fred gave Ron a mock glare, but only half-heartedly; it seemed he was more interested in seeing where this story was leading.



“Yes,� Mrs Weasley said, looking fondly at Ron, “Ron was trying to fly this tiny broom holding his teddy bear--� Ron went red to the roots of his hair, glancing in embarrassment at Professor McGonagall, who was actually smiling.



“Of course, since he wasn’t gripping the broom handle, he crashed into the wall, right next to you, Ginny. You were terrified. And the next thing we knew, Ron was screaming and this huge black spider was wriggling in his arms.�



Ron shivered in remembrance, and Hermione giggled. Mr Weasley carried on the story. “Well, Ron thought it had been Fred who did it, since Fred was pretty angry that his broom had snapped, but I’d seen Ginny at the moment the broom hit the wall, and after the first shock, your eyes narrowed, and you were staring right at that bear when it changed.� Ginny’s eyes were wide, amazed.



“I did that?� she said, her voice incredulous. “I did that when I was two?�



“You did,� said her father, smiling.



“So it’s your fault I don’t--much like spiders, Ginny!� Ron burst out. “I always blamed Fred!� Fred pretended to look mortally offended.



“My fault, little bro? I wish.�



“So, anyway,� Mr Weasley said hastily, “We knew from then that you had pretty strong powers. Most witches and wizards can’t control their magic without a wand until, oh, years later. Most never achieve that, even. Only the very accomplished can perform controlled wandless magic. Dumbledore, or course, and You-Know-Who. Snape can, I think, and Remus. But there aren’t many, not many at all.� She swelled with pride as she gazed upon her daughter.



But Ginny was looking doubtful. “But, Mum, I haven’t--I can’t--I don’t ever remember doing wandless magic! Why did I stop? Can I still do it?�



“Oh, I’m sure you can do it now, dear, if you try,� said Mrs Weasley. “You used to all the time. I don’t know why you stopped though,� she added, looking slightly doubtful.



Mr Weasley cleared his throat, his ears going red just like Ron’s did when he was embarrassed. “Ah, well dear, I think I might know why. I never told you because I thought you would probably, um, get a bit cross with Ginny…�



Mrs Weasley’s eyes narrowed. “What happened, Arthur?� she said sternly, and Ginny looked at him curiously.



“Yes, what happened, Dad?�



Mr Weasley coughed. “Ahem, well… The last time I ever saw you do controlled magic without a wand was when you were about six, I think. You had made this old branch fly, and were clinging on to it, rocketing all round the garden, but then you slipped and fell off into the pond. I only looked out of the bedroom window just in time to see the fall, and that old branch shoot away without you. You nearly drowned.� He shuddered slightly before continuing. “By the time I’d Apparated over you’d managed to do some more magic, probably uncontrolled, and were out of the water, but you were sobbing and choking and, well, terrified out of your wits. I think that stopped you wanting to do it any more, and well--maybe you just grew up after that forgetting that you ever could.�



Mrs Weasley had gone very pale, “Oh, Ginny…you could have died!� She reached across to hug her daughter, who pulled away, with an embarrassed glance at McGonagall, who had been sitting listening without saying a word.



“Mum,� she muttered, “I’m fine. That was years and years ago. Actually, I remember it now, I think. Well, partly--I remember being in the pond.� Ginny shivered. “But not how I got there. I’d forgotten it till you said that, Dad.�



“Would you try some now?� said Hermione, who had been gazing at Ginny almost in awe. “Try some wandless magic?� Ginny drew a breath shuddery with excitement.



“Oh, yes…what should I try?� she said, her eyes gleaming, but was at that moment interrupted by Professor McGonagall.



“Miss Weasley, you are still underage,� she said severely, her black brows contracting. “You are not permitted to use magic outside school.� Ginny’s face fell, and Harry spoke up.



“But she’s leaving school now--so it surely doesn’t matter? And don’t we need to know if she can do it? And anyway, Dumbledore told me the Ministry can only detect magic in general, not if it’s underage stuff, so if we’re with her…� But his teacher gave him a very stern look and Harry trailed off.



“Mr Potter! It is not a question of whether or not you are found out--� McGonagall began, but Ginny cut in, smirking.



“But what are you going to do, Professor? Expel me?� Professor McGonagall looked taken aback, seeming unable to think of a good enough answer, and while she hesitated, Mrs Weasley spoke.



“Ginny, I don’t want to hear that tone of voice from you again. But Minerva, I think Harry’s right. We do need to see if Ginny can do this wandless magic. If she can--if she is powerful enough--oh, I don’t want to let her go, but if she can help Harry--well, I think it is all of our duties to do what is best for him.� McGonagall seemed to struggle with herself inwardly, evidently reluctant to break the rules, but finally gave in, nodding tersely. Ginny rose and hugged her mother.



“Thanks, Mum,� she said quietly.



“Now, what shall I do?� she asked again, all seriousness forgotten. Her eyes were sparkling with anticipation.



“Just try a simple charm,� said McGonagall quickly. “Nothing too dramatic. If you must do this, we don’t want any accidents--try levitating something small. If you concentrate, you shouldn’t need the words,� she added, as Ginny opened her mouth to say the incantation.



“Oh--all right,� said Ginny, and she looked around the room for a suitable object. Finally she took another deep breath and her whole body tensed in effort.



“AAAAGGHHHH!� Harry almost jumped out of his skin as a terrified yell sounded right in his ear. He leapt up from his chair, whipping his wand from his jeans pocket as he turned and found himself staring in amazement at Ron, who had risen violently from his chair, and was now gripping desperately to the back of it to keep himself from flying up to the ceiling. He, Fred, George, and Hermione all burst out laughing.



“Miss Weasley!� shouted McGonagall, furiously, and Mrs Weasley let out an incoherent shriek.



“Oi! Lemme down!� Ron yelled at his sister, his legs thrashing wildly in the air, unseeingly kicking the chandelier, which smashed.



Ginny started to giggle helplessly, losing her concentration as shards of crystal rained down on the kitchen table, and Ron came down with a huge crash on the tiles.



“Oops--s-sorry!� Ginny panted, still shaking with laughter, and Harry pulled Ron to his feet. Ron collapsed into his chair, a bemused, dazed expression on his face.



“GINNY!� Mrs Weasley bellowed, finding her voice again, and using it to full effect. “THAT WAS COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY!�



“Not to mention, I specifically told you to keep the magical activity to a minimum!� added McGonagall angrily.



“I just wanted to see if I could,� Ginny replied, unfazed. “And I can!� she added, a wicked grin flashing across her face. “Oh, I wish I’d known this sooner.�



Mrs Weasley’s eyes blazed. “This is exactly why we didn’t tell you sooner! I thought you’d be mature enough now not to let it go to your head!�



“Oh, it hasn’t gone to my head,� said Ginny quickly, flushing. “But it is the first time I’ve tried it since I was six. I wanted to do something fun. I won’t do anything like that again,� she added.



“You’d better not,� muttered Ron grumpily, rubbing his arm gingerly. “I landed right on my elbow.�



“Oh,� said Ginny, looking at him slightly repentantly. “Sorry, Ron, I didn’t mean to drop you like that. Here, let me try this--� she added, taking Ron’s arm in her hand. She concentrated for a second, and the large, rising purple bruise faded. Ron raised his eyebrows at his sister, who smiled triumphantly, and Harry heard McGonagall exhale loudly through her nose in astonishment.



“Well,� said Ron, stunned. “If you can do stuff like that, I’m going to drag you with us.�



Mrs Weasley sniffed tearfully, her anger forgotten. “Oh, Ginny! We knew if it came to this, we’d have to let you go… but please, my darling, don’t do anything reckless. If anything happened to you--� she broke off, seemingly unable to speak, and just embraced her daughter again. This time, Ginny didn’t pull away, and Mr Weasley came over and joined the embrace.



Ron looked slightly hurt. He fiddled with his fork in an indifferent manner, but at that moment, his mother let go of Ginny and turned to him, almost knocking him over with the fierceness of her hug. Harry laughed as Ron’s ears turned scarlet, his eyes seeking McGonagall, who was pretending to study her fork intently, though smiling slightly. Ron looked as though he had changed his mind about wanting attention.



Mrs Weasley hugged Hermione too, then turned to Harry, her eyes wet with tears again. She held him for a long time, pressing him to her heart, and as he breathed in her warm, motherly smell and felt the softness of her robes against his face his chest ached with the weight of the things he wanted to say to her. How she’d always been a mother to him--how much he had to thank her for. His heart was heavy with sorrow and the longing to live a normal life, in a family, without the darkness of a prophecy hanging over him and the terrible knowledge that he was a marked man.



When she finally let go, Harry found to his horror that his eyes were wet, and he surreptitiously wiped them on his sleeve as he sank back into his seat. For a while nobody spoke, each one of them lost in their own thoughts.



The creaking of the front door, however, roused the company from the sad, pensive mood that had sunk over them, and a heart-shaped, almost elfin face popped round the door, it’s long, curly mass of bright pink hair swinging before it. Tonks grinned cheerfully at them all.



“Hey, everybody!� she said brightly. “Wotcher, Harry,� she added, beaming at him.



“You seem happy,� said Mr Weasley, smiling at her as he pulled out a chair. “Have you seen Remus lately?�



“You read my mind,� Tonks laughed. “Yes, I saw him last night.� A mischievous grin flickered briefly over her features.



“How is he?� asked McGonagall sharply.



“Oh, fine,� Tonks said happily, accepting a goblet of pumpkin juice from Mrs Weasley. “Yes, he’s very well. He only Apparated over quickly to see me, he stayed for a while,� that wicked grin popped back for a second, and Harry wondered if she were hiding something, before she continued, “He had to go back quite soon though, so he wouldn’t be missed. But it seems he’s convinced Greyback and the others that he was fighting on their side.�



Harry felt as though a weight of anxiety in his chest had just been Vanished away. If Lupin had really managed to persuade the werewolves, perhaps there was hope. Perhaps he wouldn’t be found out and torn to pieces after all. He breathed a sigh of relief that made Ginny’s hair next to him flutter, and heard several similar sighs ripple round the table.



“And,� began Tonks, her cheeks turning the same colour of pink as her hair and her eyes sparkling as she drew a deep breath, evidently unable to keep her secret any longer, “Last night, Remus proposed to me.�



Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs Weasley all squealed. Harry gaped, not believing his ears. But a huge, joyful bubble seemed to rise in his chest at the news, and he beamed at Tonks, who winked back. Fred and George jumped up to wring Tonks’ hand in congratulations.



“Oh, Tonks!� said Professor McGonagall, looking quite overcome. “He really did?�



“Yep,� she replied, her blue eyes dancing with light. “About time, too,� she added with a heartfelt laugh.



“Well, I’m sure we all offer you our warmest wishes for the future,� said Mr Weasley, sincerely, smiling, and Tonks looked over at him, more serious now.



“Yes, I hope everything will turn out all right,� she said, almost sombrely. “We are both doing dangerous work--Remus more than any of us. The Ministry are still after all the werewolves, too.� And behind the light of happiness in her eyes, Harry saw lurking a shadow of fear.



“Yes, Tonks,� said McGonagall, reaching over to pat her on the shoulder. “But you must remember that Remus is a skilled wizard, you yourself are hardly a target of the Death Eaters and after all, all we can do is hope.�



Tonks nodded, though suddenly, illuminated by the light cast by the torches on the walls, she looked very young. “Thanks, Minerva,� she said quietly. “You’re right. We wouldn’t be anywhere without hope.� And she lifted her goblet of pumpkin juice. “To Remus!� she said, smiling again, and everybody followed suit.



“To Remus, and to you, and to all your future years together,� corrected Mr Weasley, raising his Butterbeer to his lips.



“And to hope,� added Hermione quietly.



“To hope,� the company repeated, draining their goblets as one.

Disclaimer: I am just meddling with JKR’s wonderful creations…

Now that they had to prepare for a double wedding, things were suddenly a lot more complicated. Mrs Weasley could be seen rushing up and down the stairs, muttering distractedly about invitations and transport and accommodation arrangements. Although the day of the ceremony (four days time) was still going to be the same, all the wedding plans had to be changed at the last minute. Originally they had intended to hold it at the Burrow--according to Hermione, wizards were traditionally married at the family home of either the bride or the groom. But everyone knew Lupin was still a wanted man, and parading him at a wedding for all to see was probably not the best idea. After sending a long, urgent message by owl to Fleur’s parents and getting an even longer one back, Mrs Weasley announced to their delight that they had decided to have the wedding at Fleur's home in France.

"It's much easier, really," she explained breathlessly, as she buttered them all toast one morning. "There was never really enough room at the Burrow for all our relations--Arthur and I were thinking we'd have to put a temporary Engorgement Charm on the house. But now, what with all Tonks' friends and relations, we'd never manage it."

"Whereabouts in France?" asked Harry, curiously. He had never been abroad before, the Dursleys always having left him to stay with their neighbour Mrs Figg, or Aunt Petunia's snobbish friend Yvonne.

"Bordeaux," said Mrs Weasley, as she bustled around the kitchen, pulling down recipe books from shelves and flicking through them absentmindedly. "Fleur's family have a large mansion there, far more suitable. We should have thought of it in the first place." She smiled at Harry." It'll be lovely. Now, I must go and see if the material for the bridesmaids’ dresses has arrived yet..." and she bustled off.

"You're still being bridesmaid, then?" Harry asked Ginny, who scowled.

"Yeah, me and dear Gabr-r-r-iel," she said, prancing around the room with an exaggerated affected expression. Harry and Ron laughed, though Hermione frowned reprovingly.

"She's not that bad, Ginny," she said, then appeared to change her mind. "Well, a little pretentious, maybe, but nothing too--"

"You've seen her then?" interrupted Harry. "She's been here?"

Ron, Hermione and Ginny nodded.

"A few days before you came," said Hermione. "Bill and Fleur came to talk about wedding arrangements, and they brought her along."

"Right little pain she is, too," added Ron. "Wouldn't stop talking about you, mate. You shouldn't've saved her from the lake that time. Hey, Ginny, you'd better watch out--you've got a rival!"

Harry laughed as Ginny huffed and encircled his waist protectively with her arm. He had pulled Fleur's sister, Gabrielle, out of the Hogwarts lake in his fourth year, as part of the Triwizard Tournament, a wizarding competition he had taken part in. Idly Harry wondered what she was like now.

"We have to wear these stupid dresses," Ginny said grumpily. "Phlegm insisted on this weird light gold colour. I'm going to look like a human-sized fairy in it."

Harry smiled. Ginny never wore dresses. When she was not in her witches' robes, she unfailingly wore very casual outfits; jeans and bright T-shirts. Harry had seen her in dress-robes once before, at the Yule Ball, though as her robes had been second-hand and quite shabby he hadn't really noticed them at the time.

"Oh, I don't know," he said lightly, ignoring Ron's raised eyebrows. "You'd probably look quite nice as a fairy." Ginny perked up slightly at this.

"Well, all I need is a tiara and some wings and I can make it into a fancy-dress wedding!" she said brightly.

"Great idea, little sis," came a voice from the doorway. Fred and George had just entered the kitchen. They slid into seats around the large table.

"Yeah, how about this, do you reckon?" said George, flicking his wand. Instantly, the twins were dressed in huge, swirling black robes, and their faces grew eerily white. They also both sprouted fangs, dripping large amounts of blood down their chins. Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"You don't like our dead vampire look, then, Hermione?" Fred said, changing back into himself with another deft flick of his wand.

"Well--the spell was pretty clever," she said grudgingly. "But I hardly think--"

"Ah, Hermione, they don't need to do anything for fancy-dress," said Harry. "They can just go as themselves--everyone would find them funny--" he ducked, grinning, as Fred threw a piece of toast at his head.

"Bill and Fleur are coming down soon," said George, reaching for a roll. "I'm sure Fleur eez dying to zee you, 'Arry." Harry frisbeed the piece of toast back at him, then paused, realising he'd forgotten to ask after Bill, who'd been savaged by Greyback just over a month ago.

"Er--how's Bill?" he asked awkwardly. Though Greyback hadn't been in werewolf form when he attacked Bill, Harry knew Bill was still a damaged man, and he wasn't sure how Ron--or any of the Weasleys--was taking it.

"Bill's not bad," Ron said, his expression unreadable. "He's pretty much normal, but at the full moon it's difficult for him."

"He doesn't transform, does he?" asked Harry, in surprise.

"No-o, not exactly." said Ron slowly. "But he told us he feels almost like a wolf in a human body." Ginny was gazing sadly at the crust of her toast, not seeming to really see it.

Ron continued. "He had to lock himself in his room the first time the full moon came, to stop himself from attacking Fleur--he kind of said it like it didn't matter, but I dunno, it can't be great..." and he trailed off, looking disturbed. Harry wished he'd never said anything.

"Er," he said awkwardly, not really knowing what he was going to say. "Well--at least he doesn't transform--"

"And it's only once a month, after all," said Hermione, comfortingly. Ron nodded, looking slightly more cheerful, and Fred and George got up briskly, waving their wands so that their plates flew into the stone sink and began busily cleaning themselves.

Mrs Weasley popped her head round the door. "Could you lot come upstairs for a minute? You need to try on your wedding outfits. Walk quietly," she reminded, and they tiptoed past the portrait of Sirius' mother, which fortunately remained asleep, up to Hermione's bedroom where Mrs Weasley had laid out all the dress robes.

Harry held up the ones Mrs Weasley had got him. They were a soft, pale blue, cut in a fashionable way so the sleeves and hem hung loosely and elegantly. In his opinion they looked incredibly stupid, but Ron, Hermione, Fred and George all had similar robes, so he decided not to say anything. Fred, however, gazed at his in horror, blurting out, "Mum--what is that?"

Mrs Weasley sighed. "Fleur's family want everyone in blue, and the same style French robes. It's how they do it there," she added snappily. "And since they're letting us use their house for the wedding, you'd better not complain."

The twins snorted, but didn't argue. Experience had evidently taught them that picking a fight with their mum when she was in a bad temper was not an agreeable experience.

"Oh, and Harry, I think you'd better look in at Hedwig," Mrs Weasley added, folding up the robes carefully. "She was hooting in your room when I was up here just now."

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Ron, Hermione and Ginny. If Hedwig was back, she'd have an answer from the Ministry of Magic about the visit to Azkaban.

They excused themselves as quickly as they could without arousing suspicion and made their way to Harry and Ron's room. Hedwig was perched on Harry's bedpost, clicking her beak in pleasure as she saw him. Harry hurried over to her, taking her on to his arm and untying the scroll of yellow parchment from her leg. She nibbled his earlobe affectionately, and Harry took her over to her cage, opening the door so she could get inside and have a drink and some owl treats.

"What's it say?" said Ron in a low voice, glancing at the door. Hermione shut it, and Harry unfurled the parchment, carrying it over to the window so it was illuminated by the pale morning light.

Dear Mr Potter and friends (he read)
We would be delighted to have you visit Azkaban. Certainly you may pay a visit to Mr Fletcher. If you meet me at the Ministry Entrance Hall at 11.00 next Monday, the 1st of August, I shall be more than happy to escort you.
Yours sincerely,
Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic, Order of Merlin (Second Class), Auror of the First Division, High Judge of the Wizengamot.

Harry frowned and the others all gasped.

"Scrimgeour?" said Ron, in surprise.

"But how did he get hold of the letter?" Hermione asked, then answered herself, "The person who received it must have shown it to him..." She trailed off thoughtfully. Harry reread the letter, his disgust growing every second.

"'More than happy to escort me,’" he said savagely. "I'll bet he is. He'd been trying to find out what Dumbledore was up to and now he's doing it to me."

"Well, let him come, I say," said Hermione, and they all looked over at her in surprise. "We can tell him it's about family issues," she continued serenely. "It's the best chance we have of talking to Mundungus, and we'd better not throw it away." Harry couldn't argue with that, but privately he thought that Scrimgeour would do his best to find a way of listening in.

"Well, all right," he said. "We'll just have to find a way of communicating to him what we want to know about the locket, without Scrimgeour hearing. That fine with everyone?" he added, and Ron and Ginny nodded, though they both looked doubtful. But the clang of the doorbell downstairs and the resultant shrieks from the portrait floating upstairs stopped any further conversation. Harry hastily grabbed a spare piece of parchment, scribbling an answer in the affirmative to Scrimgeour, and sent Hedwig off again. She gave him a reproachful look out of her large amber eyes as she spread her wings, and he followed Ron, Hermione and Ginny down the stairs feeling slightly guilty for asking her to go off again so soon.

“’Arry!� The throaty cry echoed up the stairs, and the next moment Harry found himself being crushed to the bosom of a very beautiful young woman, whose silvery hair cascaded to her waist. “Eet ees so nice to see you again, ‘Arry!�

“Er--hi, Fleur,� he muttered, feeling his cheeks flame with embarrassment as he saw Ron and Hermione struck with silent fits of the giggles. He disentangled himself as politely as he could, and saw Bill standing just behind Fleur. The scars on his face had not faded and he was definitely not the same, handsome man he had once been. But he was smiling, and Harry could tell that his personality had not changed.

“Gabby ees so ‘appy that you will be zere at our wedding, ‘Arry,� Fleur told him, taking him by the hand and leading him into the kitchen.

“Right,� he said awkwardly. What could he say about a girl he’d only seen once in his life, albeit that in that time he had saved her from the clutches of wild merpeople who inhabited the lake. Luckily, at that moment Mrs Weasley came over with a tray of tea and biscuits and the conversation moved on.

“Are we going to see Tonks and Remus before the day?� Mr Weasley asked his eldest son.

“I think they’re too busy getting ready,� said Bill. “They only decided to get married yesterday, after all. And what with you insisting on having the ceremony together, Mum…�

Mrs Weasley looked annoyed. “Does no one think it was a good idea?� she said snappily. “Unless you would have preferred to prepare for two separate weddings. In these times one is dangerous enough--� her hand flew to her mouth.

“Dangerous?� purred Fleur, smiling. “Why, what could zere possibly be zat ees dangerous at a wedding, Molly? She sipped her drink delicately, looking unconcerned.

“Oh, nothing,� Mrs Weasley said hastily. “Here, have a biscuit, Fleur…�

But all the others seemed to have guessed what Mrs Weasley had been thinking. Bill was biting his lower lip, and Fred and George looked uncharacteristically sober. Harry suddenly realised that Mrs Weasley was right. The Death Eaters were out to make the wizarding world entirely pureblooded, and they targeted Muggleborns and blood-traitors. Tonks, a member of one of the oldest wizarding families, already disowned since her father was a Muggle, marrying Remus Lupin, a traitor to the werewolves and once friend to Sirius Black and James Potter, would definitely be seen as disloyal to the wizarding race. And the Weasleys, all blood-traitors… if Bill married Fleur, who was part Veela, they would possibly be another target. Harry’s insides twisted uncomfortably. But then;

“Is your family home Unplottable, Fleur?� asked Hermione.

“But of course,� said Fleur, looking surprised. “Ze Delacour mansion ees so large, we do not want Muggles wandering in by mistake! And also my grandmuzzer wished zat her family would not be able to find her. She was a Veela, and ze rest of her family, zey were not very pleased zat she wanted to marry a wizard.�

Mrs Weasley gave a small sigh of relief, and Harry felt his stomach unclench. Death Eaters shouldn’t be able to find an Unplottable building. They would just have to watch out after they were married.

“We’re probably worrying over nothing,� said Mr Weasley. “I doubt that anybody we have not told ourselves knows of the wedding. Tonks obviously doesn’t want it widely publicised that’s she’s marrying Remus, since the Ministry are still wasting their time trying to find him.�

Everyone nodded, rather more reassured. Fleur still looked as though she didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Her attention was all on Bill as she gazed at him adoringly through her large, nearly-violet eyes.

“Oh, boys,� said Mr Weasley suddenly. “I nearly forgot--your Apparition test is booked for tomorrow. We wanted you to be able to Apparate to Bordeaux, since the Ministry would probably notice if we tried to set up an unauthorised Portkey.�

Ron looked apprehensive at the thought of trying to Apparate to France--he’d had particular difficulty with Apparition lessons--but Harry wasn’t particularly worried. He’d managed to Apparate illegally quite a lot last year.

“Okay,� he said. “Where’s the test going to be?�

“Hogsmeade,� said Mrs Weasley, as she pottered around the huge kitchen, and began to make lunch. Harry and Ron looked at each other, surprised. Hogsmeade was right up North, near Hogwarts, and it took nearly a whole day’s travelling on the school train to get there from London.

“We’re going all the way to Hogsmeade for the test?� said Harry, bewildered. “Why?�

“Well, traditionally all Apparition tests are held there,� said Mr Weasley. “Since it’s the only all-wizard village in Britain, if there are any accidents, Muggles won’t notice.�

“Except for Charlie,� said Ron, sniggering. “The one and only who manages to Apparate all the way to a Muggle town by accident.�

“I don’t think the old biddy he landed on ever got over the shock,� said Fred.

“Probably traumatised her for life,� added George.

“At least he didn’t forget to take half an eyebrow with him,� said Mrs Weasley, irritated. Ron scowled. He’d failed his test the last time because he’d left behind half an eyebrow.

“Won’t we have to Apparate to get to the Apparition test in time tomorrow, though?� asked Harry, grinning.

“No,� Mr Weasley said, absent-mindedly. “We’ve got permission to set up a Portkey to get you there. It’s at eight o' clock tomorrow morning, so you two had better get up early.� Ron groaned.

“How am I getting to the wedding?� asked Ginny. “I can’t Apparate yet.�

“We’ll have to do Side-Along Apparition,� said Mr Weasley. “It’s only supposed to be used in emergencies, but as they’re watching the Floo Network for Death Eaters and we can’t use a Portkey, it’s the best way to get there unnoticed. We don’t want to alert the Ministry that we’re going to a wedding, or they’ll probably find Remus.�

---

The next day dawned sunny and bright, a thin ray of early morning sunshine across Harry’s closed eyelids causing him to wake. Getting up, he walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains, gazing out at the grey houses opposite, which looked unusually pretty with the rooftops glowing with warm light and a long line of purple-tinted trees swaying in the distance. With a little difficulty he opened the stiff window, and the delightful scent of summer air laced with apple blossom wafted into the room. He let it drift over him, feeling at that moment at peace with the world. It was hard to believe that Voldemort and his followers were out there killing and destroying and taking over everywhere.

A noise behind him made him jump and turn round, and he saw that Hedwig had returned. She clicked her beak at him in greeting as her walked over and gently stroked her snowy head. So that’s it then, Harry thought--the message had been sent to the Minister, and Scrimgeour was going to come with them to Azkaban. Harry knew he would never be able to get on with the interfering, officious Ministry, and he whole-heartedly sympathised with Dumbledore, who had been forced to put up with their endless questions about his doings.

He walked over to shake Ron awake. All he got for his efforts was a muffled groan as Ron yawned into his pillow.

“Apparition test today, mate,� Harry said brightly. Ron appeared not to have heard him, then all of a sudden sank further under the bedclothes.

A mumbled, “I’m going to fail again,� came from beneath the duvet.

“Well, you’re not going to have any chance of passing if you don’t get up,� said Harry unsympathetically, pulling back the bedclothes and rolling Ron onto the floor.

“All right, all right, I’m up,� grumbled Ron, getting to his feet and dusting off his paisley pyjamas. “You’ll turn into Mum if you’re not careful. I’m just going to hold on to my eyebrows this time…�

They dressed quickly and went downstairs to the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was already making breakfast.

“Oh, you’re up,� she said. “That’s good, I was just coming to wake you. Have some toast, both of you. I would fry a bit of bacon but it’s probably best you don’t Apparate on a full stomach.�

Ron had gone slightly green, and Harry punched him comfortingly on the arm.

“You’ll be fine,� he said, hoping it was true. “You nearly did it last time, so you’ll be even better this time. Just hold on to your eyebrows,� he added, grinning. Ron shot him a dirty glance. They finished their toast in silence. Harry wasn’t particularly bothered about the test, since he knew he could Apparate--this was just to make it legal for him to do so. Instead of worrying about the test, Harry mused on what he would do once he could Apparate. They had planned to go to Godric’s Hollow, the village where James and Lily Potter had lived. Harry had a yearning deep inside him to visit his parents' graves and to see the place where he had spent the first, happy year of his life.

Mrs Weasley was looking around the kitchen for a suitable object. “This’ll do,� she said, picking up a large silver platter, the Black family crest embossed on the base. She touched her wand lightly to its centre and said, “Portus.� For a second the platter glowed bright blue and Harry could see it vibrating slightly.

“Feeling all right?� said Mrs Weasley with a smile. Harry nodded, though Ron just let out a sort of nervous grunt.

"All right then. Go now, quickly--and good luck!" They placed their hands on the platter.

Harry felt the familiar tug behind his navel and they were off, whirling amidst a rush of colour and sound. A few seconds later, his trainers came into contact with hard ground and he staggered, but kept his feet.

“Ah, good morning, boys!� a wheezy voice welcomed them. Turning round, Harry saw the familiar wrinkled face of Wilkie Twycross, his Apparition instructor at Hogwarts.

“You are ready?� the little man said, taking the platter and motioning them over to a spot just outside Honeydukes, the sweetshop. Ron looked alarmed at being asked to Apparate so quickly, and tripped twice over his own feet as he stumbled to the spot Twycross pointed him to.

“I would like you to Apparate to Scrivenshafts. You both know where that is?� They nodded. “On the count of three then.�

Ron shifted nervously, beads of sweat on his forehead. Harry could see him screwing up his face in concentration.

“One, two…three!�

They turned on the spot, Harry thinking as hard as he could about Scrivenshafts, letting his body pull away from the earth into thin air, and next moment, felt the usual, unpleasant sensation of being compressed in a very small tube, before he felt firm ground beneath him, and gasping, looked around to find himself directly outside the quill shop. He heard a faint popping sound and glanced around to see Ron hurrying over to him. He appeared to have gone past Scrivenshafts to the next shop.

A second pop, and Twycross stood next to them. “Ah, very good, boys!� Ron looked apprehensive, but Twycross didn’t seem to have noticed that Ron hadn’t in fact appeared in the right place. Harry was thankful that the shop couldn’t be seen from Honeydukes. Ron looked even more relieved, but was evidently trying not to let it show on his face. Harry grinned as he saw Ron anxiously feeling his eyebrows.

“Well, here are your certificates,� said Twycross, meticulously signing two large purple pieces of paper before handing them to them. “And your Portkey,� he added, giving Ron the platter and smiling. “You won’t need it any more.�

But they didn’t Apparate straight back to the Burrow. Harry had a better idea.

“While we’re so close, why don’t we visit Hagrid?� he suggested once Twycross had gone, and Ron agreed enthusiastically.

“We’ll have to use the Honeydukes passage to get into the castle, though, the gates’ll be locked,� said Harry thoughtfully, and he pulled out his Invisibility Cloak from his pocket. Dumbledore had requested him to take it wherever he went, and at moments like this Harry was glad that he still did so.

“We’ll have to put this on,� he said, throwing it over himself and Ron. “It’ll be much harder getting down to the cellar without lots of students there distracting the owners.�

So they crept into the sweetshop, which Harry had never seen before when it wasn’t crammed with Hogwarts students. The owners were chatting to an incredibly ugly warlock, and Harry and Ron managed to tiptoe past them and down to the cellar without too much difficulty. Moments later they had thrown off the cloak and were running down the long, familiar earthen passageway and into Hogwarts.

After about twenty minutes of hurrying down the passageway they came to the point when it began to rise, and they climbed out carefully from the statue of the one-eyed witch. Harry threw the Cloak back around them, unsure if Filch stayed at Hogwarts during the summer.

For a while, both of them just stood there as the memories of six action packed years crashed over them. There had been good times and terrible times, but Hogwarts was one of the few places Harry had always felt safe. Though it was strange and lonesome knowing that Albus Dumbledore was no longer Head of the school, always there watching over his students and smiling serenely.

For a while, Harry almost wished he had not come back. The nostalgia was suffocating, and more than ever he wished he could just stay here for his seventh year, stay with Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean in the dormitory, keep captaining Quidditch, eat in the Great Hall surrounded by people he'd known since he was eleven...to his horror he felt tears beginning to prick behind his eyes. Grateful for the Cloak that hid him, he hastily nudged Ron and muttered, "We'd better get going, we still need to find a way out." For of course the front doors would be locked.

They moved as fast as they could under the Cloak down to the ground floor. Harry pulled out his wand, tapped the nearest window that looked out onto the grounds and whispered, "Alohomora!" The lock of the window clicked, and Ron pushed it open silently. Everything went smoothly, until they began climbing through. They were relieved to be getting out of the castle (Harry had felt discomfited creeping around in the deserted corridors, feeling like a spy or a thief) but a loud miaow sounded suddenly behind them and Harry jumped in panic, the Cloak slipping off him as he went for his wand. Mrs Norris, the caretaker Filch's foul cat, had crept up behind them. She stared at Harry for the briefest second out of her large, dirty-yellow eyes before whipping around and streaking out of the Great Hall, undoubtedly to fetch her master.

Harry hurriedly clambered out to join Ron in the grounds, slamming the window shut and muttering, "Colloforis!" The lock sealed itself with a little squelching sound and Harry dived under the Cloak just as Argus Filch appeared at the window, jowls wobbling suspiciously as he peered out at the grounds. Harry and Ron froze, hearts in their mouths, watching Filch, who stood there for a long time testing the window-lock, before turning and examining the area around. But he seemed to decide it was a false alarm, for they saw him turn and walk away, Mrs Norris prowling behind him.

They breathed again, and hurried off to Hagrid's hut, which had been inexpertly repaired. The night of Dumbledore's death the hut had been set on fire by a Death Eater, and the blackened wood had been chopped out and none-too-skilfully replaced. But the thin line of smoke trickling out from the chimney showed them that Hagrid was still living there.

Harry took off the Cloak, shoved it in his pocket, and knocked on the door, calling, "Hagrid, it's us!" To his surprise he could hear voices, and he wondered who would be in the hut with Hagrid.

The door flew open, and Hagrid towered there, filling the doorway and looking surprised but delighted.

"You two! What are yeh doin' here? Hermione's here as well!"

"Hermione?" said Harry and Ron together, as Hagrid motioned them in. Fang rushed over to them and began happily licking them both, his whole body wriggling with delight. Hermione rose from the chair she had been sitting in, looking bewildered.

"Harry, Ron--why are you here? I thought you were doing your Apparition test!"

"Done it," said Ron loftily, producing the certificate with a flourish. Hermione looked stunned, then beamed and hugged him. "Oh, well done, Ron! You passed too, Harry?"

He nodded. "Yeah, then we thought we'd come visit Hagrid. But what about you, Hermione? Why--"
"Oh, I Apparated up to take some books out of the library," said Hermione. "For our lessons, you know." She indicated to a large pile of books on the floor. "I asked Professor McGonagall and she said it was fine, she opened the school up for me."

Harry and Ron looked at each other. "So, the front doors were unlocked?" Ron said casually. "And the gate?" Hermione nodded.

"Why--how did you get in?" she asked, looking puzzled.

"Never mind," said Harry hastily. He knew Hermione wouldn't have approved of them sneaking in and out of Hogwarts through secret passages and windows. "We found a different entrance," he added vaguely as she raised an eyebrow, and sat down in one of Hagrid's huge wooden chairs, accepting the cup of strong dandelion tea offered him.

"So, how's yer summer been, all of yeh?" asked Hagrid, passing round some rock cakes, which they politely declined, saying they'd just had breakfast. They'd had enough experience of Hagrid's rock cakes to know they were true to their name.

"Oh, all right," said Ron, gulping his tea. "It's Bill's wedding on Thursday."

"Yeah, I'll be there, Ron," said Hagrid, smiling. "Wouldn't miss out on yer brother's big day. And how're yeh gettin' on with--yeh-know-what, Harry?" he added in a low voice, as though Death Eaters might have been eavesdropping through the walls. Harry lowered his teacup in surprise.

"What do you mean?" he said quickly. "What--what have you been told?"

"Nothin' much," said Hagrid, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "But Minerva said yeh three weren't comin' back ter Hogwarts next year, an' I reckon this all this Chosen One stuff that the Prophet keeps spoutin' mightn't be too far off the mark, eh, Harry?"

Harry said nothing. More and more people were starting to learn the truth, or at least part of it, and it made him uneasy. Dumbledore had told him, after all, to keep it quiet, yet it was leaking out in dribs and drabs and at this rate, Voldemort was going to guess the truth. He might even ensure that his Horcruxes were even more impossible to find. Harry silently cursed the Prophet.

"Harry," came Hagrid's voice, gently. "It's a rough time for yeh. Yeh shouldn't have ter do this, but it looks like yeh've bin singled out, an' tha's always hard. But yeh can do it, Harry, I know yeh can."

And Harry looked into Hagrid's warm, beetle-black eyes and smiled. It lightened his heart to know that Hagrid trusted him so.

"Yeah, reckon yeh'll do all righ'," Hagrid continued, reaching over the table to pat Harry on the back, knocking him forwards so that he spilt his tea all over the table. "Knew Tom Riddle at Hogwarts an' all, and yeh're just as powerful as he ever was."

Somehow Harry doubted this, knowing that Hagrid looked at him through rose-tinted glasses. But Hagrid's faith in him gave him a warm feeling inside, and he felt slightly more optimistic about what lay ahead of him.

"What was Riddle like at school, Hagrid?" asked Hermione. Harry glanced at her, unsure if it was wise to talk about Riddle right now, since it had been he who had got Hagrid framed and expelled in his third year. But though Hagrid's face darkened for a second at the memory, he seemed not to mind talking about it with them.

"Yeh wouldn'ta known what he was going to become," Hagrid said quietly. "Always polite to teachers, always top o' the class... but there were some nasty things which happened, mind, which I reckon he was behind. One Hufflepuff, Geraldine McKinnon, she argued with him in her first year--always a reckless one, she was--an' a few hours later she disappeared an' was found, couple o' days after, locked in one o' the dungeons they didn't use. She wouldn't tell anyone how it really happened. And, o’ course, Myrtle Goglum was killed when he opened the Chamber." They all nodded, knowing her, or rather her ghost quite well. Moaning Myrtle inhabited a girl's toilet and was incessantly gloomy.

"Yeah," said Hagrid soberly. "Shame, she weren't the mos’ cheerful one, but very smart--though tha's not surprisin', is it?"

"Why not?" asked Hermione.

Hagrid looked surprised. "Eh? Yeh don't know what she was?" They shook their heads.

"Oh, thought yeh woulda heard 'bout it. Thought she mighta told yeh all them times yeh went visitin' her--"

"We didn't go to visit her!" said Harry, embarrassed. "How do you know we know her, anyway, Hagrid?" He'd never told Hagrid about the times he'd spoken to Myrtle, mostly because they had all been at times when he was doing something he shouldn't have been. Such as making secret Polyjuice Potion in the girls' toilets and trying to get into the Chamber of Secrets, going to the Prefects' bathroom in the middle of the night. The memory of suddenly realising Myrtle had been sitting on a tap watching him during his bath still haunted Harry.

"Ah, well, she comes to see me sometimes when I go up ter the castle," said Hagrid, smiling. "I'm the only one o' her old classmates left in the school now, yeh see, so she likes a chat now an' then...likes ter talk about how she died, mostly, but there yeh go. Hear a lot about yeh though, Harry...reckon Ginny mighta got competition, eh?"

Harry elbowed him good-naturedly. "Yeah, she did tell me I could share her toilet if I died in the Chamber," he said, grinning. "But what's so special about her anyway?"

"Well, don' reckon many people know 'bout this, she kep' it pretty quiet since she didn't really have any friends at Hogwarts, but she told me one time I was up at the castle, she was actually the las' descendant of Ravenclaw."

Harry, Ron and Hermione all gasped in shock.

"Myrtle?" said Ron incredulously. "Moaning Myrtle, Ravenclaw's heir? No way..."

"Yeah," said Hagrid. "Reckon she wasn' lying, neither. She was a pureblood, see? Only one o' all them as was attacked. So there shouldn'ta bin any reason fer Riddle ter set that Basilisk on her. She used ter wear this necklace, see, really old it was--made all out o' some precious stone. But she tol' me it was stolen when she died. Pretty upset she was 'bout it, too." Hagrid shook his head, sadly. "I dunno, killing her then robbin' her body as well. Well, s'pose this is You-Know-Who we're talkin' about--but see, tha' necklace was probably the las' survivin' relic o' Rowena Ravenclaw."

For a while Harry just sat there, stunned. So the opal necklace had belonged to Moaning Myrtle. He still couldn't get his head around the idea that the sulky, miserable ghost had been Ravenclaw's heir. He had talked to Myrtle about her death before--she had been more than happy to do so--but once she had confirmed his suspicions that the monster Slytherin's heir had been setting on students was a Basilisk, Harry had not bothered to find out any more.

Hagrid, of course, was still unaware that they believed the necklace to be a Horcrux, seeing as Harry had never even told him Voldemort's secret. Harry was still trying to keep it as closely guarded as possible; also, he did not want to worry Hagrid.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, shaking his shaggy head again. "Myrtle had her trinket nicked an’ came back ter try an' find it. She reckon’d Olive Hornby took it, see, since Olive was the firs' to see her after she died. Followed her roun’ fer months, tryin’ ter get it back. Never tol' anyone, she was a smart girl, Myrtle--knew if Olive ever foun’ out why she was followin’ her, she'd mos' likely hide that necklace even better, jus’ ter spite her. Never did like Olive, meself. But nah, Myrtle never did get it back. An' the Ministry got her ter stop hauntin’ Olive, in the end. Reckon I'm the only one as knows the real reason she had fer comin’ back as a ghost...o' course, it musta been Tom as really took it, but she wouldn't never b’lieve me if I told her tha’. She always admired Riddle, yeh know."

Ron let out a great snort of laughter, the thought of Myrtle liking the young Voldemort in that way evidently too much for him, but Harry's mind was elsewhere. Hagrid had never, to Harry's knowledge, actually seen the necklace that had cursed Katie Bell last year, so he wouldn't have recognised it as Myrtle's. Yet Harry knew how much Dumbledore had trusted Hagrid, and now he wondered if Dumbledore had ever told Hagrid what he had done with the necklace. But how to ask Hagrid without making him suspicious? Harry knew he had to follow up any possible clues he could find.

"Hagrid," he said reluctantly, but trying to keep his voice casual. Hagrid looked at him at once, concern in his beetle-black eyes.

"Somethin' the matter, Harry?"

Hagrid knew him far too well.

"Well, yes," Harry said slowly, wondering where to begin. He still didn't want Hagrid to know about the Horcruxes. Not because he didn't trust Hagrid--he knew the man would die before he deliberately gave away confidences--but he also knew, from experience, that Hagrid sometimes accidentally let things slip.

"Er, Hagrid? Can I ask you something, if you don't ask me why I want to know?"

Hagrid looked surprised and slightly hurt, but answered readily enough, "O' course yeh can, Harry."

"D'you knows what Dumbledore did with that necklace, the one that cursed Katie Bell?"

Harry could see the light dawn in Hagrid's eyes as he linked together the conversation about Myrtle and this question, but true to his word, he did not ask.

"Sorry, he never told me tha', Harry," Hagrid said apologetically, looking disappointed he couldn't help. "S'pose he musta destroyed it--doubt he woulda wanted a dangerous thing like that hangin' around."

Hope lifted in Harry's heart. If Dumbledore really had destroyed the necklace without realising what it was then that only left two more Horcruxes to find: the cup and the snake, Nagini. But Hermione doused his hopes with a look that said as clearly as words "We can't just take that as fact, Harry." She was right, too, he mused. Harry realised that he had been far too eager to believe her, and, disappointed that they would still have to find out exactly what had happened to the necklace, he rose.

"We'd better get back," he said. "Thanks, Hagrid--you've really helped."

"Well, tha's good," said Hagrid bemusedly. "Wha' exactly did I help with?"

Harry smiled and hugged the giant man around the waist. "Never mind. It's been great seeing you, anyway."

Ron and Hermione rose too, Hermione picking up all the books from the library and stuffing them into her bag.

"See you at the wedding, Hagrid!" she said brightly, slinging the bag over her shoulder.
"Yeah," said Hagrid, smiling. "Still can't b'lieve Bill's gonna be married...remember him when he was jus' a tiny firs' year here at Hogwarts. Be Charlie next then, hey?"

Ron grinned. "Maybe. He came back from Romania for the summer but we haven't seen much of him--he's very busy showing Flavia round London, apparently--taken enough time to show her round half of Europe..."

Hagrid chuckled as Harry asked curiously, "Who's Flavia?"

"This girl he brought back from Romania," Ron said, smirking.

"She's nice," added Hermione. "Better than Fleur, at any rate. You'll see her at the wedding."

Harry nodded. He was glad that people could still find love even in these dark times, and he thought wistfully of Ginny. If only they could be together...but he knew that any relationship with her would have to wait until after the war, if he even managed to make it through alive. A loud jingling distracted him from his dark thoughts, and he saw Hagrid pulling out a huge bunch of rusty keys of all shapes and sizes from a drawer.

"C'mon then," said Hagrid. "Gotta lock up after yeh've gone."

So they trooped out of the grounds, making their way to the front gates, which were flanked by winged boars. It was a longer distance from the castle than it looked, and it took them a good ten minutes to get there. They all gave Hagrid one last hug and then the giant swung the massive iron gates back into place with an almighty clang. "Well, see yeh in a couple o' days," he said, smiling, as he inserted the largest, knobbliest key of all into the keyhole. It turned with a horrible screeching sound, and the lock shuddered violently; without warning it exploded into white flames--Hermione gasped--and threw out such a blinding light Harry had to shut his eyes. Evidently the key had activated McGonagall's spells on the gates. As the flames didn't seem to be getting any less for the time being, Harry, Ron, and Hermione waved, squinting at the hulking outline of Hagrid through the dazzling glow of brightness, before turning together on the spot and Disapparating.

---

Before they knew it, the wedding day was upon them. That morning, Grimmauld Place was a beehive of activity; people kept colliding in doorways as they rushed around trying to get ready. As Harry changed into his French-style dressrobes, feeling stupider than ever, he could hear Ginny in the room above having an argument with Mrs Weasley--apparently she really didn't feel pale gold was her thing. Ron and Harry laughed as they felt a battle royal coming on between Mrs Weasley and her daughter.
But half an hour later, Ginny had lost and was standing grumpily in the front room wearing a very pretty, floaty dress with bad grace, though Harry thought she looked wonderful, swathed in the glimmering golden material, and he told her so. She snorted in reply, and Harry gave up, grinning.

"Come on, come on, we're going to be late at this rate!" Mrs Weasley came hurrying into the room, hastily sticking hairpins into the neat knot of hair at the back of her neck, which she had charmed to fall in curls. Harry had to work very hard to restrain himself from cracking up with laughter when he saw Fred, George, and Mr Weasley join them, all dressed in the same elegant, pale blue dressrobes. The twins looked especially weird out of their habitual dragonskin jackets, but Harry, looking down at his own attire, decided to keep his mouth shut. Hermione was the only one whose dressrobes suited her; they reminded Harry of the ones she had worn at the Yule Ball in their fourth year.
"Right, you lot, Marguerite sent a picture of their house--just look at it for a bit before you Disapparate, we don't want to lose any of you now, so make sure you know where you're going. Aim for that spot below the hill--it's rude to Apparate right outside someone's front door."

The mansion in the photo looked enormous, and very stylish, and Harry gazed at the white marble and twisting pillars in surprise, only having realised at this moment quite what a noble family Fleur came from--the mansion was nearly akin to a palace. Around him he felt everyone beginning to move, preparing to Apparate, and so he straightened up, focusing on the photograph and letting his desire to get there flow through him as he turned.

Hurtling through a narrow tunnel, his breath squeezed out of him--the journey was taking forever--Harry finally felt his feet slam into the ground and he staggered, suddenly finding that his knees were weak and he was feeling exhausted. Fred and George were already there and they supported him, looking worn out themselves, as the rest of the company joined them. Ron immediately flopped on to the ground, shading his face with his hand from the blazing sun.

"Hey, that's amazing!" said Ginny, letting go of her father's arm, which she had been clutching for the Side-Along Apparition. "I've never Apparated before!" She bounced happily over to Harry, who was wondering how on earth the girl could have so much energy after Apparating so far. He still felt like he had run a ten-mile race. But he had got his breath back now, and was starting to appreciate the beauty of the area around him. It was completely silent apart from the rustling of their robes, a deep, lonely silence, and as he breathed in the delicious air Harry felt as though nothing could ever really disturb the peace in this place. He savoured the sweet, spicy scent seeming to waft from the wild pink flowers twining around the many slender beeches dotting the landscape, and behind it Harry could almost taste the faint tang of the sea. Ginny stood beside him, and they drank in the glorious scenery together, watching a lone gull soar through the cloudless blue sky.

"Ron! Get up at once, you'll get grass-stains all over your dressrobes," said Mrs Weasley sharply, flapping her hands at him and waking Harry and Ginny from their reverie.

"Yeah, and that'll make them look really stupid," muttered Ron under his breath as he reluctantly dragged himself up from the soft grass, and glaring darkly at his silky blue robes.

They began to make their way up the hill towards the massive house, which stood alone on the hill, dominating the land around. It seemed to Harry even more magnificent than in the photo, its gleaming marble reflecting the golden sunlight as it towered above them, and reminded him almost of a Greek temple.

"Molly! Arthur! Is zat you?" A distant cry came from the house and Harry saw a figure sweep gracefully from the front door and begin to float--or that's what it looked like to Harry--towards them.

"Marguerite," said Mrs Weasley, smiling as the tall, elegant woman reached the group. Harry needed no introduction to guess this was Fleur's mother, for their faces were very similar--the same high cheekbones, finely chiselled nose and full mouth. The long blonde hair was also identical to Fleur's, shining eerily silver even in the bright sunlight.

"And you, of course, are 'Arry Potter!" Marguerite extended a gracious hand, and Harry shook it. But there was no more time for introductions for at that moment a stifled squeal sounded from above them and Harry, looking wildly towards the source of the noise, saw the petite form of a girl with clouds of wispy hair standing on the doorstep.

Harry remembered Gabrielle well from the encounter in the Hogwarts lake, but hadn't been quite prepared to see the little child he had rescued grown into such a beautiful young girl. As they reached the top of the hill and began to climb the steps to the front door, Harry got the strangest urge to leave Ginny and go over to Gabrielle...why was he holding Ginny's hand? He let go, formulating vague plans for impressing the beautiful girl with such fine, delicate features standing before him--perhaps he should tell her about the rest of the Triwizard Tournament, how he'd fought his way through the maze and past the dragon, to win the glittering Triwizard Cup...but as he opened his mouth to speak, another image came unbidden into his mind; that of the Cup gleaming on the stand in the closed darkness of the tall hedges, with the shadowed face of Cedric Diggory staring at him over the rim.

What was he thinking? He hadn't won the Tournament at all. It should have been Cedric's. Harry shook his head to clear it of the confused jumble of feelings towards Gabrielle and guilt at Cedric's death, at the same time as Ginny prodded him sharply in the side, reminding him exactly who he was supposed to be in love with. Harry's came back to earth with a jolt, and suddenly found he could look at Gabby without her charm working on him any more. Gabby was part-Veela, like Fleur, and part of the power of Veela is to be able to magically attract men-folk to them. Gabby had obviously realised that Harry had overcome her attempt to get him to fall in love with her for a barely perceptible scowl flickered across her pretty face before she replaced it with a forced smile.

"It is nice to meet you, 'Arry," she said, her voice deep and husky. Hermione chuckled quietly, and Harry felt himself go red--it was bad enough that Gabby was infatuated with him without her putting on voices she obviously considered attractive.

Her mother also seemed to notice, for she glanced at her daughter sharply before saying loudly, "Gabrielle, you are sick, non? You 'ave a bad throat?"

Gabby scowled more obviously this time, before replying in a normal voice, "Non, ma mère, my throat is very fine, thank you."

"Good! Well, why are we standing 'ere on ze doorstep? You all must come in..." and so they walked carefully one by one through the great arched door, into the welcome shade, and for a second all paused in the huge hall, taken aback by the enormity and beauty of the place. Ron and Ginny seemed especially in awe--their entire house, the Burrow, could have easily fitted into one of the many rooms branching off the hallway. The whole place was gleaming, shadows cast in soft purple and the many torches hung from stylish brackets throwing out a pale, shimmering light that made the cool white marble glow like the moon. They had little time to stop and stare, however, for when they walked in, people had immediately started popping their heads out of doors and descending the wide, sweeping staircase to meet them. There were a few people Harry knew--McGonagall, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and of course, Hagrid, who beamed and waved at them, people being knocked out of his way as he waded through the hundreds of Fleur's relatives filling the hallway.

"All righ', Harry?" he said, patting genially him on the back with such force Harry staggered into Hermione, who caught him. After that Harry was kept busy for a while as he met Tonks' parents, who were still young and just as good-natured and cheerful as their daughter. In fact, Tonks' relations seemed to be everywhere--she had as large a family as Fleur, and they all wanted to shake Harry's hand. He was reminded irresistibly of the first time he had encountered other wizards, in the Leaky Cauldron inn six years ago--everyone in the pub had wanted to meet him then, too.

He spent a good half an hour being introduced to all of Fleur's many relatives, and met her father, Christophe, a tall man with--to Harry's surprise, for he had almost become accustomed to all the blond hair--dark brown curls and a long, droopy moustache.

"Ah, Harry Potter. It is a pleasure to meet you at last." Christophe pronounced his words correctly, though very slowly and with great care, as he nodded at Harry in greeting. His face looked as though it rarely smiled, though it wasn't grim--it was as though he just took everything extremely seriously. Harry, nodded back awkwardly, finding it difficult to look at Christophe directly. The man had very strange, vague eyes, which made Harry feel as though he wasn't really being looked at at all. He was quite relieved when Christophe wandered off to introduce himself to Ron and Hermione, and Harry was just shaking hands with yet another woman with long blonde hair--Fleur's cousin, or something--when he saw another familiar face emerge from the end of the hallway.
"Hi, Charlie! How are you?"

"Harry! Yeah, I'm great thanks--Bill asked me to be best man, you know," said Charlie, making his way over. "Harry, meet Flavia." A small woman stepped out from behind Charlie, shaking back her long dark locks over her shoulders as she moved forwards. She was little but vivacious, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks rosy as she parted smiling lips to say hello. She spoke such perfect English that Harry would never have guessed she was Romanian if he hadn't already been told.

"Charlie has told me much about you," Flavia smiled. "I have heard of all your brave deeds at school--you had a very exciting life at Hogwarts, eh?"
"Yeah, we did," said Harry, smiling back.

Flavia seemed easygoing and likeable--Ginny gave Harry a look which he knew meant something along the lines of, 'see--compare Fleur to her!" Well, thought Harry, they both seemed good women--he knew that Fleur was really quite warm sometimes, underneath her aloof exterior.

"Where are Bill and Fleur? And Tonks and Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked Charlie.
"Upstairs, getting ready," he answered. "Flavia was giving Tonks and Fleur a hand with their dresses. I don't think they're going to come down until the ceremony begins--that's the tradition, anyway."

A while later all the hundreds of guests were seated outside in the front garden supplied with tall glasses of iced pumpkin-juice, and odd, light French wafers that melted as soon as Harry bit into them. Mrs Weasley had wanted to help in the kitchen, but was assured by the entire Delacour family that there were more than enough house elves to do the jobs required.

"When is the actual wedding going to happen?" Harry muttered to Hermione after what felt like several hours of polite conversation between the adults, mostly comprising embarrassing stories about Bill and Fleur when they were children.

"This afternoon, I think," Hermione whispered back. "Fleur has to do all her make-up and fix her hair," she added, rolling her eyes, and Harry chuckled, glad that Ginny was not the sort to fuss with dresses and fancy hairdos.

"...and zen, if you will believe it, my Fleur stole Christophe's wand and tried to hex poor baby Gabby...but she was 'olding ze wand ze wrong way round and ze next thing we knew, Fleur had grown all zese long tentacles from her ears!"

The stories were mildly entertaining at first but after hearing several dozen of them, Harry found himself bored out of his mind and longing to get out of the garden chair and start doing something--he felt he was just wasting his time here. Beside him he saw Ron sink into his chair, eyes half closed. At last, after what seemed an age, Marguerite stood up, patting her dress carefully.

"My Fleur should be ready now--and of course, dear Bill and Remus and Nymphadora. Ze wedding should start very soon--if you would all like to make your way to ze back of ze house? Christophe, you show zem ze way, I will go and check on my daughter..." and she glided back inside as they rose. Christophe led the way around the huge house (it took a very long time) and when they rounded the last corner, Harry was momentarily lost for words. He didn't know what he had been expecting--white flowers maybe, and a priest, but certainly not this. The ground seemed to sparkle for miles, and looking down Harry realised the grass had been enchanted so that it glittered and shone. It was also covered in trails of bright streamers which were drifting down from the sky. Harry absentmindedly picked a pretty yellow one out of Ginny's hair as he gazed around, stunned.

"Wow," he said stupidly to Ron, finding his voice as he watched the biggest fountain he had ever seen spouting hundreds of jets of water in all colours of the rainbow into a basin the size of a dining-room. "What is that?"

"Oh, you've never been to a wizarding wedding before, have you?" said Ron. "I love these things," he added, motioning at the fountain. "It shoots out all different drinks, see--people can hire them for parties and stuff.�

Harry moved closer to the fountain, noticing all the crystal glasses balanced on the rim of the basin. He followed Ron's example and stuck one under a random jet of turquoise liquid--it tasted a bit like minty bubblegum. He and Ron had fun for a while trying out several different spouts, before turning their attention to the many other things surrounding them. Colourful flowers were spilling out from baskets suspended magically from thin air: their long swaying leaves trailed down and got tangled in the hair of anyone who walked under them.

"I'd better go to the doors," said Ginny to Harry. "I have to walk behind Bill and the rest of them when they come out, I'll see you later." Harry nodded and she walked away, her silky gold dress shining as it caught the sunlight.

People had begun milling around, talking and laughing, and loud, cheerful music had sprung up from nowhere--looking around Harry found its source--a large group of men and women with the Delacour trademark silver-blonde hair playing a variety of strange instruments Harry had never seen before. Flavia was standing by one of them, taking a three-horned, curly pipe from the hands of one of the players and examining it with great interest. But at that moment, the player hurriedly snatched it back and joined in with the sudden crescendo, a triumphant ta-ta-ta-TA! as the back doors were thrown open and four people stood framed in the doorway, Remus Lupin and Tonks, Bill and Fleur, the afternoon sun flooding their faces with light. The wedding ceremony had begun.

Mr and Mrs Weasley and Fleur's parents were standing either side of them, on the top of the flight of steps which led down to the garden, and now they stood back to let the two couples pass, Bill and Fleur leading the way, a beautiful tiara made of twisted gold crowning Fleur's mane of silvery hair. Harry chuckled as he saw Tonks, her hair still bright pink and wearing beautiful rosy dressrobes of some soft, clinging material to match, stumble down one step and Lupin stoop almost imperceptibly to steady her. He looked quite practised at it, thought Harry, grinning. Lupin was going to have a hard time coping with Tonks' clumsiness. But right now Lupin looked aglow with happiness, the lines of age almost wiped away as his face broke into a smile of pure joy, his eyes sparkling as he laughed. At that moment he looked ten years younger, and Harry felt a sudden affectionate surge of gladness that Lupin had at last found love, after so much sorrow and hardship. Harry saw Ginny and Gabby, their matching gold dresses rippling like water in the slight breeze, join the small procession and felt his heart give an odd leap in his chest. Ginny may have hated her dress but Harry thought she looked beautiful, with several delicate yellow flowers woven into her hair, which was shining deep auburn in the glory of the sun.

Everyone had shuffled around, to clear a pathway that had been formed along the garden and along this path the two couples sailed hand-in-hand, making their way to a large circle etched onto the shimmering grass. Harry looked at it curiously. It seemed a perfectly ordinary circle, made of flattened grass, but when the brides and grooms stepped onto it, white fire suddenly streamed from the edges, forming a blazing rope which danced around them, burning fiercely even in the bright daylight. The music spiralled to what was almost a song, a declaration of joy and unity and love.
At that moment Mrs Weasley and Marguerite Delacour spoke together, in rather trembly voices which had been magically amplified so they sounded above the music, "Bill, Fleur, raise your wands." Fleur tossed back her long hair and held up her arm strongly and proudly. Bill's scarred face cracked into a loving smile as he looked at Fleur and lifted his wand too.

"Remus, Tonks, raise your wands," said Mr Weasley and Christophe, and the couple did so easily and smoothly, gazing into each other's eyes.

Then all the parents spoke together, quietly. "Do you vow to take each other as husband and wife?"

As one, four voices replied, "We vow."

And with one movement Lupin and Tonks, Bill and Fleur, brought their wands forward to touch their partners’, and as the tips met, white light instantly exploded from all the wands, shattering the air around them and encasing each couple in a shining orb. Wands still raised and joined, thin threads of light binding the wands together in twisting coils, the newly-weds moved towards each other and kissed. Mrs Weasley was crying openly onto Marguerite's shoulder, and beside Harry, happy tears were also running down Hermione's cheeks. Harry was overwhelmed with the flood of feelings which surged through him--joy, and goodwill, and true gladness.

Then BANG! Harry jumped, startled, as without warning the globes burst and for a second the brides and grooms seemed to be clothed in robes of white fire, which swirled about them like water. These shimmered and faded, and the next moment bright rings were sparkling on all their fingers. The couples broke away from the kisses and lowered their wands. The next few minutes were a confused rush of embraces and tears and laughter, and Harry moved forward in his turn to congratulate the two new wives and husbands, all of whom seemed aflame with pure happiness.

"Soon I'll be an old married wife, eh, Harry?" grinned Tonks, winking at Harry as she nestled into Lupin's shoulder, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks lit with the flush of love. Lupin ruffled her pink hair affectionately.

"I doubt you'll ever grow old, Tonks," Harry returned, and they all joined in the good-natured teasing which followed.

"So what'cha going to call yourself now then, Tonks?" said Ron interestedly. "Since your name should be Nymphadora Lupin now." Tonks' face screwed up thoughtfully as she contemplated her new name.

"I like the Lupin bit," she said, sliding her arm around Lupin's waist and smiling up at him. "But I don't think I should use it, not till they get rid of that stupid law anyway, since the Ministry's still after you, Remus. Or they might just work out I know where you are!"

"You think?" said Lupin, in mock seriousness, and they all chuckled.
"How about you just add Lupin to the end of your name, like Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin?" said Hermione practically. "Then you'd still have Tonks in your name."

"Well, I might just make it Nymphadora Lupin and everyone can still call me Tonks," said Tonks, shrugging. "It's easier. And I can just not tell anyone at the Ministry about the change. No one needs to know. Not yet, anyway."

They were interrupted by a loud chiming, and looked around to see Charlie standing on the fountain's edge, tapping one of the crystal glasses with his wand to get everyone's attention.

"Afternoon, everybody!" Charlie called out cheerfully. "Well--that's it! The marriage is over, and we have four new husbands and wives running around. Wish them all the greatest happiness, everyone, and let us hope with all our hearts that their love will see them through and beyond this war!" These potentially sobering words were spoken with such ringing conviction and good faith that the huge garden broke out in a storm of clapping and cheers.

"So, my eldest brother Bill is now a married man!" Charlie continued, grinning, raising his voice above the noise. "And I remember when he was a pesky seven year old reading Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle comics and always trying to hide my toy broomstick. Ah, I forgive you for that and, well, Bill my brother, Fleur my new sister, have a great life!" He lifted his wand to his forehead in a mock salute and deftly threw two crystal glasses of some sparkling blue drink to the newly-weds, who caught them easily, laughing as the bright liquid splashed over their hands.

"And Remus, Tonks, I can't say how glad I am to finally see you two together," said Charlie, looking over to them with a wide smile.

"Neither can I," joked Tonks as she prodded Lupin playfully. "I thought he'd never ask!" A ripple of laughter swept the grounds as Lupin smiled sheepishly.

"Yes, we're all still stunned that you did so at last, Remus," Charlie said, his eyes twinkling. "Though you might regret it when you find you're spending your days repairing everything Tonks breaks--" he ducked, laughing, as Tonks sent a stream of purple sparks at his face with her wand.

"All right, all right, I’ll stop--best wishes, both of you, for all of your lives!" And he stuck a glass under a shining spout of crimson wine, threw back his head and drank to them.
As though this was a signal, the clapping burst out again and there was a rush as everyone moved forwards to grab drinks. Harry caught a glimpse of Lupin kissing Tonks again, all his reserve thrown aside, when all at once a bright jet of clear water shot from the very top of the fountain, and suddenly a huge rainbow was shimmering in the air as the sun blazed through the spray. Harry felt the cool droplets lightly sprinkle his face as he, Ron, and Hermione filled their glasses and toasted the newly-weds, wishing them all the happiness in the world.

The wedding celebrations lasted through night and well into the next morning. As evening drew near and the guests started to shiver in the fast-cooling night air, Madame Delacour invited them all inside the mansion, which was so huge that even containing over a hundred guests it hardly felt crowded at all. Snacks and drinks were set on small tables in all the rooms, replenished regularly by beaming, bowing House Elves.

The crisp French wine was so good that after a couple of glasses Harry even managed to forget how stupid he felt in his floaty blue dressrobes as he moved among the guests, chatting and laughing with them all. He had been determined to enjoy this wedding to the full, as he knew it would probably be the last fun event in his life for a while. As the party drew to a close, Harry was sitting in a comfortable, high-backed armchair half-listening sleepily to Tonks and Lupin’s conversation from where they sat close by. Ron was sprawled inelegantly across a chaise-longue next to them, throwing honey-coated peanuts into the air and catching them lazily in his mouth.

“But do you really have to, Remus? I just don’t want you to get hurt, or killed--and this is avoidable.� Harry, who had been sinking drowsily into his chair for the last half-hour now looked over curiously at Lupin and Tonks, who appeared worryingly grave for their first wedding night together.

“Tonks, I assure you I am not at all eager to go back. But two days are all I ask. If Sullius isn’t persuaded by then, I’ll leave it.� At that moment, Lupin glanced over at Harry, and smiled when he noticed Harry’s eyes were open.

“Go back? To the werewolves?� asked Harry, a cold feeling of dread creeping slowly through his wine-induced relaxed mood. He suddenly felt fully awake. Ron, on the other hand, appeared blissfully unaware of the conversation as he lay with eyes half-closed, crunching yet another peanut.

“Yes,� said Lupin. “Now that Tonks and I are married, of course, I am not going to stay with them any more. My efforts are proving almost futile anyway--but I have all but convinced one of them to leave Fenrir’s group, I am certain that a little more persuasion would bring him over to our side. Surely it would be a pity to abandon him now? Dumbledore asked me to do my best, and I can’t just give this up. I owe it to Dumbledore,� he finished, looking at Tonks soberly.

Harry understood Lupin’s feelings perfectly, if reluctantly, and it seemed Tonks did too, for although the characteristic sparkle in her black eyes had died and her heart-shaped face was rather pale, she squeezed Lupin's hand in agreement. “Well, if you must,� she said quietly. “Just--just be careful, Remus!� She looked as though she wanted to say more, but not in front of Harry, who felt distinctly awkward and cast around quickly for an excuse to leave. But just then, there was a loud choking, spluttering sound beside them and the little group all turned to find Ron going purple in the face and energetically thumping his own throat with his palm. Harry leapt up in alarm, but Lupin just pointed his wand quickly and wordlessly at Ron’s throat, and Ron heaved in a lungful of air, his airway unblocked.

“Sorry!� he gasped. “Breathed in a peanut…� and he grabbed a glass of water and gulped some down. Harry, Lupin and Tonks all chuckled.

“Teach you not to do this, then,� said Lupin, expertly flicking seven peanuts into his mouth in quick succession.

“Well, maybe we should make a move,� said Tonks, a shadow of the unhappiness returning to her face, though she made an obvious effort to hide it.

“All righ’, all o’ yeh?� Hagrid appeared behind, red in the face from too much wine and a happy smile plastered across face. “Molly reckons we oughter be makin’ our way back, lotta the guests got work tomorrer--today, rather.�

“Of course,� said Lupin, standing and helping Tonks up. “I have work myself to do,� he added, and Harry saw Tonks pause for only the slightest moment, meeting Lupin’s eyes before giving a tiny, reluctant nod of her head.

“What, work righ’ after yer wedding day? Keen, aren’t yeh?� chuckled Hagrid, completely oblivious to the silent communication going on between the two of them, and he left them to look for the rest of their company.

“Just two days, Tonks,� murmured Lupin, laying his hand on her arm.

Tonks sighed, then forced a smile. “I know,� she said quietly. “I'm just being horribly selfish. And if you can persuade this Sullius person to leave Voldemort, I’ll be a very proud--wife.� The last word left her mouth awkwardly and Tonks looked as though she was tasting the sound of it.

“I’m a wife,� she said, grinning. Harry, Ron and Lupin all laughed. “You’ll get used to it,� said Lupin, eyes twinkling. “Though I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to you being my wife.� He seemed to have forgotten Harry and Ron’s presence as he smiled at Tonks, and she beamed back.

Mr and Mrs Weasley came up to them at this point and Harry and Ron exchanged relieved looks--Harry certainly didn’t want to be caught in the middle of any slushy sentimental scenes between the two newly-weds.

“All ready to go?� said Mrs Weasley. Her magically curled hair was coming down from its neat knot and she had a hairpin stuck in her collar, but she looked overflowing with happiness and pride. “Charlie and Flavia are coming to stay at Grimmauld for a while,� she said in a low voice. “And where are Fred and George?�

“Over there,� said Ron, pointing to the far side of the huge dining-room. The twins were bent over a table, around which a small group of blonde-haired girls were clustered. Mrs Weasley bustled over, and Harry heard the girls tinkling laughs as Fred and George straightened up, Fred’s face bright violet, George’s acid-green. As Harry watched, grinning, Fred removed a small pill-like object from his left ear--his face slowly returned to normal--and deposited it into George’s. Ron snorted with laughter next to Harry, and the girls broke into applause--now George’s face was half-green, half-purple, the two colours running down his neck and disappearing into his robes. The twins bowed low and Fred began tossing the small pills to the girls, who all started pushing them eagerly into their ears, shrieking with laughter and pointing at each others faces as they turned turquoise, orange, crimson, and a multitude of other colours.

Harry watched as Mrs Weasley reached the group, expecting her to start shouting at her sons, but she just smiled good-naturedly and chivvied Fred and George away. The girls waved after them, looking like a bunch of Bertie Botts Every-Flavour Beans on legs.

“Hope they take them out soon,� muttered Fred to Harry when he reached him. “We didn’t tell them, the colour tends to stick for ages if they leave it in too long.�

“Why didn’t you tell them?� asked Harry suspiciously.

“Don’t speak French,� shrugged Fred, though his eyes held a spark of mischief.

Mrs Weasley now led Ginny and Hermione over, who were both yawning.

“Bill and Fleur are staying here for the night, then they’re going to Thailand for their honeymoon!� Mrs Weasley told everyone, her cheeks glowing with happiness. “I’m going to find Charlie and Flavia then we’ll be off.�

“They’re outside,� said George. “Ahem--just taking a walk, of course,� he added innocently as Mrs Weasley looked suspiciously outside the patio doors at the dark garden, then hurried outside, shaking her head with a small smile on her face.

“Where are you going for your honeymoon?� said Hermione, turning to Tonks.

“Oh, we’ve decided not to go anywhere,� said Tonks casually. Hermione looked shocked, and Tonks quickly explained. “We both have too much to do for the Order, and besides, I need to carry on with work as normal, seeing as no-one there knows I’m married now.�

Hermione looked sympathetic but Tonks just shrugged, not seeming at all put out. “Oh, I don’t mind,� she said. “As long as I’m with Remus, I’m happy!�

Lupin looked rather flattered.

Mrs Weasley returned at that point, a sheepish-looking Charlie following her, his bright-red hair oddly messy. Flavia, behind him, was also rather pink in the face but her lips kept curving into a smile and her eyes were dancing with suppressed mirth.

Hagrid stumped over to say goodbye and Harry, Ron and Hermione all hugged him--he was staying in France for while so he could visit Madame Maxime, the headmistress of the French school of magic, Beauxbatons. Then came the long task of saying goodbye to every one of Fleur’s relatives, in particular Christophe, Marguerite and Gabrielle. Gabrielle offered her hand graciously to Harry, her face composed and looking very beautiful though her fingers trembled in Harry’s awkward grasp.

“I ‘ope I will see you anuzzer time, ‘Arry,� she said, curtseying elegantly, her long silver hair sweeping nearly to the floor as she inclined her head. Harry nodded back, feeling stupid; he could see the amused look Hermione threw in his direction. But, luckily, most of the guests seemed to at last have finished wishing Bill, Fleur, Lupin and Tonks good luck and goodbye and with one last handshake and smile for a blonde-haired woman, Mr Weasley took hold of Ginny’s hand, preparing to Apparate with her. Harry’s head was starting to ache a little from the late night, the chatter, and the wine, and he was quite glad to leave the great marble mansion behind as he focussed his mind on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place and Disapparated.

---

As he appeared out of thin air in the dining room of Sirius’ old house, Harry found himself once more exhausted from the long journey, and barely registering the ‘goodnight’ from Mrs Weasley, he dragged himself upstairs and into bed, Ron slouching tiredly behind him. Harry still had a headache from the wine he had drunk and he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, forgetting even to take off his glasses. That night, Harry’s dreams were filled with confused images of rings shining on dozens of hands, fountains shooting multi-coloured drinks in every direction, and hundreds of blonde-haired Veela with green and purple faces flying Comet Two-Sixties…

---

Harry was suffocating--he was drowning--cold wetness had pervaded his dream and he choked, gasping, as his eyes snapped open and he found himself staring up at Ginny, freezing water trickling inside his pyjamas and down his spine like the path of an icy finger. Ginny was standing there clutching an empty bucket and was doubled up with laughter at the look on his face.

“W-what did you do that for?� spluttered Harry, still rigid with shock. From across the room Harry heard a splash and a startled yell, and looking over he saw Ron sat bolt upright in bed, red hair plastered to his forehead, and water running in rivulets down his face, upon which was stamped an expression of mixed confusion and horror. Hermione was stood by the bed, smiling mischievously, also clutching a large, empty bucket.

“We thought you needed a wake-up call,� explained Ginny, turning her bucket upside down and perching herself neatly upon it.

“What the--why did you--couldn’t you just have shaken us?� Ron said, his teeth chattering, and Harry wrung a thin stream of water from his sopping wet pyjama sleeve onto the floor.

“We tried,� said Hermione. “We shook you, pulled the covers off, yelled your names--you didn’t even twitch. You had far too much wine,� she added severely to Ron, who looked over at Harry and raised his eyebrows at him in mock disbelief. The effects of the shock starting to wear off, it was at this moment that Harry realised his head was pounding, and he groaned, slumping back onto his pillows and closing his eyes, ignoring the water which seeped from his hair into his ears. He was too wet already to care.

“Oh, no you don’t,� said Ginny firmly, grabbing his arm and yanking him off the bed with surprising strength. Harry fell onto the floor but he didn’t bother to get up.

“We didn’t go to all that effort to have you go back to sleep,� said Hermione. “Besides, you need to get up now, remember what day it is?�

“Er,� said Harry stupidly, to the floor. “Monday?�

“Yes, and it’s the first of August, silly,� said Ginny impatiently, and Harry opened one eyelid slowly so he could look at her, waiting for an explanation for why this should mean anything to him. Hermione and Ginny both rolled their eyes.

“We’re going to Azkaban with Scrimgeour today, remember?� said Hermione, looking as though she was curbing her impatience with difficulty.

Azkaban… Scrimgeour… the words crept slowly past the large, throbbing lump that was Harry’s headache and he remembered--of course, they had to see Mundungus today--and perhaps find out what had happened to the golden locket which had been in this house and was almost certainly a Horcrux. What was he doing, lying on the floor when there was such important work to be done?

Harry get up hastily, ignoring his pounding head as best he could, and reached for his wand, drying himself off with a quick Heating Charm before telling Hermione and Ginny to go away while he and Ron got dressed.

“Well, at least we won’t have to shower,� yawned Ron, following Harry’s example and drying the water in his hair and pyjama top, overdoing the Heating Charm slightly out of sleepiness. Harry grabbed Ron’s arm and diverted it as he saw smoke beginning to curl from Ron’s head. Ron inspected his singed hair in the dressing-table mirror, which hooted with laughter at the sight of him--irritably Ron told it to shut its face--then they dressed hurriedly and went downstairs to the kitchen.

---

“Eat that, quickly--we have to be there in ten minutes,� said Hermione, pointing to a stack of buttered toast on the table as Harry and Ron walked into the room. Mrs Weasley was standing at the sink, clearing away the dishes, and at Hermione’s words she glanced over at them.

“Be where in ten minutes?� she said casually, though her eyes were anxious.

“The Ministry of Magic,� Ginny replied as she bit into a slice of toast.

Mrs Weasley looked slightly surprised, almost relieved, but she appeared to bite back her questions and merely nodded, before turning back to the sink. Harry was grateful for her restraint.

“Bad news, Molly.� They all turned at the sound of Arthur Weasley’s voice, and the grim tidings the words foreboded. Mr Weasley had entered the kitchen looking very pale, clutching a rolled up copy of the Daily Prophet, and Mrs Weasley laid down a dish very abruptly at the sight of his face, as though her hands were suddenly weak.

“What’s happened, Arthur?� she said, eyes anxious and her voice slightly higher than usual. “Has someone we know--� she stopped, unable to speak her fears aloud.

“Frank and Alice’s son, Neville, is missing--and Augusta, his grandmother, has been killed…� said Mr Weasley tiredly, holding up the paper. Hermione gave a choked, horrified sob, and Harry’s insides seemed to freeze as he stared at the black and white photo of the Dark Mark glittering above the ruins of a house--Neville’s house.

Neville couldn’t be dead, thought Harry desperately--no, he’s only missing, he’ll be found! Hermione, Ron and Ginny all looked white and shocked, and for a while they just sat there, stricken, while Mr and Mrs Weasley discussed the news in low, sad voices. Harry suddenly felt a huge, unexpected upsurge of guilt. If Neville was dead, it was his, Harry’s fault, muttered a nasty little voice in his brain. You’re supposed to be the one getting rid of Voldemort, and instead you’re wasting time at weddings while your friends are being killed Harry shook his head silently to clear the unwelcome voice from his mind, his thoughts in a sickened, appalled turmoil of disbelief. He felt sudden hot tears burning behind his eyes.

At that moment Charlie and Flavia strolled into the kitchen looking bright and cheerful, and Harry’s headache worsened as he looked at them through a sort of mist. How could they look so happy? But they didn’t know what was plastered all over the front of the newspaper--the news that Neville Longbottom, Harry’s fellow Gyrffindor and classmate at Hogwarts for six years, was missing…

“We--we’d better get going,� murmured Hermione, not looking at anyone as she gathered up the plates, suppressed tears in her eyes. Harry rose to his feet in a sort of daze. But some part of him knew he had to concentrate on the work of today--finding the locket--and so he did his best to push the thought of Neville to the back of his mind, hating himself as he did so. And the four of them left the room and went into the hall to Disapparate. Harry could distinctly feel Mrs Weasley’s gaze on his back as it followed them through the door and out of the kitchen.

---

Several seconds later, the squeezing sensation of Apparition over, Harry found himself standing in the beautiful, huge Entrance Chamber of the Ministry of Magic, the famous Fountain of Magical Brethren standing, whole again, in the centre. At the end of Harry’s fifth year, during a fight with Death Eaters in the Ministry, this fountain had been smashed by a curse from Voldemort but had now been expertly repaired. The four of them stood in the Chamber in a sad, silent group. It was a mark of how distressed she was by the news of Neville’s disappearance that Hermione didn’t even comment on the little golden statue of the house elf gazing up humbly at the handsome wizard in the middle of the fountain.

“Names and business please, and I’ll need to weigh your wands.� A bored voice spoke behind them and they all turned. It was the same secretary that Harry had seen here last time, and he had just silently handed over his wand when he heard footsteps behind him and looked over his shoulder to see the Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, loping towards them. The thin, bespectacled figure of Percy Weasley, Scrimgeour’s assistant, followed close behind.

“Harry!� said Scrimgeour genially. “No need, Eric, they’re with me,� he added, and the wizard nodded, thrusting Harry’s wand back at him.

“Morning, Minister,� said Harry, trying to keep the hostility he felt for the Minister out of his voice, seeing as without Scrimgeour, they had no way of getting into Azkaban. Harry noticed that Percy was avoiding Ron and Ginny’s eyes--they were both scowling at him. But Percy lacked his usual stiffness towards them; today he seemed strangely disturbed and unhappy. Had he, too, heard the news about Neville?

Harry introduced Scrimgeour to Ron, Hermione and Ginny, for though the Minister had seen them all before at the Burrow a couple of years ago, he didn’t appear to remember them. Scrimgeour glanced at Ron and Ginny and spoke to Percy over his shoulder. “These’ll be your brother and sister, eh, Weasley?�

Percy muttered an embarrassed, “Yes, sir,� a deep flush creeping up his neck.

“Well, we’d better be going, I informed the few guards we have left that we’d be there around 11.15,� said Scrimgeour, checking his watch. “Weasley, I’ve given you your instructions for this morning, yes?� Oddly, Scrimgeour sounded rather apologetic, and Percy nodded, walking off looking for some reason extremely uncomfortable. While Scrimgeour had been talking, Percy’s neck had been getting steadily redder and redder and Ginny and Ron had been watching their brother, identical suspicious expressions on their faces.

“This way,� said Scrimgeour, motioning them to follow him, and they set off across the huge hall, which was bustling with witches and wizards, all rather pale and tense, some nodding at each other in greeting but not stopping to talk.

“So, Harry, what brings you to Azkaban today?� his voice was light and casual, but Harry noticed the Minister’s fingers tighten around his cane. “Is Fletcher a friend of yours? Family? Or perhaps--something else?� Harry could tell Scrimgeour had wanted to ask this ever since he had seen their letter requesting the visit to Mundungus.

“It’s family business,� said Hermione, her voice admirably calm. She seemed to have controlled her tears. Scrimgeour spared her a short glance, and she met his gaze steadily.

“It is, is it?� said Scrimgeour, disbelievingly.

“Yes, it is,� said Hermione, throwing a warning glance at rest of them to stop them from saying anything. “I’m a Muggleborn, you see, so I thought I had no wizarding relatives, but I’ve been tracing back the family line and it turns out I’m distantly related to the Fletchers. Mundungus’ family is descended from my great-grandmother’s brother, and Mundungus is the last of that line. I wanted to see the only wizarding relative I have.�

Scrimgeour looked suddenly doubtful, as though Hermione’s confident tone and the words that tripped so easily from her tongue had convinced him that this really was the reason for their coming, and not some secret plot. But the Minister soon recovered his poise, glancing shrewdly from Harry to Hermione, who kept on walking coolly in the direction they were taking, towards a large black door on the far side of the Hall. Their little party, especially Harry, was getting a lot of curious glance from witches and wizards passing them on the way to their various workstations.

“This is the only way you can get into Azkaban,� said Scrimgeour, as they reached the door. The Minister inserted a thin, sharp key into the lock and the door swung open noiselessly, which seemed to Harry peculiarly ominous.

To Harry’s surprise, the door did not open into a room, but instead enclosed a built-in, grim black fireplace, the embers in the grate glowing a sinister green.

“No need to tell the Floo where you want to go--it’s only connected to Azkaban. Obviously, the prison is heavily laced with Anti-Apparition spells. You first, Harry?�

Harry looked slightly apprehensively at the fireplace, dreading where it was going to take him, but he nodded and climbed into the grate. Green flames instantly whooshed up his legs, and he had a brief glimpse of the rest of the company shielding their faces, which were glowing green from the sudden light emanating from the fireplace, before he span away in a rush and whirl of emerald fire. He barely had time to steady himself or tuck his elbows in before he started spinning and he took several nasty knocks before the journey stopped abruptly, and he staggered out right into a hard stone wall.

Rubbing his bruised elbow and taking in his surroundings, Harry found himself in a tiny room and hastily flattened himself against the wall as the flames in the fireplace leapt to full height and glowed luminous green again. The spinning form of Hermione appeared in the grate, followed by Ginny, Ron, and finally Scrimgeour. Harry found himself crushed and almost unable to breathe as the Minister awkwardly reached over to fit the key into the lock and when the lock glowed white and clicked they all spilled out of the room into the darkness beyond, gasping for air.

Harry soon forgot the bruises from the Floo ride as a sudden chill seeped into his bones. At first he thought a Dementor was near but then realised the cold was simply the usual grim dankness of the place. A steady dripping sound could be heard from somewhere in the darkness and the smell of sea-salt hung heavily in the air. Harry remembered that the prison was based in the middle of the ocean--but no murmur of waves reached them from outside. The only sounds were the slow drip…drip…drip of water, a faint, guttural coughing, and echoing from several directions, an unidentifiable scraping, clinking noise. The faint green light from the fireplace behind them--which had returned to the low glowing embers--hardly illuminated the area around it at all. It felt as though the light was sucked up unnaturally quickly by the darkness. Harry shivered with anger and pity as he thought of Sirius, trapped in this lightless, lifeless place for twelve years of his life.

Scrimgeour cleared his throat and Harry realised they had just all been standing in silence for ages, taking it in.

“Fletcher is in the right wing--cell one hundred and thirty-five. Come, and be as quiet as you can--now that we have lost all but a couple of guards, the prisoners are rather more--aware. It would probably not be a good idea if they knew you were here.�

Harry nodded, and started to walk forward, more than anxious to get this over with so they could leave. This place, stinking of fear and cold and loneliness, gave him the creeps. The few torches hung in brackets on the walls did little to light the way, their flames low and flickering, and as Harry moved and felt his feet slide on the floor, he realised the floor was wet and slippery with slime.

Scrimgeour led the way along a narrow passage, the walls gleaming with water that oozed through the cold stone. He felt Ginny slip next to him in the darkness, and she groped for his arm and gripped it tightly. Harry was focussing on just trying to keep his feet and guide Ginny when he thought he heard an odd scuffling noise back in the direction they had come. A rat? Harry thought, turning to look, but all he could see was the distant bright green glow of the Floo flames, which dimmed as he watched, casting weird shadows. He felt the pressure of Scrimgeour’s hand pushing him gently forward just as a tall cloaked shadow, silhouetted black against the dull green light, was framed momentarily in the doorway of the Floo room. Harry hastily turned his head away, not wanting to attract the attention of the Dementor, and they walked on.

They passed cell after cell, each as dank and grim as the next. Most of the occupants lay huddled in a corner or draped limply over the few boards which served as beds. Once or twice Harry saw the gleam of eyes and turned his face away, keeping it hidden--not that he’d be recognised in this darkness, anyway. Every now and then a prisoner would move an arm or a leg and there would be a drag of chains--this was the scraping, clinking noise that could be heard.

“We have to keep them chained now we have so few guards,� murmured Scrimgeour as he saw Harry stop and gaze in repulsion at the thick manacles binding the wrists of a sleeping man in the cell nearest to them. Harry did not know who the man was or what he had done but he still felt pity at the thought of him bound with heavy chains, day and night, for perhaps years to come. Harry had been close enough to see the raw redness of the man’s skin, where the chains had chafed his wrists, lit by the weak flame of a lonely torch. Scrimgeour moved on and Harry stopped staring at the man and moved on. He thought he could hear quiet movements not too far behind him, and not eager to come any closer to a Dementor than he had to, he quickened his pace.

“Here,� said Scrimgeour at last, coming to a halt nearly at the end of the corridor. “Cell one hundred and thirty five.� He inserted a key into the lock and turned it. It glowed white briefly then Scrimgeour took hold of the bars and pulled. The heavy grille slid open surprisingly silently--Harry had been expecting a screech of metal. They peered inside the dark cell. Mundungus lay curled up on the floor in a heap of dirty grey prison-robes. A faint snoring noise was coming from the heap, and Scrimgeour motioned for Harry not to wake Mundungus yet.

“I won’t come in,� Scrimgeour said in a low voice. “I expect you’ll want some privacy, my girl, to catch up with your, ah, family.� Only the faintest hint of disbelief showed in his voice. “I’ll be back at the fireplace--you can see it from here, so you’ll find your way back all right?� They all murmured a ‘yes’ and Scrimgeour continued. “Very well, when you’ve finished, lock the door--don’t let Fletcher see you’ve got the key or he’ll steal it--and come back to the fireplace straightaway. Is half an hour enough?�

“Half an hour is fine,� said Hermione, sliding the keys into her pocket as they trooped into the cell. “Thank you, Minister, I really appreciate being able to meet the wizarding side of my family.�

Scrimgeour nodded to her--Harry couldn’t see his expression in the poor light--and he turned and left, sliding the grille shut behind them. All four of them did not move from the bars until they saw his distant, limping black shadow reach the fireplace and stand there, waiting.

“I’m surprised,� commented Hermione. “I thought he would have tried to listen in.�

“Maybe he really believed all that guff about Dung being your long-lost great cousin or whatever it was,� said Ron, turning away from the bars. Privately Harry didn’t believe that for one minute--he was still highly suspicious of the Minister--after all, why take the trouble of escorting them personally to Azkaban if not to find out what they were up to? But Harry, too, moved away from the bars and watched as Ron approached the snoring pile of rags on the floor.

“Dung!� Ron said in a loud whisper. “Mundungus!�

Hermione nudged the heap of rags gingerly with her foot, and it moved.

“W-Wazzermadder?� Mundungus mumbled, opening one bleary, bloodshot eye, then saw Hermione and jumped in shock.

“’Ermione? That you? Blimey! An ‘Arry!�

“Shh!� hushed Hermione quickly, but it was too late; at the sound of Harry’s name there had been a definite clink of chains from the adjoining cell.

“Whatcher all ‘ere for?� said Mundungus, looking both amazed and disbelieving, and pushing himself into a sitting position with manacled hands. Harry noticed a long, heavy chain running from a bolt in the wall to one of Mundungus’ filthy ankles, and his anger with the thief for stealing the locket Horcrux abated slightly.

“You come to ‘elp me out of this stinkin’ place, yeah?� said Mundungus. Even in the dark Harry could see Mundungus’ hopeful look and he felt bad at having to crush his hopes.

“Sorry, Dung,� Harry said quietly. Mundungus’ face fell and he slumped against the damp wall, scraping the grey dirt off one foot with one long, broken fingernail. “Why, then? Whatcher want?� he said, his voice a pitiful whine. “If I ‘elp you, you’ll gemme out, won’tcha? You’ll ‘elp old Dung?�

“We can’t, Mundungus,� said Hermione helplessly, looking at Harry for support. But it was Ginny who came to the rescue.

“You’ve only got one more month in here anyway, Dung, you got six months, right? And that was in March,� she said reasonably. “Seeing as you didn’t actually manage to steal anything. It was more the pretending to be an Inferius that get you here.� Inferi were dead bodies, bewitched to act like puppets to a wizard’s bidding, and Mundungus had been thrown in jail after trying to scare the owner of the house he had been attempting to burgle by impersonating one.

“One month in ‘ere’s like ten years outside,� whined Mundungus. “You don’t know what it’s like...�

“Talking of stealing,� interrupted Harry, who was tired with Mundungus’ acting and impatient to find out what had happened to the locket. “We need to know what you did with Sirius’ stuff.�

Mundungus narrowed his eyes. “Wot makes you fink--�

“Don’t bother, Dung,� said Ron impatiently. “We saw you with it, in Hogsmeade.� Mundungus said nothing, maintaining a mutinous silence. Finally Harry, in desperation, reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his moneybag. Mundungus sat up a little straighter and his eyes gleamed as the gold clinked.

“Ten Galleons if you tell me what you did with the locket,� said Harry urgently. Beside him, Ron shifted slightly.

“That fine old locket? Great ‘eavy gold fing?� Harry nodded yes, praying no one had heard, and his heart giving a leap--Mundungus had taken it!

“Ten Galleons ain’t very much, ‘Arry. Thought you’d ‘ave pity on a poor prisoner,� said Mundungus, deliberately clinking his chains. “If it were twenty, now--�

“Dammit, Dung, tell me and I’ll give you the whole bag!� said Harry angrily, his nerves already stretched to the limit today, after this morning’s news about Neville.

“Done,� said Mundungus, quicker than lightning. “Aberforf bought it orf me. Now, gimme the money.� Aberforth? Dumbledore’s brother had bought the locket? Harry’s breath caught in his chest with excitement--they were so near to finding it. If Aberforth had it… Harry pushed the bag towards Mundungus, barely noticing what he was doing. He met Ron’s gaze in the darkness and Harry felt the same hope he was feeling reflected in Ron’s eyes.

Harry remembered now that Mundungus had indeed been talking to Aberforth that day last year when Harry discovered the man had been stealing Sirius’ possessions. And to think, he had been so close to one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes, without knowing! Harry felt the pressure of Ginny’s hand on his arm, pulling him up--their half-hour was over--and he rose, mind spinning over this revelation.

Mundungus had poured the gold and silver in a heap on the floor and was counting it awkwardly with his bound hands. At the sound of them getting ready to leave, he looked up, letting some gold slip through his fingers like water. “Blimey, ‘Arry, when I get out’ve this place I’m gonna be loaded!�

“Yeah, well, we’d better be going,� said Ron, a trace of resentment in his words. Harry felt bad at having thrown away so much money in front of Ron, who didn’t have much, but his mind was more occupied with thoughts of the locket at that time. Mundungus was so absorbed with counting the money he barely noticed as Hermione locked him back in.

“Thanks, Dung,� said Harry through the bars. “See you when you get out…� He didn’t like to leave anyone in this hellhole but it wasn’t as though he had a choice in the matter.

Mundungus just grunted, and Harry turned away, thinking he spied yet another Dementor shrinking into the shadows near the cell, and frowned--for a place that was supposed to have very few guards left, there certainly seemed plenty near them.

They made their way quickly back to the fireplace, where Scrimgeour stood waiting patiently.

“Was Fletcher surprised to hear of his relationship to you?� Scrimgeour asked Hermione when they reached him.

“What? Oh--yes, very surprised. He couldn’t believe it at first,� said Hermione, covering up her confusion quickly, but Harry saw Scrimgeour give a small, satisfied nod, seemingly to himself, and Harry knew he hadn’t missed Hermione’s false start. But Harry was sure Scrimgeour had stayed by the fireplace all the time they had been talking to Mundungus, so he couldn’t see how the Minister could actually have heard what the conversation had been about. Just so long as he doesn’t give Mundungus Veritaserum or anything Harry thought slightly worriedly, glancing back down the narrow stone corridor in the direction of Mundungus’ cell. Harry thought he saw yet another black shadowed figure slipping towards them. Just how many Dementors were there in here? But before he could muse on this any longer, Harry felt Scrimgeour’s hand on his arm, turning him firmly away from the dark prison and steering him towards the fireplace. One by one they climbed into the grate, Scrimgeour in the lead, and Harry, glad to be finally going, didn’t look back as he left the cold, grim prison behind him and stepped into the warm, whirling green flames.

And when he stepped out at the other end, back into the Ministry of Magic, Harry got one of the biggest shocks of his life.

---

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“Neville!�

Behind him, Hermione’s shriek echoed through the Hall and Harry’s knees suddenly felt as though they had turned to water.

Neville Longbottom was standing silently in the Entrance Chamber of the Ministry, right outside the door Harry had just come through. A tall woman and a plump, bald man with a bushy brown beard stood beside him, and at hearing Neville’s name they looked up.

“Neville, what--we thought--� Harry began weakly, staring at Neville in shock and disbelief. How--how?

“Hi,� said Neville quietly. His eyes were blank and dull and he seemed smaller somehow, diminished. “They killed my gran, Harry.�

“Neville, I--I'm sorry about that… but how did you--?�

“Yes, we heard, in the Prophet--you were missing, Neville! We thought you were dead!� Tears were suddenly sparkling in Hermione’s eyes as she went over and embraced their friend.

Harry still couldn’t believe Neville was here, now, in the flesh. Scrimgeour was looking quizzically from Harry to Neville, and seemed about to speak when Ron and Ginny pushed through the door. They gasped in shock to see Neville standing before them, alive and uninjured apart from a large bruise over one cheek.

“Oh, I don’t believe it,� said Ginny breathlessly, while Ron simply gaped, speechless with amazement and relief.

“I take it you are Neville Longbottom, Frank and Alice’s son?� Scrimgeour asked Neville, one tawny eyebrow raised questioningly. Neville nodded.

“Good Aurors, those two. And Augusta was a fine old lady… pity, pity. So you are the boy reported missing this morning? How did you survive?�

“I think we all want to know that,� said Hermione faintly.

Neville just shook his head.

“I don’t know,� he said simply. “All I remember is the Death Eaters killing my gran….� He paused, breathing deeply. “And then I woke up on the ground. The investigators found me under a load of rubble later that morning. Our house is in ruins.�

The tall woman with him stepped forward at this point.

“Minister, we came to find you,� she said, her voice clipped and precise. “My name is Enid Longbottom, and this is my husband Algernon. We are Neville’s aunt and uncle.� The man with the bushy brown beard nodded affably at Scrimgeour, who just leant on his cane, watching them shrewdly.

“Neville is now homeless, Minister, and we need your advice. We would take him in but we have suspicions that You-Know-Who might be after him.� Scrimgeour raised his eyebrows and waited for her to continue.

“We need somewhere safe for him to live, somewhere protected by strong charms,� Enid finished, looking at Scrimgeour almost challengingly.

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, immediately flashed into Harry’s mind and he exchanged a quick glance with Hermione; he could see she had thought of exactly the same thing.

Scrimgeour appeared to be thinking hard.

“Why do you think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is after the boy?� he said finally, without looking at Neville who stood silently by, eyes cast downward.

“Why?� Enid cast her palms upward. “We just don’t see what the Death Eaters would have wanted with Augusta--harmless old lady, always kept herself to herself--but Neville is Frank and Alice’s son, and they were both Aurors. I don’t know, Minister, I just think Neville was more probably their target than Augusta,�

“And yet Augusta was killed and Neville is alive--and appears remarkably well considering he was their ‘target.’�

“He was very lucky,� boomed Algernon Longbottom, clapping his hand on his nephew’s shoulder.

Suddenly, to Harry’s puzzlement, Scrimgeour’s eyes widened and he gave a strange, forced laugh. “What am I doing, discussing this here, especially after Neville’s ordeal this morning! Let’s all sit down and talk about this.�

He started limping quickly across the Hall as he spoke, and the group followed him. Passing witches and wizards were staring at them, and there was a lot of pointing and whispering going on. Most stares seemed to be directed at Neville--it seemed his face had been recognised from the morning Prophet. Just then, Harry saw Percy Weasley hurrying along the room, coming from behind them, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder at the Minister as he passed. For some reason Scrimgeour glared at his assistant, and Percy’s neck went slightly pink as he walked off. Harry watched this little scenario curiously; what was going on?

Neville was trailing behind, and Hermione went to put her arm comfortingly round his shoulders. Harry had never seen Neville look so forlorn. He felt a rush of sympathy for his friend, who had already lost his parents to madness at a young age and was now going through such hell.

“You four can get home without any problems?� said Scrimgeour, looking at them over his shoulder.

“Wait, I’m not going home ‘till I find out what’s going to happen to Neville!� said Harry indignantly, stopping dead in the middle of the Hall. “We’re his friends!�

“I really don’t think it’s necess--�

“I can help,� Harry added firmly.

“Oh, you can, can you?� said Enid, looking at him directly. Her eyes gleamed oddly as she stared at him, and her eyebrows lifted just the tiniest bit when she saw his scar. “And how can you help--ah, Harry?�

“I mean, I know somewhere safe for him to stay.�

“Where?� said Enid and Scrimgeour together. Neville suddenly looked up, and Harry thought he saw a shadow of interest flicker behind his eyes.

“It’s--it’s the place Dumbledore told me to stay at when I'm not at school, and it’s protected by the Fidelius Charm. I’m not the Secret Keeper so can’t tell you where, sorry. Neville can stay there--I have to live there to be safe. You know Voldemort’s after me too, yeah?� Harry spoke slightly sarcastically to Scrimgeour, ignoring the flinch that shivered through half the group at the mention of Voldemort’s name.

“I had guessed as much,� said Scrimgeour dryly.

“And this place is very safe, very hidden?� added Enid, almost off-handedly.

“Yes, I told you, it’s got the Fidelius Charm on it,� said Harry impatiently.

Enid and Algernon looked at each other. Then--

“Well, that sounds good to me!� said Algernon, beaming at Harry, and Enid nodded. “Yes, that should be perfect. Thank you, Harry.�


“You’d better come with us now, Neville,� said Harry, and Neville nodded. He gave his aunt and uncle a quick, automatic hug before turning away and waiting for Harry to leave. Harry found Neville’s withdrawn manner vaguely disconcerting, and he hoped fervently that Neville would recover sooner rather than later from the shock of his grandmother’s death.

“Goodbye, Neville--stay safe,� said Enid, watching her nephew turn away.

“Bye, Auntie Enid. Bye, Uncle Algie,� said Neville dispassionately.

“See you again, Harry,� said Scrimgeour, tapping his cane on the ground.

“Yeah, whatever,� said Harry bluntly. And with that, he turned and left the building with Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville close behind. “Neville, have you passed your Apparition test?�

“No,� said Neville. “I splinched myself.�

“Oh, er--okay,� said Harry, wincing. Splinching, or the splitting of random body parts from the body, was a particularly nasty effect of badly-performed Apparition. “Well, never mind, I’ll take you. Hang on to my arm.�

And with Neville gripping his wrist, Harry turned on the spot, concentrating on his destination: Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry felt the familiar squeezing sensation and then a sudden, violent jerk that left his arm feeling numb. He staggered into the hall of Sirius’ old house and found Ron, Hermione and Ginny beside him, but there was no sign of Neville.

“What happened to Neville?� said Hermione, surprised.

“I dunno!� said Harry, horrified, wheeling around to look behind him. “He was holding on to me--then he let go, I suppose.�

Hermione suddenly clapped her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no! I forgot, he hasn’t been told by the Secret Keeper where Grimmauld Place is!�

“Oh, yeah,� said Ron, anxiously. “Where d’you reckon he is now?�

Harry went hastily to look out of the window, praying that Neville had only been forced to let go when they came close to the destination. And to his profound relief, he saw Neville lying on the ground, seemingly knocked unconscious by the sudden separation.

Hermione opened the door and rushed out to help him. As Harry watched her kneel down beside Neville’s prone figure, Ginny asked, “Who’s the Secret Keeper now Dumbledore’s gone?�

“McGonagall, probably,� said Ron. “We’re going to have to get her to tell Neville, somehow. Anyone know where she is?�

“What’s going on?� Mrs Weasley had appeared in the doorway.

“Mum, Neville’s alive and we’re bringing him back here but he can’t get in, who’s the Secret Keeper?� said Ron in one breath. Mrs Weasley looked bewildered and gasped in shock as she saw Neville lying on the ground.

“Oh, my goodness, the poor boy!�

“Is McGonagall the Secret Keeper?� said Ron impatiently.

“Oh--yes, yes, I’ll call her,� said Mrs Weasley, still looking wonderingly at Neville. She pulled out her wand, muttered ‘Expecto Patronum!’ and a streak of silver shot out of the tip and disappeared into an alleyway.

“She should be here soon; she’s in central London, I think.� At that moment Neville groaned and his eyes flickered open. He stared up at them all but didn’t speak. Harry was just wondering how to explain to Neville why he was lying on a cold stone pavement in front of a house he couldn’t see when there was a popping sound and Professor McGonagall appeared, looking white, shaken, and completely astounded.

“Mr Longbottom! How in the name of heaven did you survive? Well, never mind that now.� She lowered her voice. “The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix are here, at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.�

Neville stared beyond Harry at the house that had suddenly appeared, and he slowly got to his feet. Mrs Weasley chivvied him quickly inside after glancing round slightly nervously, checking for curious Muggles.

Neville was ordered straight into bed by Mrs Weasley and stayed there for the rest of the day. Harry was so relieved Neville was safe that he walked around the house that day in a sort of bubble of happiness. But he had learnt something: he was not going to hang around any longer while his friends were injured or killed--he was going to get out there and start finding those Horcruxes. Every day he delayed, Voldemort gained strength, gained followers, and destroyed more innocent lives.

But there was one thing he wanted to do first, and that was to visit his parents’ graves and the village where they had lived.

“When are you planning on going?� said Hermione when he mentioned this to her and Ron and Ginny. They were sitting in Harry’s bedroom talking in low voices so as not to disturb Neville, who was sleeping next door.

“As soon as Lupin gets back,� said Harry. “Which should be the day after tomorrow, if the whole ‘two days to persuade the werewolf’ thing works.�

“Why when Lupin gets back?� asked Ginny, frowning. “How can he help?�

“Well, he knew the house, and the village. He can guide us there,� said Harry. “And I think he’d like to go back.�

“How do you know he hasn’t already been back? What about your parents’ funeral? Surely he was there?� said Hermione sensibly.

“I dunno--but anyway, I’ll ask him. And in the meantime, maybe you could teach us some of those spells you’ve been learning from the Hogwarts books?�

Hermione beamed. “Oh, yes, I’ve found some really unusual stuff! Wait, I’ll find the books, there’s one really good one…�

She disappeared from the room and was back in less than a minute, her arms piled so high with dusty old books that only her forehead was visible over the top. She dumped them on Ron’s bed and started pushing them aside, searching for one in particular.

“This is it,� she murmured, carefully lifting a thin green book from the pile. Harry, Ron and Ginny sat down on the bed and peered over her shoulder at it. The peeling silver letters on the front read, ‘The Hidden Magicke’.

“Not very hidden if they stick it in a book and put it on display in a library,� commented Ron, earning himself a glare from Hermione as she placed the book on her lap. The old leather creaked as Hermione opened it, and the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck suddenly prickled. A strange tingling feeling of ancient magic emanated from the book’s yellow pages, and Harry sensed that the magic was not necessarily good.

“Right,� said Hermione briskly, flicking through the pages. “I’ve found some really different spells and curses in here. This Pyratus Curse could be useful, look--sends a wave of fire toward attackers. Might be good if we ever meet a load of Death Eaters--though it’s a really powerful spell so we might not actually be able to do it. And this Aveuglius Hex--ouch, it’ll blind the person you use it on. I think it’s only temporary, though,� she added as Harry raised his eyebrows.

“How about this one?� suggested Ron, indicating a line drawing in which a man lay on the floor with what appeared to be his insides spilling out.

“No thanks,� said Harry, turning the page hastily. “I need to get rid of Voldemort, not learn how to wrench people’s stomachs out of their bodies.�

“Well, this looks good,� said Ginny, her finger tracing the lines of the pages as she read the spell she had spotted. “Wow, I’m surprised this isn’t famous--see, it’s a charm that freezes whatever spell your opponent throws at you.�

“That could be worth learning,� said Hermione. “It might not work for the Unforgivables but for smaller curses, minor jinxes….�

“Yeah, that looks good,� Harry said approvingly. “Could come in really handy sometime. Inertus Incantatem… damn, it’s non-verbal… well, let’s try it.�

“I’ll hex you,� said Ginny, with an impish smile, pulling out her wand.

“Hang on,� said Harry hurriedly, getting up off the bed. “It’s non-verbal, I’m not very good at those!� He ran over the words in his head. Inertus Incantatem…Inertus Incantatem… Hermione ran out to put a Silencing Charm on Neville’s door, and when she came back in, closing the door with a snap, Harry steeled himself.

“Um, all right, you can try now,� he said apprehensively.


Ginny raised her wand before he could think. “Aurikulis!� she cried, and from the end of her wand exploded several huge, slimy greyish-yellow things that shot straight towards him, flapping dripping wings and baring small gooey fangs.

Harry was so revolted that he almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing. “Ginny!� he cried in revulsion. “That’s disgusting--I mean--� and just as the bat-shaped bogies reached him he thought quickly, Inertus Incantatem!

And the bogies stopped dead, flopping to the ground in a large, squelchy mass. Ginny looked slightly disappointed.

“That’s the first time my Bat-Bogey Hex hasn’t worked,� she said as she stepped delicately over the slimy heap on the floor and reached the bed.

“It’s great!� Hermione beamed. Wordlessly she Vanished the mess with a wave of her wand. “Now, if that works for darker spells, it’ll be really useful.�

They spent the next quarter of an hour practising the Inertia Charm. Harry was reminded strongly of Dumbledore’s Army, the defence club he had set up in his fifth year, as he hurled hex after hex at Hermione and she froze them easily.

“Hey, Harry,� she panted as she stopped a Slingshot Jinx in midair. “If we want really unusual spells, you should have a look through Snape’s old potions book, find some more he invented--�

Harry stared at her in disbelief. “I’m not touching that thing again!� he said vehemently. “Snape killed Dumbledore, remember?�

“But if it helps--� said Hermione reasonably, flinging a Jellylegs Jinx at Ginny, who froze it wordlessly and wandlessly.

“No,� said Harry flatly. “I’m not using any of Snape’s spells.�

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Harry--they’re just spells, and some of them are really good!�

“You weren’t saying that last year!�

“Last year you used Sectum Sempra on Malfoy, Harry, it nearly got you expelled--what was I supposed to do? Encourage you to try them on Crabbe and Goyle and everyone else who annoyed you?� She was looking impatient now. “Come on, Harry--what if one of them saved your life one day?�

“You can use them,� shrugged Harry, lowering his wand. “But I’m not using anything that Severus Snape invented, Hermione. Not unless it’s on him.� He raised his voice and shouted to Ron and Ginny before Hermione could protest. “I think we’ve got that one now, you two. Let’s try the Pyratus Charm.�

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Not inside the house, Harry, we’ll burn the place down. Let’s do this one instead…�

So they spent the rest of the day looking up new spells and trying them out. And as Harry practised hexing and blocking and all sorts of new things, he suddenly found he was feeling very happy. Now that he was actually doing something, learning things that could, perhaps, help him survive the last duel with Voldemort, he was glad. And if by the end of this week they had found Aberforth and got the locket… Harry tried not to feel too hopeful but he couldn’t help it. He was grinning broadly as he ducked and blocked spell after spell from Ron, and they only stopped the training session when Mrs Weasley poked her head round the door.

“Are you all right, dears? You’re making rather a lot of noise!� Her gaze travelled from Ginny, who was hastily putting out a small fire that was burning the ends of her hair, to Ron, who had thrown himself behind the dressing table to avoid a rain of icy shards that Hermione had sent flying at him, to Harry, who was laughing and shooting a thick chain from his wand around Hermione’s ankles, bringing her crashing to the floor.

“Harry, dear!� Mrs Weasley looked shocked.

“Oh--sorry, Mrs Weasley,� said Harry, helping Hermione up. “We’re just practising. It’s okay, really. Ginny’s healing us if we get hurt.� Mrs Weasley pursed her lips but seemed to decide not to pursue the matter, evidently resigned to the fact that they were not doing this for fun.

“Well, if you’re sure. Tea is on the table so you’d better come downstairs soon, anyway. Clear this mess up first,� she said, indicating the broken chairs and singed wood that were strewn over the floor, the result of that afternoon’s practice. The soft padding of her footsteps faded down the hall and then suddenly returned. Mrs Weasley popped her head back into the room.

“Oh, you might like to know that Remus is back earlier than he expected! And he’s brought a guest,� she added, smiling.

“Oh, good,� said Hermione. “He persuaded the other werewolf to leave?�

“Yes,� nodded Mrs Weasley. “His name’s Sullius, Sullius Rune--we’ve all met him before, actually.�

“We have?� said Harry and Ron together in surprise.

“Yes--you remember when Arthur was attacked by the snake? Sullius is the man who was bitten by the werewolf around the same time. he was in the same ward.�

Harry vaguely remembered seeing the man in St Mungo’s. The werewolf had had no visitors and Lupin had gone over to have a chat. Interested in meeting this Sullius, Harry performed the counter-curse that made the chains still tightly binding Hermione’s ankles disappear in a puff of brownish-grey smoke, and the four of them followed Mrs Weasley downstairs and into the kitchen.

---

When he entered, Harry’s eyes were immediately drawn to the stranger that sat at the kitchen table. Harry could not remember from St Mungo’s what Sullius had looked like, but he wasn't prepared to see such a grizzled, mournful-looking figure sitting before him. Sullius broke off the conversation he’d been having with Lupin and Tonks (who seemed to be happy and bubbly again) and glanced up at them as they entered the kitchen. His gaze remained on Harry rather longer than anyone else and he gave a friendly, if rather wary nod, standing up to shake their hands.

“Evening. The name’s Sullius--we’ve met before.� His voice was rough and gravelly.

“Erm--yeah, sort of,� said Harry, awkwardly, looking into Sullius’ deep-set eyes. Only two years as a werewolf seemed to have taken their toll on the man--his face was drawn and haggard, and a long scar ran from his left cheek across his mouth and down his chin. Sullius evidently saw Harry staring at it and turned away abruptly, back to Lupin.

“Remus is a good man,� Sullius said over his shoulder to them all. “Saved me from a nasty fate, he did. If it hadn’t been for him, I’d still be with Greyback and that lot.�

Lupin smiled. “I am glad you decided to come with me,� he said sincerely, as Harry and the rest of the sat down.

At that moment Mr Weasley entered the kitchen and held the door open for Neville who, despite his day in bed, had dark shadows under his eyes and was still quiet and lifeless. He silently took his place at the table next to Charlie and Flavia and started eating the steaming chicken and potatoes that a worried-looking Mrs Weasley handed him.

“Are you sure you’re well enough, dear?� Mrs Weasley said, watching Neville anxiously. “You can go back to bed if you like, I’ll bring you your meal on a tray.�

“No, ‘m all right,� mumbled Neville.

“He wanted to come down,� explained Mr Weasley to his wife in a low voice, and after a moment’s hesitation she shrugged helplessly and sat down. Harry guessed that she didn’t want to force Neville to do anything he didn’t want to do after what he had already been through today.

Harry had been waiting for this chance to talk to Lupin, but he waited until the meal was in full flow and Tonks, Charlie, Flavia, Sullius and Mr and Mrs Weasley were deep in conversation before leaning over to Lupin and muttering, “Professor? Can I ask you something?�

“Of course, Harry,� said Lupin, smiling.

“I'm going to go to Godric’s Hollow tomorrow. Will you come with me?� As soon as the words left his mouth Harry wished he hadn’t said anything; the smile had left Lupin’s face and a strange look flickered in his eyes for a brief moment. He took a while to reply.

“Harry, I--there is really nothing much there. The house was ruined, you know.� Lupin had laid his knife and fork down on his plate and was regarding Harry with a troubled expression. Neville had also looked up and was watching Harry.

“I know,� Harry said awkwardly, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “I’m going to visit my Mum and Dad’s graves. Sorry--I shouldn’t’ve asked--�

But then Lupin interrupted him. “No--of course I will come, Harry. I’ll show you where they are buried. Are Ron and the others coming with you?�

Harry nodded. “And--you’re sure you don’t mind?� he said carefully.

Lupin just gave him a small smile and shook his head before picking up his knife and fork again and turning to join in the conversation with Sullius.

That night Harry went to bed feeling strangely excited; tomorrow he would see his parents’ graves--he would be closer to them than he had been since he was a very young boy. Harry put out the candles lighting his bedroom much earlier than usual, hoping that he would fall asleep quickly and the morning would come before he knew it.

---

Reviews would be extremely cool :)

That night, Harry had a very vivid dream. He thought that his mother was holding him in her arms, holding him as she might have held him when he was just a baby, while his father stood near them both, smiling and ruffling Harry’s already messy hair. When Harry felt the morning draw near and the dream began to fade, he closed his eyes tighter, half-wishing, half-believing that it was real. And when he finally had to admit that the dream had gone, and opened his eyes, Harry still felt a desperate sense of longing and a deep sadness within him.

Harry remembered as soon as he awoke that today he would be near his parents again. Indeed, the knowledge that he was going to Godric’s Hollow had never really left him all night. Glancing out of the window, he saw that it was still very early; the cold raw light of dawn illuminated the dingy road, over which starved-looking cat wandered forlornly. Harry looked over at Ron. He was still deeply asleep, and so got dressed as silently as possible so as not to wake him.

At this early hour, Harry had not expected anyone to be up yet and so was surprised when he entered the kitchen to see Lupin sat alone at the table, drinking a cup of black coffee and thoughtfully studying the Daily Prophet. Lupin looked up as Harry came through the door, and smiled.

“You’re up early,� he said, rising and picking up the kettle. “Tea? Coffee?�

“Er—yeah, tea would be good,� said Harry, and Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand; it immediately started to boil.

“Thanks,� said Harry when Lupin handed him the teacup, and they sat down at the table together.

“There’s been a breakout from Azkaban,� said Lupin, gesturing at the front page of the newspaper.

“Has there?� said Harry, though he wasn’t too surprised; since the Dementors had left there had been several isolated escapes. But when he looked over at the paper, Harry choked on his tea. Even upside down, he had no problem recognising Lucius Malfoy, father of Draco Malfoy, Harry’s schoolfellow and enemy.

“Oh, great,� said Harry, scowling. “Now Malfoy’s got his daddy back and Voldemort one of his slimiest followers. Bet it won’t take him long to find someone to murder.�

Lupin sighed, but said nothing, and the two of them lapsed into silence, reading the article and sipping their drinks. At least, thought Harry, Voldemort might still be angry with Lucius for failing to deliver to him the prophecy he wanted, that predicted what was to become of him and Harry. The last Harry had heard, Voldemort had not been happy with Lucius at all.

Together they sat until the first real light of morning began shining through the kitchen window and Hermione and Ginny came downstairs, a tousle-haired, yawning Ron slouching behind her.

“When are we going?� Hermione asked Harry as she buttered herself some toast.

Harry started to answer when the kitchen door creaked opened again, and Neville wandered in looking as though he barely knew where he was. Last night’s sleep didn’t appear to have done him much good; if anything, the dark circles around his eyes appeared to have deepened.


“Hi, Neville,� said Harry, pulling him out a chair. “Toast?�

“I don’t mind, whatever you’ve got—are you going to your mum and dad’s house now?�

Harry was surprised that Neville had remembered last night’s conversation.

“Yeah, we are, why, do—d’you want to come?� he asked awkwardly. He didn’t see why Neville would be interested, but felt it would look unfriendly to deliberately not include him.

But Neville just murmured, “No, I’ll stay here ... Auntie Enid sent over some of Gran’s things they found in the ruins, I think I’ll have a look through them.� His voice was very quiet, and a few minutes later he wandered out of the kitchen and back upstairs, leaving his uneaten toast on his plate.

Hermione gazed sympathetically in the direction Neville had just left.

“He’ll be all right,� Ginny assured her. “He can’t go around like this forever.�

“He was lucky not to have been killed,� said Harry. “Lucky that someone raised the alarm before they could finish him off.�

“Well, maybe …� said Hermione thoughtfully, and she picked up her toast and began eating it mechanically, her eyes vague.

---

When Mrs Weasley came downstairs in a flowery purple dressing-gown ten minutes later, she looked surprised to see them all getting up, ready to leave.

“Are you going somewhere?� she asked them anxiously, as Hermione cleared the table of the dirty breakfast plates.

“Professor Lupin’s taking us to my mum and dad’s house,� said Harry, surreptitiously checking that his wand and the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his father were in his pocket.

“Oh—he is?� said Mrs Weasley, looking bewildered.

“We’ll be back by lunch,� said Ron.

“Oh,� she said again. “Well, take care … �

“They’ll be fine,� Lupin assured her, smiling.

“We’re only going to Godric’s Hollow, Mum—don’t be so paranoid,� said Ginny as she gripped Harry’s arm, ready to be Apparated.

Harry only half heard Mrs Weasley snapping at Ginny for being cheeky; he was getting butterflies of excitement in his stomach again as he focused his mind on Godric’s Hollow. Soon he would see his parents’ last resting-place, and their old house!

“Let’s go,� muttered Lupin to them all, and together they turned on the spot.

Moments later, they had reached their destination.



Harry didn’t know what he had expected. Perhaps to feel a tingle of recognition, that he was finally coming home; but as he stared around, all he felt was an overwhelming sense of unfamiliarity. It was a pretty enough village from what he could see from where he had landed in the village-square, but it all felt new to him. He gazed around at the cluster of small, red-roofed houses with their little flower-filled front gardens and wondered where his parents had lived, and if they had been happy here.

“Um, Professor?� Harry heard Hermione whisper behind him. “I think that child saw us arrive.�

Harry followed the direction of her finger and saw the curious face of a boy, probably only five or six years old, peeking at them from his bedroom window.

Lupin glanced up at the boy for a second, then shrugged. “We can’t do anything. He’s probably a Muggle child, anyway. I highly doubt that his parents would believe him if he said he’d seen a group of people appear from thin air. Luckily, it’s still early,� he added, glancing round. “I don’t think anyone else saw us.�

“Can we go to the house, now?� Harry asked Lupin, who sighed.

“Don’t be surprised if there is nothing left, Harry,� he warned, as they began to walk in the direction he indicated.

They passed a row of small, cheerful-looking shops whose windows were mostly full of flower displays or had big jars of Muggle sweets against the glass. Harry noticed a tiny, insignificant little building on the end of the row which paraded rows of Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Whizzbees, and several other wizarding sweets that Harry recognised instantly. He guessed that Muggles would not be able to see this particular sweet-shop.

Lupin led them up a little path through a bare field and Harry thought that they were aiming for the woods he saw beyond when Lupin came to a sudden stop.

“What’s the matter?� Hermione asked. “Why are we stopping?�

“This is it,� said Lupin sadly, gesturing around at the empty field. “This is where their house was.�

Hermione looked embarrassed and glanced over at Harry, who barely noticed.

“This is it?� Harry repeated, looking up at Lupin. “The house used to be here?�

Lupin nodded. Harry looked at the grass, the wild flowers, the blackbird pecking busily at a fallen apple. Nothing was here to even suggest James and Lily Potter had spent the few happy years of their marriage in this spot; nothing remained of the place where Harry had lived for the first year of his life.

“Did the Muggles have the ruins cleared away?� asked Hermione quietly.

“Probably,� said Lupin. Harry looked up and, seeing Lupin’s face, wished again that he had never asked him to come. But Lupin suddenly bent down to look at a few flowers tangled in the grass, a strange expression on his face.

“These aren’t wild flowers,� he said softly. “Your mother planted these when she first came here, Harry … and this, see—� He knelt beside a delicate white flower which stood tall still, bravely fighting the weeds threatening to choke it.

“It’s a lily … I remember James insisting she have them all over the garden. Lily said he was being stupid.� And he smiled.

“Ron, what are you doing?�

Hermione’s voice floated over to them. Harry, Ginny and Lupin all looked over to see Ron kneeling on the ground, tearing up great handfuls of grass. He looked up, a smudge of earth on his cheek.

“Here, see this,� he said, beckoning them over. “I just stood on it.�

They crowded round. In the space that he had cleared was a small, white stone slab, cracked down the centre by the weeds pushing up from below. Harry leant forward to read the faded, broken inscription.


James Potter
Lily Potter
Here gave their lives
In the battle against Darkness


“They were standard Ministry markers,� said Lupin. “Laid wherever anyone died fighting Voldemort.�

Harry stared at the simple words on the worn stone, and felt a rush of gladness that the place where they had lived and died had not been completely forgotten. He brushed away the last of the dirt covering the stone with his fingers, and cleared away the weeds. As a last thought, he lifted the side of one stone and fitted it back into place. To his surprise, the crack suddenly disappeared; the stone was whole. It wasn’t until he saw Hermione tucking her wand back into his robes that he realised she had repaired it.

They sat there in silence for nearly quarter of an hour, Harry gazing around at the bare field and his mother’s flowers and trying to imagine what this place would have been like sixteen years ago. After a while, Lupin’s voice broke into Harry’s thoughts.

“Do you wish to see James and Lily’s graves?�

At these words, Harry looked up, and nodded quickly.

“Where’s the church?� he asked, standing up and looking around.

“The church?� said Lupin. “Oh—they weren’t buried in a Muggle churchyard, Harry. No, they are in the woods.�

“The woods?� said Harry in surprise, looking over at the friendly cluster of trees at the end of the field.

“Yes, the Ministry arranged for them to be buried in a secluded clearing; so that they wouldn’t be disturbed by curious Muggles,� said Lupin, as he motioned at them to follow. “The Ministry also laid quite a complex web of Muggle-Repelling Charms at the time of the funeral; it is possible they are still in effect.�

The path they took through the trees was possibly just an animal track, for it was narrow, winding and overgrown with straggling plants. Several times they had to stop and push back the branches which blocked the way, and Harry was just wondering how long exactly this was going to take when the trees began to thin and he glimpsed a sun-dappled clearing through the branches. With a jolt, Harry realised that this must be it. The dead twigs under his feet crackled as he eagerly stepped towards his parents’ final resting place.

Harry’s initial reaction was one of indignation. The place bore a distinct air of neglect: why, one of the tombstones had fallen right over so the inscription was hidden and the other (his mother’s) was crumbling at the base. Harry sank to his knees in front of the graves and ran his fingers over the weather-worn stone.

“Mum,� he whispered. “Dad … � It was strange and terrible to think that his parents were so close to him, and yet so unreachable. Harry stared at the long inscription, the delicate letters still startlingly vivid against the old stone.


Lily Potter (1960—1981)
Loved by all who knew her
Mother of the Boy Who Lived
Wife of James Potter
Who died beside her as they fought against evil
May their souls rest together for all eternity


To Harry’s sudden horror he realised that his eyes were wet, and he surreptitiously wiped them on his sleeve, hoping the others hadn’t noticed. But it seemed they were tactfully staying back at the trees, giving him some privacy.

A few moments later, Harry felt rather than saw Lupin kneel down behind him, and they sat there for a while, neither speaking. On an impulse, Harry reached over, broke the stems of a cluster of wild purple flowers close by, and laid them gently on his mother’s grave. There was little he could do for his father’s gravestone, which lay grey and broken across the grass.

It was Hermione’s sudden, terrified scream that alerted Harry to the fact that they were not as alone as he had thought. There was a sudden crashing of leaves behind him, and another scream, this time from Ginny. Harry stood up so fast that he twisted his ankle, staggered, and fell over.

“Ginny!� he yelled, as he struggled to his feet, furious with himself. A flash of white light seared through the air straight at him and Harry only just managed to get his wand out in time to shout “Protego!� The white light crashed into the shield he had created and it shattered. Harry was knocked to the ground again with the rushing force of the curse, whatever it was, and was jerked to his feet by a terrified-looking Hermione.

“What’s happening? Where’s Ginny?� Harry shouted at her. Seven or eight hooded, cloaked figures were suddenly emerging from the woods on all sides, closing in on them. With another surge of fury, Harry heard the familiar malevolent cackle of Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius’ killer.

“Harry, get out of here!�

Lupin was gesturing frantically at Harry to leave, while locked in a duel with a huge Death Eater. The duel only lasted a few seconds: the Death Eater fell and Lupin sent a stunner at the back of another that Ron was attempting to take on by himself. The jet of red light hit the man directly between the shoulder-blades.

Harry just managed to deflect a curse which came shooting at him, and Ron came charging over to them, panting and ducking a jet of white light that passed over his head.

“Harry, let’s go, we can’t fight them all!� he yelled. Harry barely heard him; he had just identified a slim woman with thick, shining dark hair firing off stunners in all directions.

“Pyrashio!� Harry bellowed, aiming his wand at her. The Pyratus Charm was more powerful than he had ever imagined. An explosion of fire thundered out of the tip, crashing in licking, rolling waves towards Bellatrix, who screamed and fell, the Shield Charm she uttered barely protecting her. The backlash of the spell nearly caused Harry to fall again, and he would have done but was stopped by a slender but strong arm that caught him from behind.

“Ginny!� said Harry, relief flooding him. But there was no time to think, no time to say anything else, for at that moment Harry’s insides froze as he saw a tall figure step out from between the trees across the clearing, a figure with a face that had haunted his dreams for months: a chalk-white face, with slit-like nostrils and blood-red eyes.

Lord Voldemort did not waste words. He simply pointed his wand directly at Harry and let loose the Killing Curse. Harry threw himself to one side as the jet of red light flashed towards him and heard Voldemort’s angry scream; the curse had hit a Death Eater. Still amazed that he was actually alive and unhurt, Harry staggered once more to his feet and stood facing Voldemort.

“HARRY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!� Hermione screamed at him wildly, while stopping with the Inertius Charm a curse thrown at her by Bellatrix, who seemed to have recovered though her hair and face were terribly burnt.

Voldemort raised his wand again.

“Avada—� but the words of the Killing Curse never finished leaving his lips. Lupin was suddenly in front of Harry, battling Voldemort on his own. Harry was horrified at what Lupin was doing—he was going to get himself killed if he tried to take on Voldemort alone! But at that moment Harry was distracted. A curse fired by one of the Death Eaters shot past him and smashed into Lily Potter’s gravestone. Another Death Eater from across the clearing for some reason started screaming in anger as the gravestone splintered into a crumbled mess. Though the voice was familiar, Harry barely heard it through the sudden rushing noise that filled his ears. White-hot fury was roaring in Harry’s chest and he turned on the Death Eater who had fired the spell. The man laughed.

“Oh, it seems I missed my target,� the Death Eater taunted. Harry recognised the voice of Amycus, whom he had met the night of Dumbledore’s murder, and didn’t stop to think.

“Sectum sempra!� Harry shouted, slashing his wand at the hooded figure, who screamed and crashed to his knees on the grass, clutching his face with suddenly bloodied hands. Harry felt a grim sense of satisfaction that he had partially made up for the gravestone being broken, when Hermione screamed into his ear.

“Harry, if you don’t get out of here this minute, we’re all going to be killed!�

“What about Lupin?� Harry yelled back, casting a hasty shield charm to prevent a curse aimed at him from blowing his head off. Ginny was fighting someone beside Harry, and Lupin was still locked in combat with a furious Voldemort. Though he was, amazingly, still standing, Harry was sure that Lupin couldn’t hold off the Dark Lord for much longer.

“If you go, Professor Lupin will go!� said Hermione desperately. “What do you think he’s doing? He’s holding off Voldemort so you can get out of here!�

In all the noise and confusion Harry was suddenly aware of another familiar voice (Narcissa Malfoy’s?) laughing and saying silkily, almost lovingly: “Crucio!�

Ginny screamed in pain and crashed to the ground beside Harry, yelling and thrashing her limbs around wildly.

“Stupefy!� Ron and Harry bellowed together, pointing their wands at Narcissa, who crumpled onto the grass, unconscious.

“Ginny!� said Harry desperately, throwing himself down beside her. But she was all right: her eyes flickered open after a few seconds and she started to struggle to her feet. It was this that brought Harry to his senses. What was he doing? If he didn’t leave now someone was going to die, and it would be his fault. He knew that the others wouldn’t leave until he was safe; they were too loyal to desert him now. Even now Ron was fighting off Death Eaters, letting loose another Pyratius Charm and in doing so giving Harry time to decide.

It was one of the hardest things Harry had ever done in his life. But he glanced at Hermione, who had a large gash across her cheek and blood running down her face, Ginny who was white and trembling from the Cruciatus Curse, and Lupin who had just thrown himself bodily to one side to avoid a Killing Curse from Voldemort. And Harry took a deep breath, turned on the spot, and Disapparated.

---

Leaving the noise and blood of the battle behind, Harry reappeared in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. It seemed curiously silent after the noise of the battle he had just been in. Within seconds the rest of them—Ron, Ginny clasping Hermione’s arm, and Lupin who had somehow survived the duel unhurt—had joined him with a series of popping sounds. Harry immediately felt worried; Ron and Ginny both looked furious.

“Took you long enough!� Ron hurled at Harry, who was taken aback.

“What on earth were you playing at?� said Ginny, who was still shaking, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Why didn’t you just leave straightaway?�

Harry felt a gnawing guilt begin to burn at his insides. “I was—I saw Bellatrix … and Amycus—and …� Harry heard his voice trail away. The reasons he had stayed for so long and risked the lives of his friends seemed pathetic now.

“Harry, we know you have reason to have a personal grudge against half of Voldemort’s followers,� said Hermione, who seemed to be trying to speak calmly. “But the important thing is to get rid of the Horcruxes and then—� she broke off suddenly in alarm, and glanced at Lupin, who raised his eyebrows. Harry looked daggers at Hermione, who covered her mouth with her fingertips.

Lupin looked from Harry to Hermione, one eyebrow raised, and sat down at the table. “Horcruxes, hm? I see … Now, do you wish me to know any more or shall we just pretend I never heard that?�

Harry didn’t know what to say. A while ago he had wanted Lupin to know, wanted his help. But now it seemed that more and more people were slowly hearing things about what he was doing: Mundungus Fletcher, possibly Rufus Scrimgeour, and soon Dumbledore’s brother Aberforth. Harry was becoming reluctant to let anyone else at all in on the secret.

Lupin sensed Harry’s indecision and smiled. “Harry, you don’t have to tell me anything. But if you ever need any help … well, I’m always here, you know.�

Harry nodded gratefully but before he could say anything they heard the sound of Mrs Weasley’s footsteps padding down the stairs. Lupin’s gaze suddenly flicked in alarm over them all—the blood, the gash on Hermione’s face, the dirt on their robes—and he stood up hastily.

“What have I been thinking!� he said, looking horrified, as with surprising speed he began healing their cuts and bruises, cleaning the blood, mud and grass off their clothes with a quick “Scourgify!� and motioning them all to sit down round the table. “Not a word to Molly, she’ll never let you out of the house again!� he added hurriedly.

They had all just managed to throw themselves into chairs and arrange their faces into suitably relaxed expressions when Mrs Weasley came through the door.

“Oh, you’re back!� she said, smiling. “How was it, Harry?� she added as she rummaged in the cupboard for some biscuits. Harry thought of his mother’s broken gravestone and the encounter with Lord Voldemort, and noticed Hermione concealing a nasty bruise on her hand with the sleeve of her robe.

“Er—it was—it was lovely,� he said, taking a Ginger Newt from the tin she offered him. Beside him, Ron coughed. Harry noticed Lupin shoot Ron a quick warning glance, and Ron shut up.

“Well, that’s good, Harry dear,� said Mrs Weasley. “Oh, I have a message for you from Tonks, Remus,� she added. Lupin looked over at her.

“She says that Harry might need your help, so she’ll get out of the way for a bit. She doesn’t want to harm Harry’s chances by taking up your time.�

Lupin looked surprised, then chuckled. “Tonks thinks I’ll be that useful, hm? Well, Harry, what do you think?�

Harry didn’t know what to say. If Tonks was going out of her way to allow Lupin to help him … and after all, Lupin had probably just saved all their lives by holding back Voldemort before he could kill Harry.

“I dunno,� said Harry awkwardly. “I mean, it would be great if you could help us, obviously, but—� The dangers were very great. Harry didn’t want to be the cause of Tonk’s becoming a widow, though he didn’t want to voice this aloud. Lupin seemed to guess what he was thinking, and sighed.

“Harry, I would have gone through anything with James if he had asked. I will help you if you wish it. Don’t worry for my safety; I am quite capable of looking after myself.� And he gave Harry a small smile. Harry hesitated, then nodded.

“Okay,� he said slowly. “If we need you ... �

Lupin smiled, and rose. “Good good,� he said cheerfully, clapping his hands. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a little work to do for the Order. Call me if you need help with anything.� And he left the kitchen.

After a quick lunch, they went up to Harry and Ron’s bedroom. To their surprise, Neville was in the room, sitting on Harry’s bed and staring into space, listlessly twisting a silver Sickle between his fingers.

“Hi, Neville!� said Ron, plonking himself down on the bed.

“Hi, Ron. How was the trip?� Neville spoke as if only out of politeness.

“Uh, well it wasn’t too good, we got attacked by Death Eaters, but otherwise it was fine.� Neville didn’t look too disturbed by the news.

“Oh, right. But you weren’t hurt.� It was a statement, not a question, and they just nodded awkwardly. Harry didn’t know how to talk to Neville when he was like this, and he found himself thinking sadly of the cheerful, friendly round-faced boy he had known at Hogwarts. It was Voldemort who had done this, Harry thought bitterly. When was it all going to end?

Then Harry thought of something that might cheer Neville up.

“D’you want to have a DA session, Neville?� They needed to practise some more spells, one afternoon certainly wasn’t enough (though what they had learnt already had probably saved their lives that morning). Neville had loved the old defence class Harry had run in his fifth year, which they had named Dumbledore’s Army.

But Neville just shrugged. “If you like,� he said impassively.

So that afternoon they dragged out Hermione’s store of books and spent the hours happily jinxing each other and trying out some really weird spells. Not all were particularly useful, but in between the more serious stuff, they had fun watching each others’ faces turn pea-green or spurting bogey-coloured goo from their mouths.

That night Harry lay in bed, enjoying rereading Quidditch Through the Ages yet again and listening to Neville’s quiet snores in the room beside. And just as he got to one of his favourite parts, Hermione and Ginny walked in.

“I’ve written another letter,� said Hermione. Harry laid down the book slightly reluctantly and looked over at her.

“Who to?�

“Professor Dumbledore’s brother, Aberfoth,� said Hermione, handing it to him. “We need to find that locket as soon as possible.�

Harry took the letter and read it through quickly.


Dear Mr Dumbledore,

Sorry to bother you, but we’ve been told that you have an object which we’ve been looking for quite some time. I can’t be explicit here in case the owl is intercepted but it was something you bought from Mundungus Fletcher two years ago. Is there any chance we could come and have a talk about it? We also would like to ask you some questions about Professor Dumbledore, if you would be so kind as to help us.


Beneath Hermione and Ginny had signed their names and Hermione held out the quill for Harry. He signed the parchment thoughtfully. “What sort of questions did you want to ask Aberforth?� he said, handing the quill over to Ron, who scrawled his name untidily across the bottom of the letter.

“Oh, this and that,� said Hermione. “I don’t really know. But Professor Dumbledore might have told him some secrets, you never know.�

“Yeah, maybe,� agreed Harry, getting out of bed and going across to Hedwig’s cage. She blinked at him as he opened the door and she settled on his arm, claws digging into his flesh. Harry rolled up the parchment, sealed it with his wand and tied it to her leg.


“Take it to the Hog’s Head pub, okay?� he told her as he carried her over to the window. “To the barman, Aberforth.�

Hedwig hooted softly in understanding and glided out of the window, soaring over the rooftops of London like a silent white ghost until she disappeared into the inky darkness of the night.

“I hope he doesn’t mind us coming to see him,� said Hermione, sounding slightly nervous. “He didn’t look very friendly when he came here a few weeks ago.�

“Yeah, well we have to get the locket so we’ll be going over there whether he likes it or not,� shrugged Harry. “It’ll just be easier if he agrees.�

He swung himself back into bed, suddenly feeling tired. And when Hermione and Ginny had gone back to their own room and Ron extinguished their bedside lamp, Harry didn’t notice that the snoring noises which had been coming from Neville’s room had now ceased.

September the First arrived. As the day progressed, Harry found himself wistfully following in his mind what he would have been doing had he been any other Hogwarts student. Now arriving at Platform Nine and Three Quarters; now boarding the bright red Hogwarts Express; now buying Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties from the short little witch who pushed the lunch trolley. He found himself missing Hogwarts almost constantly – missing everything about the old castle with its moving portraits and talking suits of armour and the hundreds of pearly-white, translucent ghosts. He would have given anything to be back there now, even in the dullest class of all, History of Magic.

But summer was fading and autumn drawing near; the treetops Harry could see from his bedroom window were at the mid-way transformation from green to gold, and the evenings had begun to lengthen. As the days passed, Harry knew he should not let himself dwell on what could have been. He had a job to do. And so, as they waited for Aberforth’s reply, the four of them spent the days learning to duel. Neville often joined them, too, but he wasn’t even half as enthusiastic now as he had been in the old DA days, and on this particular day he wandered off after an hour, shutting himself back in his room.

Ginny was coming on amazingly quickly; as her parents had predicted, she did seem to be more powerful than they had realised. She was learning to control and perfect her wandless magic, usually testing her new skills on the unfortunate Ron.

“Why am I always the guinea-pig?� Ron grumbled as he gingerly picked himself up from the dusty floorboards yet again, rubbing his aching backside. Not wanting to hurt Ron’s feelings, Harry refrained from mentioning that he was the only one Ginny could easily take by surprise.

“Because you’re the only one I can surprise easily,� shrugged Ginny. Harry rolled his eyes, then looked over at Ron. He was wearing a mortally offended expression.

“That’s – that’s not true!�

“Ennerex!� Ginny said suddenly, flinging her arm out. Ron was lifted clean off his feet and thrown halfway across the room. Ginny grinned, but Ron just looked mutinous as he picked himself up yet again, having added to his collection of bruises.

“Oh, Ron, you really need to work on your reflexes,� sighed Hermione as she sat on the bed, leafing through an enormous green-bound book entitled Curses of the More Gruesome Kind. Ron looked even more hurt.

“I don’t see you having great reflexes!�

“My reflexes are fine, Ron,� murmured Hermione, turning the page. Ron glared at her, then quickly raised his wand and shouted,

“Karashio!�

The flash of blue light seemed to shudder in mid-air, then rebounded without warning on Ron, who yelled in horror as it engulfed him. Harry quickly went to Ron and helped him up, smothering his laughter as he saw Hermione still sitting reading on the bed, her wand tip just visible from beneath her book. She was smirking slightly.

“As I said, Ron, my reflexes are fine.�

“Did that curse actually do anything to him?� said Ginny curiously, watching her brother. “He looks normal to me.�

Ron was looking healthy, but worried.

“I think –� he began, but stopped, coughed, and released a huge, noisy belch. Harry leapt back in disgust as putrid greenish fumes were released from Ron’s insides, reeking of dead fish and rotten eggs.
“Ugh!� said Ginny in disgust. “Ron!�

“Oh no – it means I –� he burped again. “Let out this stuff whenever –� Another belch, worse than before. “I try to speak!�

“Ron, shut UP!� cried Hermione, clutching a handful of her robe and covering up her mouth and nose. “We can see – we can smell what happens when you speak, there’s no need to explain!�

Ron rubbed his stomach anxiously. “But there’s no counter-curse, I don’t think – I can’t go around like this forever!� The stink that followed this speech was so bad that Harry, choking, opened the windows to release some of the green gas and pulled Hermione and Ginny to the door.

“Ron, mate, stay here for a bit, would you?� he said, wafting away the fumes coming his way. “Does it wear off?�

“Don’t answer that!� said Ginny hurriedly, as Ron opened his mouth again.

“You three, I’m going to get out of here before I’m sick,� said Hermione, withdrawing from the room. They heard her footsteps clattering down the stairs.

“Ron, sorry but you’re going to have to stay here till it stops,� said Harry sympathetically. “If you must, er - try and do it out of the window.� Ron nodded and sat on the bed, looking thoroughly dejected. Harry closed the door and breathed in a saving lungful of the unpolluted air of the corridor. He noticed that Ginny had already followed Hermione, and, trying not to listen to the sound of Ron’s miserable burps from inside the room, Harry joined them downstairs.

Mrs Weasley was just getting dinner ready when he walked into the kitchen. She accepted Harry’s quick explanation than Ron had just suffered a slight accident in a duel and that, though he wasn’t badly hurt, he wasn’t really ready to eat yet.

“I don’t know, you lot are always searching for trouble,� was all she said, shaking her head as she flicked her wand at some potatoes. They immediately lined up neatly like soldiers on the chopping board and a sharp knife floated over to them, dicing them with rather brutal speed.

Harry slipped into a chair beside Hermione and Ginny at the kitchen table, and soon Lupin, Tonks, Charlie, Mr Weasley and Flavia joined them. Harry hadn’t seen Tonks for a while, and she greeted him enthusiastically as she peered into the huge saucepan of hot stew that Mrs Weasley had just carried over to the table.

“Mm, it looks delicious, Molly. It was so busy today at the office I forgot to eat lunch. I’m starving!�
“Well, here you are, dear,� said Mrs Weasley affectionately, giving Tonks an extra large helping. Tonks eagerly dug her spoon into the steaming bowl, moaning in contentment as it reached her mouth.

“Thanks … yeah, trying to do Order work and keep on top of my Ministry paperwork, and hide from the Ministry the fact that I’m part of Dumbledore’s old club – barely have a spare moment,� she said between mouthfuls. “Old Jacob Grume was asking me funny questions today, too – I'm sure he suspects something.�
“Talking of the Ministry – I spoke to Percy at work today.�

It was with careful deliberateness that Mr Weasley slipped this into the conversation.

“Wh - what?� Mrs Weasley, who had been spooning stew into another bowl, dropped her ladle, not noticing as she liberally splattered Harry and Lupin with gravy.

“In fact, I should perhaps say Percy spoke to me.� Mr Weasley was speaking very cautiously as he looked his wife directly in the eye.

“What did he want?� whispered Mrs Weasley. Harry, wiping gravy from his glasses, noticed that her hands were gripping the table edge very tightly. Mr Weasley sighed.
“Well – he was asking about Harry.�

“Harry?� said Mrs Weasley, Lupin and Hermione together.

“What?� said Harry, instantly wary. “What was he asking about me?�

“Well, at first he pretended he just wanted to know if you was safe,� began Mr Weasley. “But then he started asking where you were going, what you’ve been doing – I’d bet every last Galleon that Scrimgeour put him up to it.�

Harry was feeling suddenly anxious. “You didn’t tell him anything, did you?�

“Yes,� said Mr Weasley, looking uncharacteristically grim. “I did. I told him that if he thought he could drop his family like an unwanted glove and then use them to spy on his ex-fellow Gryffindors, then he was no longer my son.�

Ginny whooped and cheered, a wide grin on her face, but Mrs Weasley covered her mouth with her hands in horror, the congealing stew entirely forgotten.

“Oh, Arthur!�

Harry, Hermione, Tonks and Lupin exchanged an awkward glance and simultaneously began eating their stew as quickly as possible, so they would have an excuse to leave the table.

“Molly, he’s snubbed us and pushed us away for three years and now he’s just trying to use us,� said Mr Weasley tiredly. “Do you really think he’ll ever swallow his pride now?�

“But – but he’s my son!� Mrs Weasley said almost hysterically, a sob catching in her throat.

“He doesn’t have any reason to come back to us now, Mum.� Ginny flung her hair over her shoulders with an angry gesture. “Not when he’s with the Minister, who is of course much more important than just his own family.�

Finally, Lupin intervened. “Listen,� he said quietly. “If his family really matters to him, he’ll come back someday, regardless of what he has done and what Arthur has said. Wait and see. And if he really has stopped caring for you, then it is probably best, Molly, to just let him go.�

Mrs Weasley wrung her hands and looked at Lupin tearfully but to everyone’s relief, she finally gave a small, reluctant nod and sat down. Everybody resumed eating in an embarrassed silence, and Harry gulped down the rest of his stew almost without chewing, eyes watering as the heat singed his throat. Privately he thought that Percy was an ignorant git who shouldn’t be allowed back into the family even if he did realise what an idiot he had been. Though he supposed it probably wouldn’t be the best idea he’d ever had to voice this thought out loud, and so as soon as he had finished Harry excused himself and exited the room as quickly as was possible without appearing rude, Hermione following close behind.

For the next few weeks, the relationship between Mr Weasley and his wife was very strained. Mrs Weasley would be tearful and sensitive one minute, then snappish and bossy the next. Fred and George, once Ginny had sent them an owl informing them of Percy’s disowning, turned up a few days later to celebrate. They arrived on the doorstep lugging a huge box of Cauldron Cakes, Peppermint Toads and other wizarding sweets with them, ignoring their mother’s horrified exclamations of, “Fred! George! There is nothing at all to celebrate!�

But Harry didn’t join in the party that the twins started up regardless of Mrs Weasley's objections. Neither did Neville – he’d chosen to stay in his room again, but that didn’t surprise anyone. Harry, though, was worried about Hedwig; she had been gone now for nearly a month taking the letter to Aberforth. He was staring out of the window at the inky black sky when Ginny climbed upstairs and joined him in his room later that evening.

“She doesn’t usually take this long,� muttered Harry as she appeared at his side. “A journey to Hogsmeade and back usually only takes a couple of weeks.�

“She'll be fine, Harry,� comforted Ginny. “Maybe she met a dashing young tawny owl on the way,� she added, smirking. Harry raised his eyebrows at her and turned away from the window.

“I just don’t like it. If she’s got lost or injured – aside from the fact that she’s my pet, that letter to Aberforth or his reply could get lost, too.�

“Could do,� said Ginny casually. “But it hasn’t.�

“How can you say that? You don’t know.�

“Well, perhaps it’s an Illusionment Charm, but that letter she’s carrying doesn’t look lost to me.�

“What?� Harry looked back at the window, and laughed. Hedwig had suddenly appeared on the window-ledge, blinking up at him, a small scroll tied around one leg.

“Hey, girl – talk of the devil! C’mon in … � But Hedwig seemed restless and wary. She shifted from foot to foot, finally ignoring Harry’s outstretched arm and flapping into the room to perch on top of the wardrobe.

“What’s up with her?� said Harry, puzzled. It was with extreme difficulty and patience that he eventually managed to coax Hedwig down so he could untie the parchment from her leg. He handed the letter to Ginny, and she unrolled it while Harry tipped some Owl Treats into Hedwig’s food bowl, and tried to persuade his snowy owl to eat.

“All it says is ‘Yes. HH, Nov 12. AD’� Ginny said, looking over.

“HH, Nov 12,� repeated Harry. “Ouch – hey, stop that.� Hedwig had just nervously dug her claws into his hand. He pried her off and continued. “So, meet in the Hog’s Head on the twelfth – that’s in two days.�

“We’d better tell Ron and Hermione,� said Ginny. “No, wait – I’ll go! See this –�

And to Harry’s astonishment, she twirled on the spot, one eyebrow raised at him in amusement, and Disapparated. Harry’s mouth was still open when she returned a second later with Ron and Hermione. Ron looked just as flabbergasted as Harry felt.

“Ginny – how – when did you…?�

“Hermione’s been giving me lessons,� said Ginny proudly. “I finally managed to do it by myself yesterday.�

“Wow – that’s great!� said Harry, marvelling at what an able witch Ginny was becoming, far outstripping the others in her year.

“Yeah, cool,� said Ron, not quite managing to disguise the slight resentment in his voice. He’d had particular trouble with Apparition last year, when he’d been quite a bit older than Ginny was now.

There was a sudden movement outside their door. Harry, puzzled, walked across the room and was just about to check the landing when the door burst open. Fred and George stood there, both looking highly offended.

“What is this?� said Fred, giving them all a mock glare. “Private party upstairs?�

“Our humble gathering belowdecks too rough for you lot?�

“Our Cauldron Cakes too boring…�

“Our lowly company unneeded by the Chosen One…�

“The Boy Who Lived…�

“The –�

“All right, all right!� interrupted Harry loudly before they could go on. “We’ll be down in a minute.�

“Yeah, you will be,� said the twins together, and before he could open his mouth to protest, Fred grabbed his left arm, George took hold of his right, and together they turned on the spot. Harry was dragged with them through this double-Apparition and found himself downstairs in the lounge, where several Order members and the rest of the Weasley family, excluding Mrs Weasley, were gathered. Loud, extremely bad music blared from a battered wireless and Charlie was currently undertaking a see-who-can-eat-the-most-jelly-slugs-in-thirty-seconds contest with Flavia, who appeared to be winning.

---

Two days later, however, Fred and George were back in their joke shop, and Harry explained quickly to Mrs Weasley that they’d be out for the day. Hedwig had finally calmed down a bit, though she would still fluff up her feathers in panic every time Harry came into the room. Nobody could work out what was wrong with her – she seemed perfectly healthy, just chronically paranoid. Harry supposed that a quiet day in his room with the four of them gone would do her good.

“Apparition is so cool,� remarked Ron as the four of them appeared in Hogsmeade by the sweet shop, Honeydukes. “In London one minute, than snap.� He clicked his fingers. “Just like that!�

They started walking in the direction of the Hog’s Head.

“Oh, look – Scrivenshafts is closed,� said Hermione, pointing to the quill shop. Since Harry had last been to Hogsmeade for his Apparition test, the windows had been boarded up and the shop appeared desolate and sad-looking. As they gazed around, Harry realised that several of the old, familiar shops were now closed and deserted. Huge purple posters flaunting pictures of Death Eaters were plastered over the dusty glass.

“It’s as bad as Diagon Alley,� murmured Ginny sadly. None of them mentioned it, but Harry guessed they all felt the same way he did – Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, all the old haunts – they just weren’t the same any more. It was hard not to remember the good times they’d all had here, shopping, visiting the Shrieking Shack, sitting round small tables in the Three Broomsticks for hot pints of sweet Butterbeer. They were all so caught up in their memories that not one of them noticed the tall, lanky figure in a hooded robe gazing in their direction from across the street, over the top of a large newspaper.

The door of the Hog’s Head opened just as the four of them reached it, and Harry took an involuntary step backwards as the barman appeared.

“You’re here, then.�

It was a statement, not a question, and before Harry had collected his thoughts, Aberforth beckoned them into the bar and closed the door behind them with a snap. After seeing the sorry state of Hogsmeade, which was usually bustling with witches and wizards from all over the country, Harry wasn’t hugely surprised to find the usually crowded room was completely empty. The Leaky Cauldron pub in London had been similarly devoid of customers.

Aberforth motioned them into a grubby little back room, which smelt as strongly of goats as the main bar area. Hermione sat down very gingerly right on the edge of the stained sofa, which might once have been dark red but now was so filthy it was hard to tell.

“Sir – Mr Dumbledore –� began Harry awkwardly. It felt very strange calling someone else by the name Dumbledore, even a man who, beneath the grime and tangled hair, bore rather a startling resemblance to the old headmaster.

“We were wondering –�

“Yeah, I think I know what you were wondering,� said Aberforth shortly, holding up his hand for silence. Slowly, stiffly, he knelt down. They all watched him curiously, shooting each other nervous glances. The man really was quite strange.

Aberforth didn’t tell them what he was doing. He just lifted up the tattered rug, revealing a large rectangle of wooden boards that were so much cleaner than the rest of the floor they stood out starkly against the dirt. In the centre of the rectangle was a small iron ring which Aberforth took hold of and twisted sharply to the left. Harry drew in his breath as a thin line appeared, marking out a square – a trapdoor. Lifting the lid, a curious assortment of objects was revealed: a knife with a carved wooden handle, some yellowing documents, and what looked like a broken Biting Teacup. From beneath all this, the barman drew out a small object that was carelessly wrapped in greasy grey cloth, and Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. He was dying to jump up and grab the object from the man’s hand, but he controlled himself and waited.

Aberforth stood up, his shadowy eyes fixed on Harry. Then, with a single fluid movement, he shook the cloth, caught the golden object which fell out into his hand, and allowed the locket Horcrux to slither through his fingers to finally dangle, swaying slightly, from one grubby fingertip.

“Believe this was the object you came looking for.�

“Oh!� breathed Hermione.

Aberforth glanced at her. “A yes, I think. Take it.�

And without further preamble, he tossed the Horcrux at Harry, who caught it, stunned. “Th-thanks!� he stuttered, his breathing suddenly shallow with excitement. The locket was unnaturally cold and very heavy. As Harry stared at it, in his possession at long last, he saw the elegant, twining serpent in the shape of an ‘S’ etched into the gold. Slytherin’s mark. Harry’s mouth was dry with excitement and slight awe. Here was an object that had once belonged to one of the founders of Hogwarts, over one thousand years ago. He was grasping in his hand a possession of Salazar Slytherin, which now contained a fragment of the soul of the darkest wizard of this age – Lord Voldemort.

“What do you think?� grunted Aberforth, sitting down in a high-backed armchair. “Genuine Horcrux?�

“You know about the Horcruxes?� Harry was dismayed.

“I suggest you stow that thing away somewhere safe before you lose it again.�

Harry hastily stuffed the locket in the pocket inside his robes. The cold, hard lump weighed heavily against his chest.

“How much did Dumbledore tell you?�

“Albus told me nothing about Riddle’s Horcruxes. But I have had … past experience.�

“What do you mean?� whispered Hermione. She was staring at Aberforth very intently.

“I mean that I was there forty years ago when Albus found and destroyed Grindelwald’s Horcrux.�

“Whose Horcrux?� the four of them spoke simultaneously.

Aberforth surveyed them shrewdly beneath dusty-coloured eyebrows. “None of you kids have heard of Adolph Grindelwald?�

“It rings a bell,� said Hermione slowly. Ron and Ginny were looking blank, but Harry, like Hermione, had a feeling that he had seen the name before – if he could just remember where.

“Grindelwald was the darkest wizard the world had ever seen before Riddle came along,� Aberforth informed them. “Want a drink?� he added, gesturing with one clawed hand to the filthy bar outside the room. They all politely refused.

“Riddle eclipsed him, you could say.�

“Why do you keep calling Voldemort ‘Riddle’?� said Hermione suddenly. “I thought not many people knew that was his name.�

Aberforth grunted. “I knew Riddle when he was just a kid at Hogwarts,� he said. “And later, too.�

“Why, you weren’t – you weren’t his teacher, were you?� said Ginny, puzzled.

Aberforth looked at her. The whites of his eyes were yellow with age and he suddenly looked very sour.

“Like I could ever be a teacher,� he muttered darkly, staring into the empty grate, which was scattered with the remains of a long-dead fire. “I need a drink,� he said, getting up abruptly and shambling out of the door into the bar. He returned a second later with a bottle of Firewhiskey, which he took a long swig from before continuing.

“No, girl, I was never even a student at Hogwarts.�

“You weren’t?� said Harry, astonished. “Why not?�

Aberforth glared at him, and Harry wished he’d never spoken. The atmosphere in the room grew extremely uncomfortable. Then –

“Mehhh!� Harry jumped in surprise and shock as the door flew open and in trotted one of the queerest animals he had ever seen.

“What is that?� said Ron, staring at the creature in intrigued bewilderment, and not a little revulsion. It looked as though it might once have been a goat, though its coat was now a strange mass of fur and feathers, and a huge, yellowish tongue protruded from its slack mouth, hanging nearly to the ground. Ginny shuddered.

“Out! Get out!� shouted Aberforth, brandishing the Firewhiskey bottle at the mutated goat, which gave a high-pitched bleat, more like a squeak, and shuffled backwards out of the room, bulging eyes rolling in its head. Aberforth rose and shut the door with a bang, then resumed his seat. Harry and Hermione exchanged slightly scared glances, but Aberforth broke the silence, carrying on as though Harry hadn’t said anything.

“I knew Tom Riddle ‘cause he used to come to the Hog’s Head on Hogsmeade weekends. But I’m getting off the point. I was with Albus when he got rid of Grindelwald’s Horcrux years ago. Not that anyone knew,� he added bitterly.

“And – and this Grindelwald had a Horcrux?� ventured Hermione timidly. She was watching the door nervously, evidently wondering if the goat-creature would reappear.

Aberforth slowly clapped his grimy hands, causing Hermione to go scarlet and shrink into her chair. Harry didn’t see why this should have been so obvious – he hadn’t realised it – but then, this man was pretty odd.

“Grindelwald had a Horcrux. Albus found out somehow, and within months had tracked it down. He nearly died in doing so – it was extremely well-protected.�

“Did you help destroy it?� asked Ron, looking at the old man with more respect. But Aberforth just snorted.

“Not as if I could do that,� he growled. “But I learnt then what Horcruxes were, and that meant when I heard Riddle had apparently returned from the dead, it wasn’t hard for me to work out just what had happened. Riddle was a great supporter of Grindelwald during his Hogwarts years – wouldn’t be surprised if he joined his ranks after he left school – but no doubt that’s where he first heard about Horcruxes. What’s wrong, girl?�

For Hermione was looking towards the window. “There was a shadow – no, never mind,� she said, shaking her head. “Just a passerby…�

Harry looked over. It looked like a perfectly normal window to him, albeit grimier than any he’d laid eyes on before. He could hear the goat’s hooves clip-clopping around the bar, and wondered again what on earth it was doing here.

“So – so you guessed Riddle had created some Horcruxes?� asked Ron, after a few seconds. “Why didn’t you tell Dumbledore when you bought this one?�

“Didn’t know it was a Horcrux then, did I?� growled Aberforth. “I collect stuff like that – old valuables, rarities ...� He pulled a key from inside his robes and opened the door of a large cupboard to reveal a startling array of gold and silver treasures. Harry scanned them quickly for signs of Hufflepuff’s cup (just in case), but in vain.

“Seeing as I can’t do a great deal in the wizarding world, I have to have something to keep me occupied aside from that bar. See this here,� Aberforth added proudly, motioning at a delicately moulded silver brooch. “Worth a fortune. Picked it up years ago in Diagon Alley. Don’t reckon the owner had any idea of its value. Got strong magical powers, apparently, though I’ve never been able to use them. I bought that there locket from Fletcher a couple of years ago – cost a bomb, but worth it, eh?�

“Yeah,� said Harry. “Yeah, thanks – that’s really brilliant…�

“Suggest you destroy it as soon as possible, boy.�

“Yeah,� said Harry again. “I will. Er – can I pay you for this?� he added, gesturing at the lump in his robes where the locket was concealed, and reaching into his pocket for his moneybag.

But Aberforth just waved an impatient hand. “Nah,� he said. “Count it as my contribution to the war against Riddle. Now go, just go, and get rid of it quickly.�

Harry nodded and rose. He would be quite glad to leave this strange old man and the goat smelling room behind.

“What was that?�

Ginny had started, and was staring at the window in alarm.

“I thought I saw – one moment!� she hissed, and before Harry got ask what on earth she was doing she’d slipped out of the door and into the bar.

“Keep talking, Ginny said!� said Hermione hurriedly, pushing Harry back into the chair from which he had risen. “She’ll be fine, she’s just checking no one’s there – so, um – so why did you never go to Hogwarts, Mr Dumbledore?�

Harry could tell Hermione had said the first thing that had come into her head and was now regretting it, for two pink spots had appeared on her cheeks as Aberforth looked long at her out of his deep eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…� she trailed off in confusion, her face getting pinker with each second until it resembled a giant Puffapod bean.

“Why didn’t I go to Hogwarts?� said Aberforth in a low, bitter tone, pronouncing each word with sour clarity. “I didn’t go to Hogwarts because Hogwarts does not accept people like me. People with no magical powers. People whose parents and grandparents and brothers are magic, who become the greatest wizards in the world, who become world famous. Not Squibs like me who live their lives out in a filthy place like this! � He gestured angrily at the squalid room. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?�

Harry was taken aback. It had never even occurred to him that the brother of someone as great as Dumbledore could possibly be a Squib. He and Hermione shot each other surprised glances, though for the life of him Harry couldn’t think of anything to say.

Ron, it seemed, didn’t have that problem.

“But – but what about that goat?� he said, jerking his head towards the door. “Isn’t that – haven’t you…?� A snorting, snuffling noise indicated that the goat was still there. Harry listened anxiously for a sign as to what Ginny was doing outside and was about to throw caution to the winds and follow her when Aberforth spoke again.

“It’s none of your business, boy,� growled Aberforth angrily, setting down his bottle of Firewhiskey with a bang. “If you must know, I tried out a Kwikspell course years ago and experimented on that wretched creature. Got dragged through the press, it did. Didn’t work, either, as you can see – and so I kept the animal to remind myself of the truth. I am not a wizard, nor will I ever be. I would be glad if you left now!�

Ron looked as though he wanted to apologise but couldn’t think of the right words. He was saved the trouble, however, by a loud bang that suddenly resounded right outside the window, followed by cries of fear and panic. Terrified about what Ginny was doing out there, and unable to stop himself, Harry jumped up and pulled open the window. What he saw made his stomach turn over in shock, and through a kind of numbness he felt Hermione’s arm dragging him to one side out of sight. Beside him, Ron let out a sort of strangled moan of shock. For there, sprawled inelegantly on the ground below the window with a furious Ginny standing over him, was Percy Weasley. His wand was rolling across the ground out of his reach.

“No…� breathed Harry in disbelief. “He wasn’t –�

“Following us!� shouted Ginny, her eyes flashing with a fire Harry had never seen before. Percy muttered something incoherent, his neck turning bright red, and tried to get up, but Ginny flicked her wand and he fell back again, his Ministry robes tangled absurdly round his legs.

“So, spying on our own family now, are we?� Ginny hissed. From across the street, Harry saw a few passers-by looking over curiously. One was wearing dark robes and something about the arrogant, haughty way he held himself seemed vaguely familiar …

“I was – just going to have a drink in the pub!� panted Percy, attempting to straighten his horn-rimmed glasses and cover up his embarrassment. “How was I supposed to know you were there?�

“Well, I imagine you noticed we were here when you spied on us through the window,� snapped Ginny, yanking him his to his feet, wand still pointed threateningly at his chest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,� said Percy pompously, straightening his crumpled robes. “I was just passing by.�

Beside Harry, Hermione made a quiet, scornful noise of disbelief, but she remained where she was, her hand still on Harry’s arm, warning him not to do anything rash.

“You expect us to believe that?� Ron suddenly leaned out of Aberforth’s window, looking at Percy as though his brother was something rather nasty he’d discovered on the sole of his shoe.

“Oh, Ron, you’re here too,� said Percy, assuming a most unconvincing expression of surprise as he avoided his younger brother’s scornful gaze and looking increasingly uncomfortable. “What are you two doing in a place like this? It’s – it’s dangerous round here nowadays!� He reached surreptitiously for his wand but Ginny kicked it away. It spun across the ground into a small, muddy puddle.

“Like you care,� sneered Ron. “I suppose you wanted some nice juicy information to report back to Scrimgeour? You’re pathetic.�

Percy’s neck was rapidly turning the exact shade of a tomato, but with his wand six feet away there was little he could do. Ginny’s wand was still trained on his chest. Aberforth, after one glance at the scene outside, had shrugged, poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey and sat back down. He was now acting as though not one of them was there, perhaps still brooding over the fact that he, and not his famous brother, had been a Squib. Harry, on the other hand, hovered just behind the windowframe, fighting the violent urge to climb out the window and start bashing every inch of Percy he could reach.

“Harry,� cautioned Hermione in a frightened whisper. “Don’t let him see you!� Harry tried very hard to stop himself doing something reckless that he would regret later. His fingernails dug into the wall. Most probably Percy knew he was there anyway … but maybe he should let the siblings sort out this family business themselves?

A second later Harry was highly thankful he had not disclosed his presence. There was a sudden popping sound and a short man with grey hair and a black moustache appeared. Harry just had time to recognise Dawlish, a Ministry Auror, before there was another pop and the pink-haired figure of Tonks joined him. Only then did Harry remember that they and other Aurors had been assigned to patrol the village of Hogsmeade.

“Well, now, what’s going on here?� said Dawlish in an official, clipped voice, glancing sharply between Percy and Ginny. Tonks gave only the slightest glance in Harry’s direction before silently turning to watch Percy pick up his wand, having regained his composure.

“Nothing, Dawlish. Just having a little chat with my – family,� said Percy stiffly, saying the last word extremely reluctantly. Ginny looked as though she wanted very badly to hex him into a pile of sludge and was probably only prevented from doing so by the presence of two Ministry Aurors.

“Abe?� said Dawlish suddenly, striding to the open window of Aberforth’s back room. Harry, in a panic, only just managed to pull the Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and throw it over himself and Hermione in time. Dawlish’s head popped through the frame, only inches away from where they stood hidden. Harry tried very hard not to breathe loudly.

“These kids haven’t been disturbing you, I hope?� Harry was sure this was just an excuse to see if anyone else was or had been with Aberforth, for Dawlish’s eyes were flicking round the room, taking in every detail – the pulled-back rug revealing the small trapdoor, and the crumpled sofa where the four of them had been sitting. At one point he stared right through Harry to the wall behind him. It was quite a creepy sensation.

“Nah,� said Aberforth slowly. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d go now, man, so I can finish my drink in peace.�

Dawlish’s gaze travelled round the room one more time before he nodded and withdrew his head. Tonks was still watching Ron and Ginny, one eyebrow very slightly raised.

“You two children had better be getting back,� she said in an offhand voice, as though she didn’t know them at all, though Harry could have sworn she gave Ron and Ginny a tiny wink. “It’s Percy, isn’t it?� she added casually. Percy nodded.

“Well, I’m sure you have things to be doing, Percy,� she said firmly.

Percy didn’t waste time. Before Harry realised what had happened, he had gone. Harry swore under his breath; he had hoped Tonks would wipe Percy’s memory before he left. Harry did not know how much Percy had overheard but hoped very much that Ginny had deterred her brother from learning anything vital. But Harry had a feeling that this was not the case.

Dawlish lingered until Ron and Ginny had, with a furtive glance in Harry and Hermione’s direction, Disapparated. Then with a curt nod to Aberforth, who had come to stand at the window clutching his Firewhiskey bottle, Dawlish, too, disappeared.

The moment he had gone, Harry threw off the Invisibility Cloak.

“Hi, Harry, Hermione,� said Tonks, not seeming at all surprised. “Should I ask?�

“Not really,� said Harry awkwardly, but Tonks just smiled.

“Thought not. I’ll see you around, then – keep safe.� And with a small pop, she too was gone.

“I have one last thing to say to you, boy.�

Harry turned back towards Aberforth, who was now looking slightly drunk but was still steady on his feet. Hermione watched curiously.

“You need to know the truth, boy, about a lot of things. I don’t think you realise how little of the truth you know. I advise you to go and sort out with Dumbledore whatever loose ends he left hanging. Now that he’s dead, he may have finally realised it is best not to keep things from you.�

“What are you talking about?� said Harry, confused. Perhaps Aberforth really was too drunk or crazy to know what he was saying. But the old man’s eyes flickered. He had guessed Harry’s thoughts.

“I’m not mad,� he said quietly. “Lots of things, I am, but not that. When you are able to, talk to my brother. Find out what you should have known many years ago.�

“How can I…?� Harry had no idea what Aberforth meant. How could he talk to a dead man? But Aberforth looked at him as though he was being exceptionally stupid.

“The portrait, boy.�

Hermione gave a soft “Oh!� of comprehension, but Harry just looked at them both blankly.
Aberforth set down the bottle and spoke slowly and clearly. “There’s a portrait of Albus hanging in his old office. And it can speak, you know.�

The portrait … Albus Dumbledore had joined the ranks of the many dozens of deceased Heads of Hogwarts on the walls of his office. Hadn’t Harry seen him there, with his own eyes, soon after Dumbledore’s death? But as the old man had been sleeping and Harry was rather too distressed to think about much of anything at that time, he had not given the matter any thought at all. A portrait of Dumbledore – almost as good a confidant as the real man!

With one eyebrow raised, Aberforth showed the two of them out. And, head spinning over this sudden revelation, Harry Apparated with Hermione back to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, where Ron and Ginny were anxiously waiting for them.

“Potter, it is a picture, nothing more. You’ll only upset yourself by talking to it.�

“But, Professor, it’s important!�

It was the day after they had come back from the meeting with Aberforth, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were having difficulty explaining to Professor McGonagall exactly why they wanted to visit Dumbledore’s portrait, which was hanging in her office.

“Well, I will not be the one to stand in your way, Potter, but really, I don’t see how this will do you any good.�

Harry rubbed his nose helplessly. There was so much they wanted to talk to Dumbledore about, but none of it was information they wished to disclose to McGonagall – or anyone else, for that matter. Beside him, Hermione shuffled her feet.

“Oh, very well,� said McGonagall, looking as though she was doing this against her better judgement. “The password is ‘Witherwings’, but for goodness’ sake remember it is nothing more than a representation of Albus, Potter, it is not him.�

“Thanks,� said Harry, relieved. For a moment, he had thought she was going to refuse.

“I shall check with Albus what time will be appropriate for you to visit. But Potter,� added McGonagall, looking at him sharply. “I advise you to wear that Cloak of yours. It would not do for you to be seen at Hogwarts. The stories flying around the school have not died down; you might well be besieged by inquisitive students.�

---

That afternoon, the four of them sat in Harry’s bedroom, having hidden the locket Horcrux in the drawer of a writing desk in Hermione’s room. They had decided to ask Lupin for advice on how to destroy the thing before attempting it themselves, but he was away from Grimmauld Place that day. For now, it remained well protected under Hermione’s strong Concealment Charms.

As they sat flicking through several more dusty spellbooks that Hermione had brought from the Hogwarts library, sudden footsteps sounded outside the door. Lately, Neville had been shutting himself away for increasingly long periods of time, and they had thought it best to leave him alone. So when the door swung open, they all looked up in surprise to see him standing there at the entrance to the room, breathing deeply. Harry realised this was the first time he had seen Neville for several days, and looking at him now, Harry knew something was wrong.

His friend was looking worse and worse; pale, and thinner than he had used to be. But what gave Harry a shock was the fact that Neville’s eyes were different. They were no longer dull and blank, but tortured, wild, confused.

“Neville, are you all right?� whispered Hermione, looking almost scared as he stood there, frozen, one hand still clenching the door handle tightly.

“Yes,� Neville replied, swallowing and sitting down on Harry's bed. “ I mean – no! I don’t know…I don’t know what I – what I – �

Harry rose in alarm. Neville’s face was white and strained, and even as Harry looked at him, the blankness descended over his eyes again, like fluttering, shadowy curtains.

A memory stirred in Harry’s mind – a nagging, half-suppressed remembrance of a dark night, the smell of damp leaves, a pair of mad, rolling eyes….

“Neville,� Harry breathed. “Hermione was right – they did do something to you.�

Neville didn’t respond, but as Harry stared at him, he thought he saw a glimmer of life behind the blank gaze.

“Is he – is he –� whispered Hermione, seeming scared to say it aloud. But Harry looked at her, and she looked back at them all, and Harry knew the truth as the full memory of that night with Barty Crouch in his fourth year hit him like a bag of lead.

“The Imperius Curse. It has to be. Neville!�

For Neville had risen from the bed with a sudden, uncontrollable jerk, and now he stumbled out of the room and down the stairs. In a flash, the rest of them followed.

They found him standing wildly in the kitchen, confronted by a bewildered Mrs Weasley. As Harry burst through the door, followed by Ron, Hermione and Ginny, Neville stepped backwards into a stack of clean saucepans by the stove and tripped. The clanging of falling metal resounded around the kitchen, and Mrs Weasley shouted, “What is the meaning of this?�

“Mum, he’s under the Imperius Curse!� shouted Ginny, as her mother stepped towards Neville, who was bent over, clutching his ankle.

“Be careful,� murmured Hermione, then raised her voice. “He’s not in control; he could attack you!�

“He’s not going to attack anyone,� said Mrs Weasley firmly, kneeling down.

“What’s going on?� Mr Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tall woman in yellow robes Harry didn’t know entered the room. Mrs Weasley looked up, a large smudge of flour on her forehead, and breathed deeply, taking control.

“Right – Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny – out!�

“But, Mum – �

“Out!� Mrs Weasley cried, brandishing a ladle, apparently under the delusion it was her wand. “Go! We’ll deal with this, go on – get out now!�

They went, and Mrs Weasley shut the door firmly behind them. They could hear lowered voices, the sounds of Neville’s groans – Ginny looked alarmed – and Mrs Weasley’s voice, raised above the rest.

“When I said ‘out’, you lot, I didn’t mean just outside the door.�

---

“I hope he’s okay,� said Hermione anxiously, when they were seated on the beds in Harry and Ron’s room again.

“Never mind ‘okay’!� said Harry loudly, and she looked at him, shocked.

“Harry –�

“Hermione, you do realise what Neville’s been doing?� She shook her head slowly, worriedly.

“Spying on us.� It was Ginny’s voice, low and sad, that answered the question. “He must have been communicating with the Death Eaters…telling them our movements.�

“But how?� said Hermione. “He has no way of sending messages – no owl – and he hasn’t set foot outside the house since he came.�

“I don’t know how, but of course he’s been sending messages,� said Harry impatiently. “There were Death Eaters in Godric’s Hollow, right after we told Neville where we were going. And I wouldn’t be surprised if there were Death Eaters watching in Hogsmeade yesterday – and at Azkaban. I thought there were too many Dementors around. I’ll bet it was Wormtail or another of those slimy gits….�

“I suppose so,� said Hermione. “But don’t forget, it could have been Percy.�

“Well, yeah…one slimy git looks the same as another, really….�

“Oh, very funny….�

“You lot!� They stopped arguing as Mrs Weasley’s voice floated up the stairs. “You might want to come down now.�

Harry jumped off the bed, and the four of them went downstairs.

“Neville?� he said tentatively, as they reached the kitchen door, which was shut. A second later, it opened a little, and Mrs Weasley’s head popped round the doorway.

“Never mind Neville, we’re dealing with him,� she said firmly. “Minerva popped back to Hogwarts to check with Dumbledore that you could go to see him, and she’s just returned with a message.�

“What did he say?� said Ron.

“He wants Harry to go to see him tomorrow afternoon. Yes, just Harry,� she added as Ron, Ginny and Hermione opened their mouths in protest. “He says there are things they need to talk about in private.�

And she retreated into the kitchen.

“Fair enough,� said Ginny. “Don’t even tell us what you’re doing to Neville.�

“Neville will be fine,� said Hermione, though she looked a little anxious. “I’m more interested in what Dumbledore wants to say only to you, Harry.�

“‘The truth’, that’s what Aberforth said,� shrugged Harry. “Dumbledore always did like keeping secrets from me; maybe he’s regretting it now that that he’s dead.�

“Harry!�

“Well, it’s true,� said Harry mutinously. “It would’ve been a lot easier for both of us if he’d just told me the truth when I asked him in first year.�

“Yes, well, he chose not to and I think that should be good enough for all of us,� said Hermione firmly. “Come on, let’s get back upstairs,� she added, as the sound of raised voices and more groaning floated through the heavy wooden kitchen door into the hallway.

---

That day was doomed to be a bad one. Straight after lunch, Harry managed to see something he would certainly rather not have. Neville had been put to bed with Mrs Weasley’s assurance that “he’ll be back to normal when he wakes up,� and Harry found himself on his own, the others all having wandered off to do their own things.

After a while of lying on his bed doing nothing in particular, Harry decided to seek Hermione out. He’d been wanting to ask her for advice; Christmas was just three weeks away and he hadn’t given Ginny's present a thought. Harry reckoned that Hermione, having been one of Ginny’s closest friends for several years now, would have a better idea than he of what to get.

So he slid off the bed, focused on Hermione’s room, turned on the spot and Disapparated.

A second of compression, a moment of not being able to breathe, and then he landed right on top of something large, moving, and very much alive.

“AAGH!� Someone screamed in his left ear and Harry nearly fell over in shock, frantically fighting to untangle himself. To his ultimate horror, he stared at Ron and Hermione, who had been kissing passionately right in the centre of the room until Harry had landed on top of them.

He was speechless with shock and embarrassment. Hermione, whose face had flushed to the roots of her hair, gave him one mortified, half-angry look and stumbled out of the room, the door swinging wildly behind her.

Ron wiped his face self-consciously with his hand as he tried to avoid Harry’s gaze.

“Ron, I – I'm so sorry, I – I just wanted to ask Hermione –� Harry stumbled over the words as he tried to think of something to say. Perhaps that was why Dumbledore never Apparated directly into other people’s rooms, he thought grimly. He would never do it again, that was for sure.

“It's all right,� mumbled Ron, still looking everywhere but at Harry. “I guess you had to know sometime. But knock next time, okay?�

And leaving Harry standing there still red with embarrassment, Ron walked out of Hermione’s room and down the stairs.

But the excitement had not ended there. Barely two minutes after Ron left the room, a shriek sounded from below, followed by shouting and what sounded like sobbing. Alarmed, and his embarrassment forgotten, Harry clambered downstairs to the source of the noise. The commotion was coming from the lounge, where Ginny had been playing with her pet; a Pygmy Puff named Arnold that she was very fond of. Harry opened the door of the lounge to see Ginny in tears, Hermione trying to comfort her, and Ron with one hand clapped over his mouth.

“Ginny, are you all right?� said Harry in alarm, striding over.

“All right?� Ginny wailed. It was at that moment that Harry noticed the tiny ball of purple fur on the stone floor; an extremely flat ball of purple fur. Arnold the Pygmy Puff would scurry around no longer.

“Ron – Ron trod on him!�

And she burst into fresh floods of tears.

“Oh, right…� said Harry helplessly, as Ron collapsed into an armchair, aghast.

“It was an accident!� he said, guilt-stricken. “He’s so small I didn’t even notice him until – well…� he trailed off uncomfortably. “I can buy you another one, if you like.�

But Ginny refused to be comforted.

Harry went to bed that night with his head pounding. He hoped fervently that tomorrow would be nice and normal, and that the chat with Dumbledore wouldn’t be too deep or revealing. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

---

The next day dawned cold and clear, and as Harry stood in Hogsmeade, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, he sensed that winter was on its way. He set off at a brisk walk for Hogwarts, finding himself half wishing that there were no anti-Apparition spells laid on the school and the grounds – it would save his fingers, which were fast becoming numb in the chill wind.

Hagrid had been informed of his coming, and as Harry approached the Hogwarts gates, which were flanked with ancient stone boars, he saw the giant man striding towards him, each step covering six feet of frosty ground. A huge woman walked beside him, not an inch shorter – Madame Maxime, the Beauxbatons headmistress. Harry pulled off his Invisibility Cloak and grinned as they approached. Hagrid waved.

“Alrigh’, Harry?� he beamed as he reached the gate and inserted the great iron key into the lock.

“Hi, Hagrid,� said Harry, raising his voice over the rumbling sound coming from the gate. The lock was vibrating violently; a brilliant flash of white light streamed from the keyhole and the gates swung open.

“’Arry Potter,� said Madame Maxime majestically, extending a huge but feminine hand, covered in sparking opal rings. Harry shook it awkwardly – it was level with his head – then let out a feeble, “Oh!� as the giantess raised an eyebrow. He supposed he was meant to have kissed it.

Hagrid chuckled, then said, “Minerva says yer goin’ ter have a talk with Professor Dumbledore, Harry.�

“Yeah,� said Harry. “Apparently there’s some stuff he wants to tell me.�

“Abou’ – abou’ what yeh have ter do to get rid o’ Voldemort, I s’pose?� said Hagrid. Harry looked at Hagrid curiously. He seemed nervous and was twisting his heavy scarf in one massive hand.

“I suppose so,� said Harry. “I don’t know what else it could be.�

“Righ’. O’ course – well, I’ll jus’ let yeh get on with it, Harry. Join me an’ Olympe fer lunch afterwards, if yeh like.�

“Cheers,� said Harry with a smile, and he began to walk in the direction of the castle, donning his Invisibility Cloak as he went. Hagrid and Madame Maxime set off towards Hagrid’s wooden cabin.

“Good luck, Harry,� Hagrid shouted after him. He was still twisting his scarf anxiously, finally ripping it in half. Harry thought it was a strange thing to say, but he let the Cloak slip off one arm and raised it in a wave.

When Harry entered the school, he was surprised at how empty it felt. Normally there was a continual distant murmur of sound – pupils talking in classes, ghosts chatting in the corridors, teachers’ voices floating out of open classroom doors. There were people here – glancing into random classrooms, Harry saw them, heads bent over parchment, and teachers walking around the desks, checking work over shoulders. But there were certainly fewer pupils than before – evidently many had been kept at home by anxious parents – and the atmosphere was different: graver, sadder. He glanced into a sixth-year classroom and saw Luna Lovegood vaguely tickling her own nose with her quill, but her schoolmates were all concentrating on their work. Harry supposed that with the number of parents and, in some cases, fellow pupils, having gone missing or been killed, the school just could not be the cheerful, safe place it had always seemed.

Sadly, he turned a corner, took a shortcut behind a tapestry, and sped along to the Headmistress’s office.

“Witherwings,� he said quietly to the gargoyle who protected the entrance, and the ugly stone sculpture sprang to life, jumping to one side. Harry stepped onto the familiar revolving spiral staircase, and was carried up towards Dumbledore’s office.

When he reached the top, Harry hesitated at the door. He knew the room was empty, but he was going in for a meeting of a kind; should he knock on the door and wait for the portrait to bid him enter?

He settled for clearing his throat loudly to announce his presence, then took off his Cloak, stuffed it into his pocket, and pushed open the door. He looked at once behind McGonagall’s desk, and saw the portrait hanging there on the wall. The portrait smiled at Harry, and looked at him over the top of its painted half-moon spectacles.

“Afternoon, Professor,� said Harry awkwardly, hovering at the door.

“Good afternoon, Harry!� beamed Dumbledore from the wall. “I hope you are well?�

“Yes, sir,� said Harry, wondering whether it would be pointless to ask the same question of his Headmaster; this was, after all, only a portrait of him.

The painted Dumbledore smiled as though he guessed Harry’s thoughts.

“I am remarkably well, you know. Being a portrait is very restful, even if the view is rather unchanging. Do take a seat, my boy.�

Harry sat, and for a moment there was silence between them.

“Is there anything you would like to say to me, Harry?� said Dumbledore finally, surveying Harry carefully with his bright blue eyes.

“I don’t know where to start,� Harry admitted.

“Perhaps we should start with the night of my death,� suggested Dumbledore cheerfully. “A good, meaty topic to start with.�

“There’s not much to say about that, is there, sir?�

“Why ever not?� Dumbledore’s eyebrows were raised.

“Well,� said Harry slowly, “you were wrong, weren’t you? After all you said…Snape was on the Dark side. And now he’s gone…that’s all there is to it.�

“Ah,� said Dumbledore apologetically. “I thought we might disagree on this point.�

Harry looked up disbelievingly. “Sir?�

“I am afraid, Harry, that I continue to trust Severus despite his actions last summer.�

“Despite his actions,� repeated Harry incredulously, standing up. “Professor – he murdered you! Surely you can’t still say –�

“We continue to argue after one of us is dead,� interrupted Dumbledore, looking amused. “Harry, sit down. You must trust me; Severus is not to be blamed for what he did. He is misunderstood by the entire wizarding world. The Dark side believe he has proved himself a true Death Eater, and the side which you are on Harry, and which he is on too despite all the evidence against him, are convinced that I was wrong and he is Voldemort’s right-hand man after all. Even Minerva believes this still, though I have attempted to explain the truth to her. She does not agree. You must agree, Harry, or an innocent man will suffer unfairly.�

Harry just looked at Dumbledore in utmost disbelief. He could not understand how the old Headmaster could be so stubborn.

“Right,� he said, sitting back in the chair. “So Snape is innocent. Can you prove it?�

Harry expected Dumbledore to refuse; he had asked this question too many times to count, and Dumbledore had never given a satisfactory answer. But this time, he was amazed to hear the old man whisper, in a low, tired voice, “Yes.�

Harry sat up straighter. “You can?� he asked skeptically. “You can really prove that when Snape murdered you, it wasn’t really him but, oh, Bellatrix under Polyjuice Potion?� The sarcasm slipped out almost accidentally, and he wished he hadn’t said it, but Dumbledore merely smiled.

“No, it was Severus. But I am afraid that you do not know the whole truth.�

“So even after you said last year that you’d told me everything, you hadn’t,� Harry said flatly. He wasn’t too surprised.

“I wished to spare you a little more unnecessary pain, Harry, but when Severus’ life hangs in the balance….�

Snape’s life meant very little to Harry, but he conceded. “Okay. So what proof do you have?�

“You know where my Pensieve is, Harry – bring it here.�

Surprised but curious, Harry went over to the cupboard where the Pensieve was kept, lifted the heavy stone basin in both hands, and placed it on the desk. Dumbledore was watching Harry with an odd expression, almost pitying, on his face.

“I had hoped for you never to see this, Harry – will you not just take my word?�

Harry paused uncomfortably, but his curiosity was aroused now, and he knew he would not be able to leave the office until he had seen whatever memory Dumbledore had kept from him for so long.

“The Pensieve will take you to the correct memory,� said Dumbledore softly, seeing Harry’s silent refusal. “It has a peculiar way of knowing these things.�

Harry nodded.

“And try to remember, Harry…forgiveness is a very great thing.�

With these final, quiet words whispered from the wall, Harry breathed in deeply, readying himself, then plunged his face into the swirling silvery contents of the bowl. At once he was pitched forward out of the office and fell down through apparently endless dark. After a few seconds, his feet hit the ground with a jolt, and Harry discovered that he had landed in an empty corridor – he was at Hogwarts. The ghost of Nearly Headless Nick drifted past, unaware of Harry’s presence, for of course, he was not really there at all.

The corridor was not empty, as Harry had thought; just seconds after he landed, footsteps sounded from around the corner and Dumbledore appeared, the younger, auburn-haired man that Harry had become accustomed to seeing in various memories in the Pensieve. Dumbledore swept past, humming quietly to himself, and Harry immediately followed in his wake.

For nearly five minutes Harry trotted along behind, wondering when something was going to happen, when suddenly, angry shouts and a girl’s horrified screaming sounded from below. Dumbledore stopped abruptly, locating the source of the noise, then rapped sharply on the wall beside him with one long-fingered hand. A passage appeared from nowhere and Dumbledore strode down it, emerging into a scene of utter chaos. Harry joined him, panting, and what he saw made his heart give a huge leap.

James Potter – he looked to be in about sixth year – was standing there, wand drawn and furious, the prone, bleeding figure of Severus Snape lying at his feet. But what shocked Harry most of all was that his dad was crying – actually crying – and it seemed the young, long-haired Sirius next to him was as amazed as he.

“You beast!�

Harry tore his eyes from his father’s face to see the sixteen-year-old Lily Evans knelt, shaking, beside Snape, green eyes filled with pure hatred and her gaze directly on James. Harry would never have believed someone could look so angry. A large crowd of students had gathered to watch the fun, but Dumbledore remained hidden in the shadow of the secret passage, observing silently with knitted brows.

“What makes you think you had the right to do this?� hissed Lily, standing up to face James. “Why can’t you ever leave him alone?�

“Lily –� James rubbed the sleeve of his robe across his eyes, evidently half-aware of all the wide-eyed students around him. But he did not defend himself. “Why did you do it? How could you?� he mumbled half-coherently, looking distraught. “I never thought –�

“Why did I do it?� repeated Lily incredulously. “I have perfect right to do – what I was doing!� she said, glancing in embarrassment around her, and a few students laughed and wolf-whistled. “Are you not ashamed of what you’ve done?� And she gestured at Snape, who was still unconscious on the floor. His nose was very obviously broken, but as much blood streamed out from the great gash across his face as from his nostrils. Lily bent down, trying to staunch the flow with a muttered charm.

“Well, I reckon you did a good job there, Potter!� yelled a tall, dark-skinned boy from the middle of the crowd. “He had it coming to him!� The cry was backed up by laughs and cheers. Snape was evidently not too popular with his peers. Only a few people – probably Slytherins – looked less than amused.

“Get lost, you lot,� snapped Lily angrily, her red hair swinging over her shoulder. “Potter, I’ll thank you to stop interfering in my private life, and if you think you can ever make me want to go out with you, you are even less intelligent than you look.�

James looked stung as a ripple of laughter spread down the corridor, and was evidently struggling to think up a response. Harry was feeling completely lost. What on earth had his mother done to cause James to hurt Snape so badly?

Dumbledore chose this moment to step out of the passage.

“Miss Evans, Mr Potter,� he said in a clear, deep voice, and the rumble of students’ chatter died down. “I think Severus is in need of Madam Pomfrey’s aid. If someone would go and fetch her…? Thank you, Miss Fairling. Now, you two – I will see you in my office in exactly five minutes.�

With that, Dumbledore turned around, sweeping down the path the students cleared for him and left the scene. Harry stayed with his parents, who were still glaring at each other.

“Come on, James.� After a while, a thin boy with brown hair – the teenage Remus Lupin – emerged, unsmiling, from the crowd and put his hand on James’ shoulder, steering him forward. “Let’s go.�

“Don’t worry, Prongs, he deserved what he got,� muttered Sirius, clapping James’ back and starting to walk towards Dumbledore’s office. “But I think you might’ve been a bit tactless, mate, with Evans and all that, you know….�

James followed Lupin and Sirius as though in a daze. Harry noticed Peter Pettigrew slipping out of the crowd to join them, wide-eyed. Lily waited until the hurrying form of Madam Pomfrey appeared at the end of the corridor, then she too left in silence, students moving back to let her through as they had for Dumbledore.

Five minutes later, Harry was back in Dumbledore’s office, this time in the company of his parents. Dumbledore was seated behind his desk as usual, his slender fingertips touching and the bright-blue gaze Harry knew so well fixed, for once, not on him but on his father. James half-heartedly tried to stare Dumbledore down, but after a second his gaze dropped to the floor.

Dumbledore’s face was very sombre as he spoke. “Perhaps you, Mr Potter, would like to explain to me first exactly what happened before I arrived on the scene just now. It appears I missed the excitement.�

James took a breath and began to speak, but then stopped, biting his lip and shaking his head silently.

Lily’s green eyes were still full of angry fire, and now she said with a quiet fierceness, “Professor, James attacked Severus for no good reason! Just because I – I was with him in the corridor.�

“Indeed,� said Dumbledore softly. “And was this any incentive for James to perform such violent magic on a fellow student?�

“They weren’t just together.� James’ voice was so low Harry could hardly hear him. “They – they –�

Lily looked at James, with one eyebrow raised.

“They were kissing!� James finally burst out, his voice shaking uncontrollably.

The room fell utterly silent. Harry stared at his father’s anguished face, stunned, and in that moment he knew that it must be true. Horrified, rigid with shock and unseen by everyone in the room, Harry collapsed into a small chair. One look at his mother’s expression confirmed everything. Harry, his mind screaming denial, could not tear his gaze from her face. His mum…his mum and Snape…. With these words playing over and over in his brain, Harry barely heard Dumbledore’s next words, which were quiet, calm and firm.

“James, you would do well to remember that the lives of others are never, or should never be under our control ... Severus was well within his rights. I shall expect you to go now to the hospital wing and give the poor boy a full apology when he wakes for the grievous damage you did to him. I think a detention is also in order.�

James’ mouth twisted at this; Harry guessed the detention meant very little to him, but the apology was a bitter pill to swallow.

“Miss Evans, you have done nothing reprehensible – you may return to your classes….�

Harry felt the chair beneath him dissolve into nothingness, as without warning the room went black. He dropped through emptiness until light and colour returned, and he found himself in a very different memory. A glance around him showed Harry at once that he was in the staff room at Hogwarts, which was full of teachers, some whom Harry did not recognise. Outside the window, the sky was cloudless, darkening, and studded with very faint stars; it was twilight. Dumbledore was seated comfortably in a high-backed armchair, sipping tea and listening to the conversation of those around him.

The peace was shattered by the slam of a door right behind Harry. Unprepared, he jumped and turned to see the adult Snape standing there, his normally collected, expressionless face more agitated than Harry had ever seen.

“Headmaster!�

“Severus, whatever is the matter? You have come to report?� Dumbledore rose from the chair to face Snape, his blue eyes searching and alert.

“I have made a terrible mistake, Headmaster, there is very little time –� Snape was breathless, distraught, and Dumbledore held up a hand to silence him.

“Please excuse us,� he said, addressing the other teachers. “We need a little privacy.�

And Dumbledore swept out of the staffroom, motioning Snape to follow. Harry slipped hastily out of the door behind them. Dumbledore strode to the Entrance Hall, opened the front doors, and stepped out into the grounds. Harry followed them, looking at Snape with a quiet, boiling anger. To think this man had ever dared go out with his mother…the first shock of the revelation over, Harry did not feel any more disposed to regard Snape as innocent.

“What has happened, Severus?� said Dumbledore calmly once the great doors closed behind them.

“The Secret-Keeper has betrayed the whereabouts of the Potters.�

Dumbledore stopped walking and stared at Snape’s shadowed face. “You have proof of this?�

“The Dark Lord informed us hardly less than a quarter-hour ago. He has ordered an attack in Godric’s Hollow tonight.�

There was a silence, in which Snape twisted his fingers together in agitation. Then Dumbledore spoke.

“You did well to come so quickly…but such treachery...� His voice was low and sad. “When friends turn on friends, the darkness has truly begun to prevail….�

“Headmaster, there is more.� Snape spoke with a desperate, agonised urgency. “Till tonight I did not know the consequences of my actions, but the prophecy –�

“I know that you overheard Sybill Trelawney that night at the Hog’s Head last year.�

“It was I – before I left the Dark Lord’s service for yours, I told him what I had heard, but I did not know whom the prophecy concerned. If I had realised it was Lily – Headmaster, you know – you remember my schooldays, I would never have wished her any harm, and now, if anything happens, I am to blame –�

“Severus, listen to me,� said Dumbledore sharply. “Now is not the time for remorse. We must act, and with haste.�

Snape inclined his head. “I will do anything, Headmaster, to reverse what I have done. Give me your orders.�

Harry had been watching Snape closely through this exchange and now found himself confused, doubtful. Snape’s repentance and anguish seemed genuine, but Harry knew all too well how good an actor he was. As he stared at his old Potions Master, his mind torn with uncertainty, darkness descended around him like a mist, and Harry fell through nothingness into yet another time and place.

Around him was dust, rubble, and torn furniture – the ruins of a small house. Dread crept into Harry’s stomach, and as he gazed around, seeing the nearby woods and the smashed baby’s cot lying amongst the broken stone, he realised that this must have been his parents’ house, his house, just after it was destroyed. He looked at the patterned wallpaper still clinging bravely to a half-standing wall and felt sick.

A small sound, like crumbling brick, came from behind him and Harry turned to see Dumbledore once again, this time standing gravely amid the ruins, the edges of his long white hair and beard glowing gold in the early morning sun. Sitting on a chunk of smashed stone at his feet was Severus Snape, his face gaunt and drawn.

“I suspected you might be here, Severus. However, it would not be wise to stay overlong; before long, the Muggle police will come to investigate.� When Snape made no answers, Dumbledore said quietly, “You must not judge yourself too harshly, Severus. Time was against us last night.�

Snape remained silent for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was cracked and harsh. “I am not sorry that Potter is dead.� Unseen and unheard, Harry swore at him.

But Dumbledore only sighed heavily, and did not speak.

“What happened to the boy?�

“Harry has been taken into the care of relatives. He will be safe there, if nothing else.�

Snape looked up at this, his greasy curtains of dark hair falling back to show his hooked nose in sharp relief against the lightening sky. He said slowly, “What does he look like?�

“Harry? He is a mere infant; however, he has black hair and already is beginning to bear a resemblance to James.�

“I had expected him to have red hair.�

“He is James’ son, too, Severus. But he has Lily’s eyes.�

Snape stood up abruptly. “I am leaving, Headmaster.�

“Well, I did not expect you to remain sitting on that cold block of stone any longer than necessary. It does look rather uncomfortable.�

Snape brushed down the front of his robes impatiently. “No, Headmaster, I am leaving the country. I have done too much damage; to stay here is to create more evil. I must leave; if not to do any good, at least to do no more harm….�

Dumbledore surveyed Snape from under his bushy eyebrows, but only waited in silence. When Snape spoke again his voice was very low, so that Harry had to strain to hear his next words.

“She died because of me.�

“You did not raise up your wand against her, Severus, you did not speak the words of the Killing Curse! Yes, you did wrong, but you can make up for it; to flee the country in self-pity is not the way.�

“There is nothing else I can do.�

“Yes, there is,� said Dumbledore simply. “Lily and James’ deaths do not mean that your job as Potions Master has evaporated. I need a teacher, and you are a remarkable hand at Potions.�

“Teaching….� said Snape slowly. “I hate students, did you know that?�

“Hate is not a word to be used lightly, Severus.�

“Very well; I merely despise them. But you are the one man who has stood beside me all this time, Headmaster, and if that is your wish, I will obey. I will Vow.�

Dumbledore met his gaze. “Is that really necessary?�

“Now I am without aim, without direction; once I saw power on the side of evil, but Lily’s death, and my responsibility for it…� Snape seemed to be speaking his thoughts aloud.

“You alone have trusted me, Headmaster, despite what I have done. I am not well practised at trusting people, but perhaps you can teach me. I swear obedience to you, for as long as we both live.� And he extended his claw-like hand. Dumbledore was slow to take it.

“Severus, do you realise what such a Vow could lead to? I am a complicated, silly old man, and I do not always choose the right course. Sometimes trying to be too clever backfires rather nastily; I am not sure you would wish to obey my every whim. It would grow tiresome.�

“I am sure. Lily should have lived to see her son grow up. I will teach other children my skills, if you so wish, and Harry too, when he comes to Hogwarts. I offer you my service; this is merely a binding oath. For my sake as much as yours.�

And, very slowly, Dumbledore raised his arm and grasped Snape’s hand in his. “So be it.� He lifted his wand in his other hand, and placed it on their clasped fingers. “Severus Snape, do you vow to obey me, Albus Dumbledore, in every duty I ask of you?�

“I do.� A thin rope of flame streamed from the wandtip and entwined itself around their hands.

“And do you promise never to depart again from the side of good, and never to seek power or shelter in dark magic and old habits?�

Snape met Dumbledore’s eyes, as Harry stood watching, his doubts about Snape slowly and reluctantly, but surely, fading away. If Snape agreed to this one…what was it Ron had said about Unbreakable Vows? For surely this was one of them. Harry’s own words came back to him; “So what happens if you break one, then?� and Ron’s simple answer; “You die.�

Snape spoke. “I do.�

Harry stared at him in that early morning light, and felt the beliefs he had clung to for so many years come crumbling down.

Another tongue of flame shot out from the binding wand, curling about the wrists and hands of the two men in a dancing, fiery rope.

Dumbledore spoke just once more.

“Thank you, Severus.�

The memory dissolved, Harry descended into the familiar blackness and landed, staggering, in Dumbledore’s office – in the present time, he was glad to see.

The portrait of Dumbledore looked at Harry sadly.

“I am sorry you had to see those memories, Harry.�

Harry had to pause a while to collect his thoughts, which were flying all over the place. He was not used to such intense sessions of truth-revealing. Dumbledore waited in silence, as did all the other dozens of headmasters and mistresses who were watching him from their frames with avid curiosity.

After a while, Harry said slowly, “It cleared things up a lot, I suppose. Him and my mum, I mean. And I apologise – you were right about Snape all along. Because he would be dead now, wouldn’t he, if he had broken the Vow never to go back to the Dark side?�

The Dumbledore in the frame bowed his head in agreement. “He would. And Harry, Lily did not go out with Severus for very long; in fact, as I recall, the incident where James broke his nose and knocked him unconscious in his anger took place at the end of their sixth year. James and Lily, though none of us teachers expected it, became a couple sometime in the early stages of their final year at Hogwarts.�

Harry nodded. The thought of his mother and Snape ever having kissed still grossed him out a lot, but he tried his best to push it out of his mind for now.

"But I still don't see," said Harry slowly, "why he had to kill you..."

Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon glasses upon his nose, and spoke again. "Well, now, that is a complex matter, rather unfortunate really...you see, I had ordered him to return to spy on the Death Eaters, and to keep his cover no matter what. But I did not foresee what would come of this... Severus came to me barely a week before last school year commenced, bearning the news that he had had an encounter with Narcissa Malfoy, who asked him to make another Unbreakable Vow, a Vow to protect Draco Malfoy."

Harry followed this as best he could. "So he had to agree to keep up the pretence that he was a true Death Eater?"

Dumbledore nodded. "To refuse would have shown his reluctance to commit to the Dark side, and in the eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange, who was present, would have proved his loyalty to me. Torn by his own wishes and my orders to remain undercover, Severus had to Vow to kill me should Draco not succeed."

"Couldn't you have ordered him never to kill you?" said Harry. "He would have had to obey, because of the first Vow."

"That would have resulted in his inability to act under the terms of the second Vow. He would have died."

"Better him than you," muttered Harry mutinously.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Harry, Severus asked me to do just that: order him not to kill me. I refused, for who am I to decide that my life is worth more than his? No, I ordered him to keep his cover, to stay obedient to the Vow he made with Narcissa and yes, to kill me when the time came."

Harry was speechless.

"It was better that way, though Severus wanted it even less than I. He grew angry with me, tried to force me to let him him off the hook. Once again, I refused. You saw his expression when he raised his wand to utter the Killing Curse, Harry...I am afraid he remained angry with me up till the very end. However, he evidently realised that refusing to kill me there would have resulted in not only his death but mine too. I was rather defenceless, I must say.

“And now that we have cleared that up, Harry,� said Dumbledore in a voice that clearly showed that the subject was closed, “it is time to move on to perhaps more pressing matters. As a mere picture on a wall I cannot help you much, but I would like you to tell me everything – every single thing – that you have discovered so far regarding those three remaining Horcruxes."

---

Please review!

"So, basically," concluded Harry, "the locket’s safe at Grimmauld, we’re pretty sure the opal necklace is a Horcrux, and, er – we have no idea about Hufflepuff’s cup."

In the portrait, Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "That is good, Harry, very good indeed. You have done well. And now," he added, smiling from under his white moustache, "It is my turn to contribute to our quest. I have had much time to think while stuck on this wall, and I have several ideas, though some will, of course, be wrong...." He paused, running one long-fingered hand through his silvery beard.

"We hoped you could tell us what you did with the necklace, sir," Harry ventured. He was glad when Dumbledore nodded again.

"Oh, yes, if the necklace is a Horcrux – and it certainly does seem possible, even probable – then retrieving it should not present too much of a problem. No, I was wondering what you would say if I told you my suspicions concerning the whereabouts of Hufflepuff’s cup."

"You think you know where it is, sir?" Harry leaned forward at once, all ears.

"I have a notion that it may be closer than you think," said Dumbledore. "It may just be the whim of a silly old man, but Harry, I do believe that the cup is hidden within this very castle."

There was a small silence.

"In – in Hogwarts, sir?" Harry looked at the picture of his old Headmaster doubtfully.

"That’s the one," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "And can you not guess where in the castle?"

"Er – "

"Why, the place where he fulfilled his childhood dreams of power, where he learned to kill, the place where he proved to himself that he was more than a Riddle, of course."

And Harry realised. "The Chamber of Secrets!"

Dumbledore smiled. "Very good again. To Riddle, the Chamber would have been more than a slimy dark cavern filled with rat bones; it was the place where he gloried in the knowledge of his Slytherin heritage, and learned that he could make the mightiest of snakes, the Basilisk, do his bidding. What better place to hide a portion of his soul than a Chamber to which even the greatest wizards did not have access, that he alone could open? And you, Harry, because of the power he transferred to you when he gave you that scar."

Harry shivered. The thought that he had a little bit of Voldemort in him, however unconnected from his own soul, still made him uncomfortable. Dumbledore continued placidly.

"The Basilisk, of course, would have been a perfect guardian for a Horcrux. While the snake was alive, no sensible wizard would venture into the deeps to regain a mere cup. Most would not even have dared to face it to retrieve a young girl, especially when armed only with a Hat, a sword, a bird, and two years’ worth of magical education."

Harry looked up. Dumbledore was smiling. Then the headmaster continued briskly.

"I suggest you investigate the Chamber again, Harry, and in the meantime you could set about regaining the necklace. It should not be too difficult for a master like you."

Harry waited for more information, but none seemed forthcoming. "Um, right,� he said, not wanting to seem rude. “So – so where is it, sir?"

Dumbledore looked apologetic. "Ah, yes. Well, Harry, I regret to say that in my reluctance to keep it in my office, and also to destroy it in case any cursed shards of opal fell into innocent hands, I put the necklace somewhere rather difficult to access. I cast it into the depths of the Hogwarts lake."

"The lake?" said Harry, horrified. "But how’re we ever supposed to find it in there? It’d be like the whole Triwizard thing again!"

"Exactly right," said Dumbledore serenely. "And as I said, it should be no problem to such a master as you. Good luck."
Harry stared dumbly at his old headmaster. "But – "
Dumbledore merely smiled again, and bowed his head. Harry understood himself to be dismissed and so, still trying to work out whatever Dumbledore could mean, he rose reluctantly, walked to the door and exited the room.

I cast it into the depths of the Hogwarts lake. Dumbledore’s words played over and over in Harry’s mind as he walked through the castle towards the Entrance Hall, and the more he thought about it, the more mystified Harry became. What did Dumbledore mean, he was a master? Did his former headmaster expect him to steal some more Gillyweed and dive into the lake to search, as he had done in his fourth year? But the lake was huge; covering a good fifth of the Hogwarts grounds; it was even difficult to define objects on the other side – finding a tiny necklace in its watery depths could take days, even weeks. Walking along, frowning, Harry was not even aware of the light footsteps sounding behind him, until a dreamy voice spoke in his ear.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry spun around, and found himself face to face with Luna Lovegood.

"Luna! How’re you doing?" Harry spoke automatically, while looking round in alarm for other students; though he was rather pleased to see Luna again, he realised that he had forgotten to put his Invisibility Cloak back on after leaving the office.

"I heard you were looking for Voldemort," said Luna almost absentmindedly; her gaze was fixed vaguely on a point somewhere behind Harry’s left ear. "Is it fun?"

Harry was taken aback. "Fun?" he repeated.

"It must be rather exciting, really," said Luna dreamily. "Rather like looking for a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, in a way."

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Um, Luna, I’m sorry but I’d better be going – " The corridors were still deserted, and Harry guessed that most of the other students were eating dinner in the Great Hall; nevertheless, he was not keen on the idea of meeting Filch or even being glimpsed by a portrait – the news would spread round the school like wildfire.

"Oh, okay," said Luna wistfully. "So you didn’t come back to Hogwarts to stay, then…I hoped you had. You were one of the people who used to talk to me."

As he looked at the slightly eccentric-looking girl in front of him, Harry felt distinctly guilty. "Are – are you lonely here, Luna?"

"Oh, only sometimes," said Luna. "I have a friend now, see." And she plunged her hand into the pocket of her robes, bringing out a plump white mouse, whose shower of whiskers twitched wildly as it stared at Harry.

"Her name is Mildew. Daddy gave her to me." The mouse blinked at him.

Before Harry could comment, there was the sudden sound of clattering footsteps and what seemed like several dozen first and second years came bursting round the corner. Harry stepped backwards in a sudden panic, and the students in the first wave nearly fell over as they stopped dead, staring at him, and were walked into by those behind them.

"It’s Harry Potter!"

"What? Why’s he here?"

"Hey – hey, Harry! Is it true you’re destined to fight You-Know-Who?"

"It’s Harry Potter!"

Harry swore under his breath, said rather stupidly to the general public, "No, it’s not!� and before the crowd of students could say another word, he had fled round a corner, thrown the Invisibility Cloak over his shoulders and flattened himself against a wall.

"Where’d he go?"

"Was that really him?"

"Whoa – I’ve actually seen Harry Potter!"

Good for you, Harry thought grimly as he let the young students wander unsuspectingly past him. When they had gone, Harry didn’t dare take off his Cloak in case another lot came along, but he moved back over to Luna, who was standing rather forlornly in the corridor, stroking Mildew’s head, and said quietly to her, "Bye, Luna. I’ll see you around."

"Bye, Harry," said Luna. "Good luck, and have fun." And she moved off, without a backward glance, her radish earrings swinging as she turned a corner. Harry watched her go, still feeling sorry for her, but when she had disappeared from sight he knew he had to get on. So Harry crept cautiously along the corridors, taking care not to trip or sneeze when he was near anybody. As he saw Horace Slughorn striding purposefully towards the Great Hall and, presumably, his dinner, Harry made up his mind on the spur of the moment.

Swiftly and silently he sped down to the dungeons, along the long, dingy corridor, and into Slughorn’s office. The door of an adjoining room was slightly open; Harry looked inside and found what he had been hoping for – the Potion Master’s private stores. He pushed aside boxes of dragon fangs, Demiguise toenails and sinister-looking dried tentacles before he found it: a large jar of Gillyweed. Harry grabbed a couple of handfuls of the slimy plant, feeling distinctly guilty as he did so, stuffed them into his pocket, and made to exit the store cupboard. A noise outside made him stop dead.

“Horace? Is that you? I brought you the Windleweed you wanted – oh.� Professor Sprout had pulled the door of the cupboard open wide, and Harry held his breath as she squinted into the small room. In her hand was a large basket of long, dark-green reeds, which were squirming slightly. The surprised professor pushed her flyaway hair back over one ear with an earth-covered finger, still looking into the store cupboard in confusion.

“I could’ve sworn I heard – oh, well I’ll just leave them here for him to find when he gets back,� she muttered to herself, laying the basket on the desk. She left the room without looking back, and Harry breathed again. As soon as he thought it safe, Harry followed her, taking care to leave the cupboard door slightly ajar, as he had found it. He reached the Entrance Hall without further incident, but was sorry to hear whispers everywhere, already, that Harry Potter had been seen in Hogwarts, and had been conversing alone with “that Loony Lovegood�.

Harry waited until the Entrance Hall was completely clear of students, ghosts and teachers, then slipped out of the front doors and into the grounds, which, in the late afternoon, were illuminated by the weak winter sun. As he approached the lake, Harry was more than a little surprised to see three familiar figures standing at the water’s edge, peering in the direction of the castle.

Harry sped over as quickly as possible, skirted them swiftly and silently, stopping only once when he thought he heard the crack of a twig in the trees beside the lake. But he could see nobody, and telling himself that he was being paranoid, Harry turned away from the Forbidden Forest. Ron, Hermione and Ginny seemed to have noticed the front doors open and close by themselves, and were staring in that general direction, but they were completely unprepared when Harry sneaked up behind them and let loose a Tickling Charm.

“Rictusempra!� Hermione and Ginny shrieked and began to laugh uncontrollably as the Charm hit them. Ron yelled, “Oi! Cut that out!� between great gasping chuckles, as Harry took off his Cloak with a flourish and grinned.

Harry stopped the spell with a quick “Finite!� then raised his eyebrows as his three friends straightened up, panting.

“Boy, those Death Eaters won’t even need Unforgivable Curses for you lot…they could just use a Tickling Charm and you’d all collapse,� he joked. “What are you doing here, anyway?� he added.

“Oh, this crabby old guy in a portrait in your room came and told us that we were supposed to meet you here,� said Ginny, regaining her composure and shrugging.

“That would be Phineas,� said Harry. “Sirius’ great-great-grandfather. He’s got another portrait in Dumbledore’s office, and he can move between the two.�

Ginny nodded. “Yeah, that was him. Anyway, he said it was Dumbledore’s orders. What did Dumbledore want to talk to you about, anyway?�

Harry hesitated. He didn’t feel inclined to share the news about his mother and Snape’s brief relationship; it was still too new and shocking to him, and he was uncertain how they would react. “He – wanted to tell me about the Horcruxes,� he said finally, and told them Dumbledore’s theory about Hufflepuff’s cup being concealed in the Chamber.

Hermione and Ron both looked excited and relieved upon hearing of the possible close proximity of the Horcrux, on which they had had no leads before now, but Ginny merely bit her lip.

“So – we’ll have to go back in there to get it?� she said quietly. She attempted to sound casual, but a tremor ran through her words nevertheless. Harry shook his head.
“Not you,� he said firmly. “It should be an easy matter with the Basilisk gone, and no one expects you to have to face going in there again, so don’t worry.�

Ginny looked slightly embarrassed, as though she thought she was being babied, but she did not press the matter. It was obvious that her experiences down in the Chamber with Tom Riddle still stood out with horrible clarity in her mind. After a second, she spoke again.

“This Phineas – he said we had important business to do at the lake?�

“Yes, we do,� said Harry in a low voice, checking that they really were alone before continuing. “That’s the other thing I talked to Dumbledore about. The necklace is in there.�

“What, the opal necklace? The Horcrux?� said Ron, looking bewildered. “What’s it doing in the lake?�

“Dumbledore didn’t realise it was a Horcrux – he chucked it in there to stop it harming anyone again,� said Harry over his shoulder, whist fumbling in the inner pocket of his robes for the Gillyweed. Ginny gazed out at the glassy lake, not a ripple disturbing its icy smooth surface, as Harry pulled the Gillyweed, slimy and rubbery as rat-tails, out of his pocket. He turned to Ron and Hermione.

“I’m going to have to go in and search for it,� he said.

“What?� said Hermione, looking both surprised and alarmed.

“It’s okay,� said Harry hastily. “This is Gillyweed, Ron – that’s what I used to get down to rescue you last time. And there’s no point in all of us going in, there’s not enough of it for four anyway,� he added as Hermione opened her mouth again in protest.

“It’s okay,� he repeated before either of them could say a word. “It’s better if I go alone, I’ve done it before.�

“Harry –� said Hermione, looking at him as though he’d gone crazy, but Harry shook his head.

“I told you, it’s fine. I’ll be back in an hour; if I haven’t found it by then, I’ll go back down. Don’t worry about me,� he repeated, and he crammed a handful of Gillyweed into his mouth.

“Harry,� said Hermione, in exasperation. Harry attempted to look reassuring, which was difficult with his mouth stuffed full of foul-tasting vegetation, but Hermione threw up her arms impatiently. “Harry, if you’d let me get a word in, perhaps I could tell you just how much easier it would be to use a simple Summoning Charm?�

Harry stopped chewing and gazed at her. Ron snorted, and Harry spat the entire mess of half-chewed Gillyweed onto the grass.

“Finally,� said Hermione.

Ginny was grinning, and Harry put his forehead against the trunk of a nearby beech tree, feeling like a complete idiot. Why had he not thought to summon the Horcrux, instead of preparing to dive in and look for it as though he had never heard of a wand?

“Okay, I admit it,� he finally announced to the tree. “I was trying to be noble, because I didn’t want to put you lot in danger again, and yes, I will try to stop doing that.� He turned around. “Okay, right…a Summoning Charm. Should be fun. Let’s just hope it’s strong enough to find the Horcrux in there; that lake’s pretty deep.�

The three of them moved far back to give Harry breathing space to perform the charm. When he was ready, Harry took a deep breath, raised his wand, and said clearly into the crisp, cold air, “Accio necklace!�

For a few seconds nothing happened. Harry continued to concentrate all his brainpower on the glittering purple jewels, the “string of death� as Regulus Black had so aptly named it. Then a sudden tremor shook the middle of the lake, and a tiny ripple shuddered across the water. The ripple swelled rapidly, and within seconds a whirlpool began to form. It grew larger and faster until it seemed the lake was being sucked inwards by a huge force. The powerful mass of gleaming green water twisted and surged downwards, deeper and blacker in its very heart, until suddenly, from the very centre, a tiny object came flying out; an object which flashed purple in the pale sunlight. Harry’s heart leapt, and as the dripping opal necklace came hurtling towards him, he unthinkingly dropped his wand and put out both hands to catch it.

“Harry, NO!� Hermione and Ginny screamed together in horrified panic, both tearing towards him, but Ron got there first. Before the necklace had reached its target, Ron threw himself bodily at Harry, and knocked him over, out of its path. With a small wet plop, the cursed Horcrux landed harmlessly in the soft mud by the side of the lake. Slowly, the swirling waters calmed and grew still, until they were as glassy smooth as before. Harry lay panting on the muddy grass with Ron sprawled on top of him. Neither of them spoke for a few seconds, then Harry, still shocked at the stupidity of what he had been about to do, croaked, “Ron…thanks for that.�

The words seemed inadequate but Ron merely grunted, “No problem. Just, uh, just don’t try that again, okay?� Painfully, they untangled themselves and stood up. Harry, straightened his glasses, still feeling slightly dazed by the enormity of what he had nearly done, though judging from Hermione and Ginny’s white faces, they had been utterly terrified.

“Sorry about that,� said Harry, then tried to restore some normalcy to the situation. “Right. We should probably get on. Um, Hagrid did invite me for tea after I went to see Dumbledore, but I wasn’t expecting to have got this.� He gestured at the necklace, which gleamed evilly from its position in the mud. “We should get it back to Grimmauld as soon as possible. Hagrid will understand.�

There was a pause while the others digested this, then Hermione agreed. “Yes – we’d better not let it out of our sight until it’s destroyed, and we need to sort out the locket soon, too. Lupin came back to Grimmauld while you were with Dumbledore’s portrait, Harry, so we can ask him for help when we get back.�

“Cool,� said Ron, and Ginny nodded slowly in agreement, still looking slightly pale with shock.

“Let’s get going, then,� said Harry. He pulled off his scarf and knelt beside the necklace. Remembering vividly the last time he had done this, with Hagrid pounding off towards the castle holding a screaming Katie Bell in his arms, Harry carefully wrapped the Horcrux in the scarf until it was completely covered. Hermione put a simple Binding Charm on the scarf to stop it unwinding, and they set off towards Hogsmeade to Apparate back home, the covered-up Horcrux tucked tightly under Harry’s arm.

Not one of them noticed when, barely a minute after they had left the lakeside, a tall figure emerged silently from the trees where Harry had earlier heard the sound of a snapping twig. The figure stood peering after their retreating backs, then stealthily followed, taking extreme care to remain well out of sight.

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The icy wind nipped at Harry’s fingers as they turned the corner into Hogsmeade station, and the four of them drew their cloaks more tightly round their shoulders, shivering.

“Fancy a Butterbeer?� Ron’s teeth were chattering.

The Three Broomsticks did look welcoming, its clean windows filled with soft light from inside, and though the Horcrux weighed heavily under his arm, Harry weakened.

“Just a quick one,� he nodded.

The pub was surprisingly full; perhaps with Christmas so soon upon them, the need to go shopping was more pressing than fear of the Death Eaters. Eager to avoid notice, Harry chose a table away from the main bulk of the crowd, while Ron went to fetch drinks. Hermione and Ginny slipped gratefully into their chairs. Slipping the scarf-covered Horcrux carefully under his cloak, Harry breathed in the warm, Butterbeer-scented air, and relaxed in his chair as he listened to two old witches discussing their Christmas purchases.

“Give me a hand, won’t you?� Ron was back, carrying four foaming tankards of hot Butterbeer and balancing a large plate of golden-brown sugar-buns with extreme difficulty. Harry took his tankard and warmed his fingers on it, revelling in the sensation of warmth coming back to his frozen hands.

“Thought these things looked good,� said Ron, nodding at the plate of buns as he slid into his seat. “There were these big muffins, too, with some kind of nuts on top – I was going to get those, but Rosmerta told me she preferred the buns because –�

“I’ve got to tell you something,� said Harry, cutting through Ron’s rambling. He had decided that this was as good a moment as any. “It’s about Snape….�

And so he related to them in undertones everything he had seen and heard in the Pensieve. By the time he reached the part about the two Unbreakable Vows, Ginny’s eyes were as wide as saucers. When he finished, the table was very quiet; it was a lot of information for them to digest at one time.

“I suppose it makes sense,� said Hermione, eventually. “I always thought that if Professor Dumbledore trusted Snape enough to make him a teacher, he must have had pretty firm grounds for trusting him.�

Ginny still looked doubtful.

“Snape’s still definitely a complete git,� Harry told her. “And he still hates my guts. But I think Dumbledore’s right – even though Snape’s evil, he’s no Death Eater.�

“He acts like one,� argued Ron. His Butterbeer had grown cold without him noticing.

“He stopped the Death Eaters killing Harry last June,� said Hermione. “And didn’t Dumbledore tell you that Snape saved his life, Harry? The time when his hand was damaged by that ring Horcrux?�

Harry nodded, and reached for the sugar-buns. “Look, I still hate Snape for how he’s treated me all these years, and for what he did to Sirius,� he assured Ron and Ginny through a mouthful of sweet, crumbly bun. “I don’t suddenly love him or anything. But I reckon we’re going to have to agree with Dumbledore on this one. I mean, just go along with it, won’t you? It’s not going to affect us that much, I don’t think; we’ll just have to protect Snape from our own side if he comes back.�

They finished their Butterbeer in silence, each deep in their own thoughts.

“We’d better go,� said Hermione eventually. “We should probably get the You-Know-What back home without any more delay.�

They stood up reluctantly; the warm inn was much more comfortable than the wintry outdoors. Ron stuffed the last sugar-bun whole into his mouth, and with that, they made their way to the door.

Harry halted abruptly halfway there – Hermione and Ginny both walked into him – for out the corner of his eye, he had spotted something through one of the side windows. He turned and stared in disbelief.

“What is it, Harry?� Hermione hissed anxiously as she regained her balance.

For a long moment, Harry couldn’t speak. Then –

“Percy,� he breathed. “Again, following us!�

“What?� said Ron and Ginny together.

“I said, it’s Percy!� said Harry, pointing out of the window. “And he’s talking to someone – yeah – it’s Dawlish!�

“What?� Ron repeated in annoyance. “How’d he know we were here?�

“Never mind that, I want to know what he’s saying to Dawlish,� said Harry grimly. “I’m going to find out. C’mon.�

They exited the inn, and when the door shut behind them
Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket. Wordlessly, the four of them crowded close, and Harry flung the Cloak over their shoulders. It was a struggle to cover all of them, but jammed tightly together they managed it. As quickly as possible they made their way round the side of the inn, where Percy and the Ministry Auror were talking in low, furious whispers.

“I told you, I don’t know why they wanted it,� Percy was saying angrily, his horn-rimmed glasses glinting. “It just looked like a necklace, but they must have Summoned it from the lake for a reason.�

“And what would Harry Potter be wanting with a piece of ladies’ jewellery?� barked Dawlish in frustration. “I doubt the Minister will be satisfied with your report, Weasley. Have you learnt nothing else of interest?�

“They called the necklace a – a Horcrux, I think, sir.�
Harry stiffened under the Cloak, and felt a trickle of sweat roll down his back. Damn, he thought furiously. Damn. Ron swore, very softly, and Hermione elbowed him nervously to make him be quiet. Harry’s fingers itched to go to his wand and perform the spell that would wipe Percy’s memory clean; but Memory Charms were highly advanced magic, they had not yet been taught them, and he did not know how….

But Dawlish merely looked thoughtful. “A Horcrux, you say? Hm, I don’t know what that is, do you, Weasley?�
“No, sir, I’m afraid I don’t.�

“Well, I’m sure it will be of consequence; you did better than I thought. But I still think you should have followed them into the pub.�

“I told you,� said Percy irritably. “I’m not about to go into the Three Broomsticks after them. Following them from Hogwarts is a different matter; I think they’d notice if I walked into the room right in front of them!�

“We could be missing out on important information,� said Dawlish curtly. “Information which it’s your job to collect.�

“It poses too much of a risk, sir.� The back of Percy’s neck was beginning to turn red. “If they knew I was watching them, they’d take extra steps to conceal what they are doing from the Ministry, and you know how much the Minister needs my information!�

“Couldn’t the Minister have spared you an Invisibility Cloak, Weasley? It would have saved a lot of hassle.�

“There were none,� said Percy testily. “All we had are being used by Aurors trying to find You-Know-Who.�

Dawlish sighed irritably and glanced through the window into the inn, then stiffened.

“Weasley,� he said sharply. “Get going; they’ve left already while you’ve been wasting your time gabbing!�

Percy’s face was an amusing mixture of offence and panic. “I’ll see you later, Dawlish,� he said quickly. “I’ll find them, they must be close.�

Before Harry could stop him, Ron had thrown the Cloak off himself and stepped into Percy’s path.

“Yeah, closer than you think, Perce.�

Percy stumbled backwards in shock to see his younger brother appear from mid-air, but soon regained his composure. Dawlish’s gaze flicked from one to the other, and then, alarmingly, at the very spot at which Ron had appeared, and where Harry and the others were still standing, frozen, beneath the Cloak.

“Ron,� said Percy finally, in an unconvincingly casual tone. “What are you doing here? It’s not safe, you know, to wander the streets alone nowada–�

A smashing blow from Ron’s fist directly in his face stopped Percy mid-speech and he cried out in pain, reeling backwards. Beside him, Harry heard Ginny give a soft, triumphant laugh. Harry found himself gripping her arm, warning her not to reveal herself yet. He still hoped they could get away without causing too much of a scene.

“Now, now, that is quite out of order, young man,� the shocked Dawlish began as Percy staggered into him, grasping his shoulder for support.

“You interfering git,� spat Ron, ignoring Dawlish and glaring at his elder brother.

“Ron,� gasped Percy, whose nose was bleeding and lip swelling up. “Ron, I – I’m disappointed in you –�

“Well, I'm not the one Dad’s disowned, am I?� shouted Ron. “Why can’t you just leave us alone? What we’re doing is none of your business!�

“So you are up to something,� said Percy swiftly, then continued in a tone of forced calm as he mopped up the blood on his face with a starched pocket-handkerchief. “Listen here, Ron, the Minister wants to help defeat You-Know-Who; his aims differ in no way from your own. He is more than willing to lend you and young Harry all the help you need – a squad of Aurors – Dark Detectors – why, he sent a letter offering all of you Auror training just a few hours ago. If you’d just allow us to help you, if you’d just tell us what you’re doing, we have all the resources to aid your success. It’s a more than reasonable idea.�

Percy finished speaking and waited tensely for an answer. His back was straight, his shoulders thrown back, and he was evidently trying to assume an air of dignified authority, though the effect of this was slightly ruined by the large blackish-purple bruise rising on his cheek where Ron had hit him.

“We’re not interested in your help, Percy,� said Ron disgustedly. “Just keep away from us. You can run back to the Minister now, and suck up to him as usual. But if you tell him anything that you heard from us, you’ll regret it. I won’t be seeing you.� He turned away to go.

“What are these Horcrux things, then?� shouted Percy desperately at Ron’s back. “And what do you want with that necklace?�

Harry clenched his fists, sorely tempted to reveal himself. But he was scared that in a confrontation with Percy Weasley he might accidentally let some information slip. He wished Ron would hurry up and leave; it was very uncomfortable under the Cloak, trying not to allow any part of his, Hermione or Ginny’s bodies to be seen.

Ron did not turn round. He merely said through a tightly-clenched jaw, “Shut your mouth and don’t go shouting that in public. And don’t you dare say a word of that to the Minister. Or to anyone else, for that matter.�

“Well, we have other ways of getting information,� said Percy shortly. “We’ll find out what you’re up to, and when we do you’ll be glad of it.�

“What other ways?� said Ron, suddenly, turning round sharply to face his brother again. “How come you always know where we’re going, anyway? That day at Aberforth’s, we didn’t tell anyone about it, only – only –� Ron’s voice died on his lips and he stared at Percy with dawning comprehension. “That’s why,� he said slowly. “That’s why Hedwig was late back, and why she was so nervous. You’ve been intercepting our mail!�

Harry inhaled sharply, thinking back to Hedwig, who they had had to keep cooped up in Grimmauld Place because she was too scared about leaving the house to hunt. His blood boiled, and finally he could stand it no longer.

Hermione grabbed his arm as he started forward, but he wrenched it out of her grasp and ducked out from under the Cloak. Percy stepped back as his cold gaze was met by Harry’s furious one.

“So, you lie to your own family and spy on your fellow-Gryffindors, capture my owl, and read my letters.� Harry was breathing heavily and he gripped his wand tightly beneath his robes, feeling a slow wave of uncontrolled magic flowing up his arm and into his hand…. Then Dawlish’s curt voice cut through the cold air.

“Why don’t the rest of you show yourself? We all know you’re there.� His gaze was fixed directly on the spot where Hermione and Ginny were crouched under the Cloak. There was a pause, then the girls suddenly appeared as Hermione reluctantly pulled off the Cloak. Percy avoided Ginny’s cool gaze and spoke pompously to Harry, who tried to calm himself.

“We only want to help you, Harry,� Percy began. “The wizarding world needs reassurance that the Chosen One is succeeding in his quest. I’m sure you’re doing very well,� he added hastily. “But if they know you have the backbone of the Ministry behind you, morale will rise sky-high. The population have a lot of faith in you, you realise.�

“Well, good for them,� said Harry shortly. “We don’t want your help. I know what that would be – a load of publicity and reporters like Rita Skeeter sticking their nose into my business every five seconds. No thanks.�

“Well, why don’t you just let us have a look at that necklace you have hidden under your cloak?� said Percy coaxingly. “I’m rather an expert on artefacts like that, if I say so myself. I could help, you know.�

Harry stared at Percy in disbelief and felt a rush of dislike stronger than anything he had ever felt towards the Weasley boy previously.

“You never give up, do you?� he said slowly. “No matter what.�

Percy didn’t seem to hear. His gaze was fixed on the exact spot under Harry’s robes where he had tucked the Horcrux.

“Show me the necklace,� he said again, but this time it sounded more like an order. “Let me look at it!�

Harry backed away, slipping his hand into his robes and gripping the scarf-wrapped Horcrux tightly.

“I won’t go back to the Minister empty-handed,� cried Percy, as Harry, who thought things were getting out of control, readied himself to Disapparate. “Give me it! Accio!�

“No!� Harry bellowed in horror and fear, as the Horcrux was jerked powerfully towards Percy; his fingers grasped desperately at the ends of the scarf, gripping it with all his strength. For one second in which time seemed to stop, the Binding-Charm which Hermione had placed on the scarf held firm; then, with a terrible wrenching, ripping sound, the scarf was torn away and the purple jewels flashed malignantly in the wintry sunshine, as they zoomed towards Percy’s eager outstretched hands. There was a high, petrified scream from Hermione or Ginny, a vicious clinking of opals as the necklace touched Percy’s fingertips, and then the Weasley boy crumpled without a sound.

“PERCY!� bellowed Ron, his face suddenly white with sickened fear as he hurtled towards his fallen brother. “No!�

Harry’s heart seemed to have stopped; his mouth went completely dry and he, too, stumbled over to Percy’s body where it lay awkwardly on the stony ground. Ginny was already knelt there, her fingernails making marks on her cheeks as she clutched them in agitated horror. One glance at Percy’s still face and blank eyes told Harry all he needed to know. A prickly feeling of terrible guilt and sadness rose up in his chest and he turned away so he wouldn’t have to see the horn-rimmed glasses, which had cracked as their owner hit the ground. All that Harry could think at that moment was, How can we ever explain this to Mrs Weasley? Whatever Percy had done wrong, he was still her son, and Ron and Ginny’s brother. Ron, who was rocking back and forth, gripping his hair so hard his knuckles were white, was evidently sharply regretting the harsh words which had passed between himself and Percy in the last moments of his brother’s life.

But the shock had barely begun to sink in when Dawlish, who had staggered back against the wall of the inn in dismay when Percy had collapsed, gave a shout and drew his wand. Harry looked up and his stomach lurched, for the door of the Three Broomsticks had opened and now, striding towards them with his hood thrown back, his wand raised and a triumphant glint in his cold grey eyes, was someone whom the sight of made Harry’s heart leap in fear; someone who Harry had absolutely no desire to meet at all.

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Hermione gave a terrified squeak.

“Why, Harry Potter, what a pleasant surprise...�

“You!� Harry glared at Lucius Malfoy with utmost dislike, hand tightening on his own wand.

“Oh, I’d put that away, Potter…you see, resistance is futile.� To Harry’s horror, more Death Eaters emerged from the doorway of the Three Broomsticks. Screams suddenly issued from inside as people realised they’d been sharing the pub with the country’s most wanted killers. Pandemonium broke out; terrified witches and wizards poured out through the doorway, and ran or Apparated away from the scene. Chairs clattered, there was the sound of glass breaking, and shopping bags spilling over with Christmas presents fell unheeded to the ground as their owners fled.

“Now, why don’t you just step out of the way and let me retrieve that charming necklace the dead Weasley is holding….�

Everything happened so fast; as the Death Eaters closed in on him, Harry had only one thing on his mind: get the necklace and get out of this place alive.

“Stupefy!� he bellowed, moving backwards as quickly as he could to stand in front of Percy’s body. Lucius blocked the Stunner, and suddenly curses were flying at Harry from all directions.

Harry dived to one side. As he scrambled up, Shielding himself quickly, he saw Ron and Ginny fighting heroically to fend off the Death Eaters and keep them away from the Horcrux. Several more jets of light shot at him; Harry dodged, and raised his wand quickly.

“Pyrashio!� he roared, slashing his wand through the air; the resultant wave of fire that crashed towards the dozens of Death Eaters surrounding him probably saved his life.

“Stupefy! Impedimenta! Sectumsempra!� Harry fired off a sequence of effective spells, darting in all directions as he did so to avoid being hit himself. Several Death Eaters fell, but there were too many – any second now he was going to be overpowered.

“AVEUGLEUS!� Harry shouted in desperation; the Blinding Charm sent Lucius Malfoy and two others down on their knees, clawing in agony at their eyes. Harry ducked several rays of red light that shot directly at him. “Expelliarmus! EXPELLIARMUS!�

Where was Hermione? With a jolt of sick fear, Harry realised she was gone. Ron and Ginny were doing well; still on their feet, they were keeping the Death Eaters away from the necklace, which was clutched in Percy’s dead hand. But of Hermione there was no sign.

“Avada Kedavra!� Harry only just escaped; he felt the Killing Curse shoot past his left ear. It was Bellatrix Lestrange who had sent it at him; seconds later, she screamed as a well-aimed hex from Ron set her long dark hair on fire.

“Ron, where’s Hermione?� yelled Harry, but before Ron could answer, there was a loud crack! right beside Harry – Mr Weasley had appeared. Then another crack!, and another, and before Harry’s astonished eyes half of the Order of the Phoenix Apparated right into the scene.

“Harry!� Hermione was suddenly running towards him, as the confused Death Eaters struggled to cope with this unexpected reinforcement.

A well-aimed spell cracked Harry over the head like a block of ice and he staggered, seeing stars – but he was still conscious, still alive, though the world was rocking before his eyes. Hermione dragged him back, out of the immediate firing line, as Kingsley Shacklebolt, Lupin, Bill and Charlie Weasley, Tonks, and all the others began to duel. It was suddenly a full-fledged battle. Harry, his head aching, gaped at Hermione.

“Hermione, what –?�

“I went back to Grimmauld and got everybody there to come as soon as possible –� A malevolent flash of purple light shot their way and they both automatically threw up Shield Charms; it bounced harmlessly away.

The Order was doing well; many Death Eaters were down, and others had fled, but to Harry’s horror he saw Order members amongst the fallen. Not knowing whether they were dead or merely unconscious, he and Hermione wordlessly ran forward, back into the battle. As the adrenaline surged through his body, the pain in Harry’s head seemed to recede.

A glimpse of a familiar round face surprised Harry – Neville was in the midst of the action. His face pale but determined, he attacked the Death Eaters with an uncharacteristic fierceness. McGonagall was battling a Death Eater nearly twice her size.

There was a sudden, piercing shriek, and Harry almost got hit by a curse as he turned automatically to locate the source of the noise. Mrs Weasley, it seemed, had only just seen Percy’s body. But she didn’t stop fighting, or even run to his side. Instead she turned on the Death Eaters with twice as much ferocity as before. “Which of you did it?� she shrieked, livid with furious grief. “Take that! And that! And –�

The fighting was beginning to make no sense to Harry. People were falling and screaming everywhere; a Death Eater twice Harry’s size stumbled blindly into him, clutching his face in pain. Jets of light were shooting in all directions, and suddenly more people were joining the fight. Harry’s brain barely registered that now Ministry Aurors were fighting too – where had they come from? – and that the Death Eaters were slowly but surely getting fewer and fewer.

Every muscle in Harry’s body ached, and sweat poured from his forehead into his eyes as he fought to just keep fighting, keep blocking, to stay on his feet….

A sudden, agonising pain pierced his leg, and Harry stumbled. Remus Lupin and Mad-Eye Moody immediately appeared at his side; they sent a volley of curses at the Death Eater who had injured Harry, who ran, hands over his head, to get away.

And then the Death Eaters were gone. Evidently having realised that the odds were against them, they had given up hope and Disapparated. Harry barely noticed; the searing pain in his leg was beginning to fog his vision, and he sank to one knee. Strong hands jerked him roughly to his feet, supporting him.

“Harry, are you okay?� Lupin’s voice was steady though anxious, and he quickly knelt before Harry to examine the damage. Harry pulled himself together – it had been mostly shock that had nearly caused him to faint; he was not badly hurt, there were many times he had felt worse.

“I’m all right,� he said to Lupin, determinedly ignoring the fact that the aching pain had returned to his head as the adrenaline drained away, and that his leg was throbbing terribly. “Where’s Ginny?�

“She’ll be fine,� Lupin reassured him. “Just knocked out, she’ll come round soon. Tonks is seeing to her.�

Tonks was indeed bent over Ginny’s prone figure; as Harry watched, concerned, Ginny stirred and woke. Relieved, Harry’s gaze swept over the rest of the scene. The place was a mess – bodies were everywhere, in varying states of consciousness. Aurors were moving among the Death Eaters, immobilising and binding them to prevent escape.

“I don’t know where Minerva is, though,� murmured Lupin in concern, his eyes sweeping over the wreckage. “Unless she’s gone to fetch help….�

One of the windows of the Three Broomsticks was smashed, and Madame Rosmerta had crept out of the pub to gaze with horrified eyes at the scene, moaning softly, “Death Eaters in my own pub! Oh, I can’t believe this….� Harry met Hermione’s eyes from across the clearing; she looked unhurt, but she gestured sadly to where Percy lay. Harry looked over.

Mrs Weasley was bent over Percy’s body, all the fight drained from her at last. She did not speak or even cry; she just knelt there, her loose hair hiding her expression, as she gazed upon her son’s still face. Mr Weasley was beside her, his whole figure drooping defeatedly. Charlie and Ron had also congregated there. Together, the family made a small, sad group. Harry’s insides burned with guilt and sadness, and Lupin saw his expression.

“At least he died fighting for our side,� he said gently. Harry stared wordlessly into his old teacher’s face; did Lupin imagine that Percy had been killed by Death Eaters before the Order had arrived on the scene? But before he could think of anything to say, a rough, commanding voice barked at them.

“You there, get away from Harry Potter!�

A tall Auror with cold blue eyes and a pale, hard face had noticed Lupin, who let go of Harry’s arm as though he had been burned. As the Auror approached, his wand aimed at Lupin’s throat, Lupin’s body tensed, and his eyes strayed to his own wand. He had dropped it on the ground when he bent to help Harry.

“Don’t even think about it, werewolf,� snarled the Auror, and Lupin froze. “Yes, I know who you are, Remus Lupin. I was surprised to read in the papers four years ago about your condition…you never let on at school what you were. Did Potter and Black and Pettigrew know what you were?�

Lupin looked at the Auror carefully and his face suddenly took on a closed expression. “Samuel Penwick. Ravenclaw, weren’t you?�

Penwick made no answer; he just smiled thinly. More Aurors were coming over. Perhaps they had heard Penwick say the word “werewolf�; in any case, their faces were grim with intent.

“Don’t touch him,� snarled Harry, reaching for his wand, but two Aurors immediately seized his arms and held him back.

“What’s going on? Remus!� Kingsley Shacklebolt was suddenly running over, followed by Hermione, Mr Weasley and a limping Mad-Eye Moody. The ex-Auror didn’t seem to have noticed that his arm was covered in blood.

“Remus Lupin, as a werewolf we are placing you under arrest,� said Penwick clearly. “You will be escorted to the Ministry, where you will be dealt with accordingly. Take him!�

“No!� said Harry, his mouth dry with fear. He fought angrily against the strong men
holding him as the Aurors closed in on Lupin, who made a sudden, desperate lunge for his wand. But he never made it; several ruthless hands gripped his arms and he was pulled back, struggling fruitlessly to wrench himself free.

“Get off him!� shouted Kingsley and Mr Weasley together, brandishing their wands as the Aurors yanked Lupin’s arms behind his back.

"Expelliarmus!" Two hulking, scarred-faced Aurors Disarmed both Mr Weasley and Kingsley before either could speak another word, and within seconds, both had wands pointed warningly at their chests.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Penwick,� growled Mad-Eye Moody furiously. “Lupin’s a good man. Let him go!�

“Yeah, he’s done nothing wrong!� said Harry loudly, trying to ignore the fact that the pain in his leg was getting steadily worse and he was beginning to feel light-headed. Hermione seemed too frightened to speak to these grim-faced Aurors, but she backed Harry up by nodding vigorously.

Penwick ignored them all, and bound Lupin’s hands tightly with thin cord that shot from the tip of his wand. “Keep out of this, Alastor,� he said coldly. “It’s Ministry business. He’s only a werewolf. I don’t know why any of you should be worried about him…unless you are in league with him, Shacklebolt?�

Kingsley hesitated, and Penwick raised an eyebrow. “I think there may be an inquiry into this,� he said softly. Then without warning he turned back to the Aurors restraining Lupin. “Take him away,� he said. “Tell the Minister this is Remus Lupin, werewolf; he’s been hiding from us for a long time.�

And before Harry or any of them could speak another word of protest, the Aurors had Disapparated, taking Lupin with them. Harry stopped struggling to get free and instead felt himself go weak. He stared at his shoes, chest constricting, as the words of the newspaper article they’d all read with such horror all those months ago came back to him with numbing clarity: “Any known werewolf, if found, will be arrested on the spot, interrogated, and if found to have ever endangered any person – wizard or Muggle – legally executed as soon as possible….�

“Samuel!� A small, lean man with dark hair and a thin moustache came over. “We’ve found a necklace in Weasley’s hand. What should we do with it?�

Harry’s head snapped up and he inhaled sharply – he’d forgotten about the Horcrux. He and Hermione shared an agonised glance.

“It’s mine,� he said before Penwick could get in a word. “It’s – got nothing to do with Percy.�

Penwick and the small Auror looked at Harry, as did Moody and Mr Weasley.
“Harry, do you know something about this?� said Kingsley, his deep voice calm yet slightly suspicious. Unable to meet Kingsley’s eyes, and certainly not Mr Weasley's, Harry once again addressed Penwick.

“The necklace is mine,� he repeated, trying to speak offhandedly. “It’s nothing important, honestly.� But a note of desperation had crept into his voice. Penwick wasted no more time.

“Take the necklace to the Ministry,� he said brusquely. The small Auror nodded and headed back to where Percy lay.

Harry struggled with himself, but he couldn’t let someone else die, even if they were going to take away one of the Horcruxes they had searched so hard to find. “Don’t touch it with your bare skin,� he finally yelled at the small Auror’s retreating back, then twisted fiercely round to glare at the strong, dour man still tightly gripping his arms. “And get your hands off me,� he snarled. “There are more useful things you could be doing.�

The man hesitated, but when he saw that the small Auror had straightened up, holding the necklace in a carefully-gloved hand, he finally loosed his grip. With bitter resentment, Harry watched the small Auror Disapparate, and vowed that he would get that necklace back if it was the last thing he did.

“Hey, you lot – they’re taking people to St Mungo’s now,� came a new voice, and Tonks came to join them. “Or to Azkaban, obviously, if they’re Death Eaters. Oh, and you haven’t seen Minerva, have you? No one knows where she’s gone, unless she went to St Mungo’s or something for help…what’s going on?� she added curiously, for nobody was anwering her; Moody and Hermione were shooting Samuel Penwick viciously aggressive looks and Harry was seething.

“Tonks,� said Shacklebolt gently. “I don’t know anything about Minerva, but I’m afraid that Penwick here decided to – to take Remus to the Ministry.�

Tonks paled. “What?� she breathed, her eyes wide. “You mean – he’s been arrested?�
She did not need an answer; she saw it in Kingsley’s sympathetic eyes. With a furious wail, she lunged at Penwick. “What are you going to do with him?� she screamed. “You’re going to try to have him executed, aren’t you? Well, over my dead body –�

Penwick raised his arms to fend her off, “What is it to you, Tonks?� he snapped. “There’s something strange about all this. You and Shacklebolt and Moody, and these kids –� He gestured at Harry and Hermione, who both bristled. “You’re all defending the werewolf. I’m going to have to report this to the Minister. You know it’s illegal to hide or protect a werewolf, so I hope for your sakes that you have not been doing so.�

“What if we have?� said Tonks recklessly, breathing hard; Harry could see that she was fighting back tears. “What can’t you people just leave him alone?� She was shouting again, and Penwick stood there, a calculating look in his cold blue eyes.

“Perhaps you should join us for an inquiry at the Ministry, Tonks,� he said dryly. “You seem to know a lot about all this. Yes, I think the Minister would like to ask you a few questions – you too, Alastor, Kingsley. Report to the Ministry in ten minutes, or the Minister will be very displeased.�

“You think I care what the damn Minister thinks –� muttered Tonks mutinously. “What’s going to happen to Remus?�

“Do as you’re told, Tonks, if you want to keep your job,� snapped Penwick. “I have other business to attend to, namely, the inquiry into Weasley’s unfortunate demise. Good day.�

And he walked off, leaving a still-shocked, angry, but most of all fearful, group behind him.

Please review!

Once they were alone, the biting pain in Harry’s leg reminded him that he needed medical aid, and soon. But then Tonks began to speak, and Harry remained quiet, trying not to look like his leg felt as though it were in the jaws of a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

“What are we going to do?� Tonks was trembling and her voice shook. Sometime in the last five minutes, though Harry hadn’t noticed it, her bubblegum-pink spikes had turn thin and mousey; her hair hung limply around her now-pale face.

“We’ll sort it out, Tonks,� Mr Weasley said quickly. “Somehow or other, we’ll help him….�

“If that snooping, lying old lion they call Minister for Magic thinks he’s going to execute Remus Lupin, he’ll have the whole of the Order to reckon with first,� growled Moody, as Tonks merely turned away, rubbing her eyes fiercely with one hand.

“Not all of the Order,� she said, her voice slightly muffled. “Not all of them were completely happy about working with a werewolf…Sturgis wasn’t…and Diggle –�

“Tonks.� Mr Weasley stopped her from going any further. “Trust me; no matter what their views, Sturgis and Dedalus wouldn’t like to see Remus, er, sentenced. We’ll sort it out,� he repeated reassuringly, though he looked tired and troubled. “There will be ways….�

Tonks just sniffed wetly and gave a tiny nod, twisting her wedding ring round and round on her finger.

“Harry,� said Hermione suddenly, sounding alarmed. Mr Weasley and Moody turned around rapidly, concerned. “Oh, no, Harry...� Hermione looked terrified. Harry had only been half-following the conversation. His wound was burning and he felt light-headed and weak. Rather stupidly, he’d stretched his leg experimentally; the result had been alarmingly large black spots that swam before his eyes, and the voices around him turned into a confused roar. He had grabbed Hermione’s shoulder in an effort to stop himself falling.

“Harry, are you all right?� Mr Weasley’s concerned voice echoed rather oddly in Harry’s ears.

“Er,� said Harry thickly. “I’m….� The ground rocked before him as he swayed.

“St. Mungo’s,� said Moody immediately, gripping Harry’s arm and yanking him upright. “You up to Apparating?�

It was a stupid question; by that time Harry was incapable of even standing alone. The black spots swelled again, the pain below his knee spread; Harry saw only a confused blur of scared faces whirling before his eyes and a roar like rushing wind in his ears before he fell, as though down a long dark tunnel, into oblivion.

Harry woke to find himself in a very quiet, very white hospital ward. From the dim, fading light outside the window, it seemed to be early evening. The air in the ward was cool and fresh, and everything was gleamingly clean. Harry’s bedside was surrounded by bunches of flowers, chocolates, and cards. Silent Healers moved between the few, screened, beds and it was only when Harry reached out his arm for his glasses and tried to sit up that a white-robed woman came bustling over.

“Lie down,� the Healer told Harry sternly, pushing him back onto his pillows. “Your leg shouldn’t be moved for a while. How does it feel?�

Harry wasn’t exactly sure how it felt. It didn’t hurt any more, but it was heavy and rather numb. “It’s better,� he said cautiously.

“Excellent,� said the Healer, pulling back a corner of the covers to inspect the bandages. “We’re not sure what hit you, but it appears to have been some sort of curse that burnt away relatively slowly at the skin and flesh. We were able to prevent its spread to the rest of your body, and by our calculations it should be back to normal in about a week.�

“Good,� said Harry, relieved.

“Your friends will be glad to hear it.� She smiled at him.

“How long have I been here?� Harry almost dreaded the answer; time was becoming ever more valuable nowadays, and almost every morning brought news of another death.

“About four days,� said the Healer, replacing the bedclothes and patting them down meticulously. Harry’s heart sank; what could have happened in those four days? Most importantly, what was Lupin’s situation?

“You were in the ward for Burns and Stings for a short while, but you had to be moved,� continued the Healer, not noticing the anxiety in Harry’s face. “There were so many patients trying to get a glimpse of you that the Healers-in-charge had difficulties.� She shook her head. “You must get that all the time?�

Harry nodded ruefully, and she smiled again. “Well, now you’re in a specialist ward, for your privacy.�

“Thanks,� said Harry gratefully. “Er – is it all right if I see my friends now?�

“I don’t see why not,� agreed the Healer amiably. “But not more than five at one time. Any more could disturb the other patients.� She inclined her head in the direction of one of the white-screened beds, from which sounds of quiet, erratic snoring came. She crossed the ward and went into the corridor. Harry raised his head again eagerly, and moments later, Ron, Ginny, and a very depressed-looking Hermione entered the room.

“All right, mate?� Ron looked extremely relieved.

“Yeah, not bad,� said Harry, motioning for them to sit down on his bed. “I woke up at last, then. You okay, Ginny?� The last time he had seen her she had been on the ground, being revived.

“Yeah, well, I was only knocked out,� she said, rolling her eyes. “Apparently it wasn’t even by a Death Eater; one of the Aurors misfired a curse; it blew off one of the tiles on the roof of the Three Broomsticks and whacked me over the head.�

“Nice one,� said Harry, grinning, as Ron snickered.

“I always get injured in stupid ways,� she muttered. “I twisted my ankle by falling down a step that time in the Department of Mysteries, now this….�

“I dunno why you’re complaining, myself,� Harry said in surprise. “I’d swap a twisted ankle and a bump on the head for my leg right now.�

“Oh, does it hurt badly?� whispered Hermione sympathetically. “You looked awful just before you passed out...�

Harry shook his head, wishing he hadn’t spoken. Hermione looked doleful enough as it was. “It doesn’t hurt any more, it just feels like I have a broomstick handle or something instead of a leg. Hermione, what’s worrying you? You look like someone’s died. Is there something I should know?�

Hermione nodded her head miserably, but seemed unable to say anything more, and Harry’s stomach clenched in familiar dread.

“Uh,� said Ron cautiously. “We didn’t come out too badly in the fight. An Auror died, apparently, but otherwise there’s less than a dozen in St Mungo’s being treated, and we got plenty of Death Eaters, so the public are pretty happy about that.�

“And so’s Scrimgeour, I’ll bet,� Harry put in. “Who was the Auror? Is that the bad news?� Harry was sorry the Auror had died, but – though it made him feel guilty thinking it – if it was nobody he knew personally, it made it easier.

“Dunno who he was,� shrugged Ron. “Some old guy. But don’t worry about, Harry, you always beat yourself up too much. And no, that wasn’t the bad news. McGonagall’s still missing,� he added, before Harry asked. “We hoped she’d turn up after the battle, but no luck. Nobody has any idea where she could be.�

The reason for Hermione’s gloom became clear, and Harry himself felt more than slightly panicky upon hearing the news. McGonagall was a capable witch, but she had been gone nearly four days – and disappearing in the middle of battle like that...

“D’you reckon the Death Eaters – took her or something?� he said, biting his lip as he gazed at them searchingly. Nobody answered him; Hermione now seemed close to tears and Ron and Ginny just looked at Harry helplessly.

“I know what happened to her,� croaked a voice suddenly from a bed across the room, making all three of them jump.

“Neville,� said Ron in surprise. “You’re awake too!�

“Neville’s here?� said Harry, confused.

“He’s been out of it, same as you,� said Ginny, getting off Harry’s bed to walk over to Neville’s.

“They put you two up here because you were both getting so much media attention,� Ron informed Harry. “People trying to take photographs, interview the Healers, that sort of thing.�

“Harry,� said Hermione suddenly. “Did – did Neville just say he knows where Professor McGonagall is?� She looked as though she was coming out of a dream and Harry scratched his head. “Er – I think so.�

Hermione was at Neville’s side in less than three seconds. “Where?� she shot at him. “Oh, you know where she is?�

“No,� said Neville, looking slightly alarmed at the intensity in Hermione’s words. Her eager face fell, and Hermione drooped visibly. “But I saw what happened to her,� Neville added hastily.

“What?�

“She was stunned, I think,� said Neville. “By some huge Death Eater. Then – then he grabbed her arm and Disapparated with her….�

Hermione dropped onto Neville’s bed despairingly. “Oh, my god…what do they want with her?� she wailed.

“Shh!� Harry’s Healer was back. “You’ll disturb the other patients…oh! You’re awake, Mr Longbottom. How do you feel?�

“Was he badly injured?� Harry asked Ron in an undertone, while they watched the Healer fussing over Neville in a way that was distinctly Madame Pomfrey-like. Ginny helped her sort out the extensive range of brightly-coloured potions on her trolley and tip them into glasses for Neville to drink, but Hermione still seemed too shocked to do anything but sit on Neville’s bed with her face buried in her hands.

“He was really lucky,� said Ron quietly, his face serious. “Bellatrix fired some kind of curse at him, that was apparently something like the one Hermione got hit by last year, you know? The one that put her in the hospital wing for weeks –�

“Yeah, I know,� said Harry impatiently. “So how come he was lucky?�

“Well, he did a Shield Charm, but it managed to get through the shield somehow – I suppose it wasn’t strong enough – and that sort of filtered it, made it less dangerous, but still, he was unconscious for ages.�

Harry whistled softly. “Yeah, we have been pretty lucky then. Ron – do you know anything about Lupin? I don’t know what I’ve missed while I’ve been asleep.�

Ron fidgeted with a corner of Harry’s bedspread. “I – I dunno much. We think there’s going to be a trial. Umbridge is all mixed up in it; she’s pushing for him to be executed and most people seem to agree with her. But I’m sure Mum and Dad are planning something with the rest of the Order. They won’t tell us what, but we walked in on a Order meeting yesterday accidentally – well, sort of accidentally – and they were definitely talking about him.�

Harry looked down at his covers, burning up with worry inside. But there was still another thing preying on his mind. “What about – the necklace?� he said in a whisper, dreading the answer.

“We went to the Ministry straight away, all of us, to try to get it back,� said Ron, watching Harry carefully. “But it was no go. Don’t have a clue where it is, and nobody’s letting on.�

Harry gritted his teeth. “If only we hadn’t gone into the Three Broomsticks,� he muttered angrily. “I’m always messing up like this.�

“There’s – there’s more, Harry,� said Ron slowly. He sounded nervous, and Harry looked up at him.

“Is it bad?� Harry was apprehensive. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. Silently, Ron opened his bag, drew out a folded newspaper, and tossed it in front of Harry. Then he looked stubbornly at the floor. Harry opened the Daily Prophet slowly, dreading what he was going to learn.

It was dated the fifteenth of December; the day after the battle in Hogsmeade. Harry’s stomach lurched as he saw the picture on the front page. It was a gigantic, blown-up photograph of the necklace Horcrux, whose purple opals twinkled and glittered sinisterly at him. Beside were two smaller photographs; those of the Auror Dawlish and, to Harry’s mounting incredulity and horror, Percy Weasley.

FEAR NO MORE – THE BOY WHO LIVED IS ON THE CASE!

Rumour has long had it that Harry Potter, who has faced You-Know-Who numerous times in his life, is the Chosen One who will free us from the tyranny of the Dark Lord and his supporters. And now, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, he is already on the job! It is a difficult task that Harry faces; far harder than previously supposed. After much research, it has been discovered that You-Know-Who has divided his soul into a number of pieces (as yet unknown) and has concealed them inside certain objects hidden in various secret places. This explains You-Know-Who’s invincibility; while these objects survive and parts of his soul remain undamaged, he can not be slain. But fear not; we have a hero to save us all! It is the worthy Harry Potter’s daunting task to hunt out these objects, known as Horcruxes, and to destroy them. It is possible that this will weaken You-Know-Who, though our researchers in the Department of Mysteries have admitted they ‘don’t really know much about these Horcrux thingamajigs at all.’

Harry has done a very good job already – we applaud him for his fantastic work. Already at least one Horcrux has been found (opal necklace, cursed: pictured) and we appeal for the support of every good witch and wizard in the country in this matter. There are still some pieces of You-Know-Who’s soul out there; we ask that any information you might have concerning them be delivered to the new Ministry Department set up for this purpose: the Department of Horcruxes. We are still trying to identify the precise nature of the remaining undiscovered Horcruxes.

The Prophet wishes to recognise the people who brought this truth to light: Ralph Dawlish and Percival Weasley. It is to our very great sorrow we report that Mr Weasley was killed while gathering this invaluable information; this fine wizard should be an example to us all. (Turn to pages 3 and 4)

“Harry, you’re ripping the page.� Ron sounded worried; Harry realised he was indeed clenching his fists while he held the paper, and it was beginning to tear. “Harry? Harry, there’s nothing we can do about it, we’ll just have to keep on go—�

“‘We applaud him for his fantastic work,’� quoted Harry in a low and furious voice. “‘This fine wizard should be an example…’ Can you believe this?� he exploded, slamming the paper onto his bedcovers.

“I know,� said Ron ruefully. “Mum would usually be thrilled if one of us made the front page, but she refused to talk to any of us for about two days after she saw Percy in this….�

Harry barely heard him. “They’ve wrecked everything!� he said angrily. “Dumbledore wanted it all kept secret for a reason…he wasn’t bothered about making the damn public know that I’m ‘already on the job’! How long will it take for Voldemort to find out?�

Ron bravely ignored the name. “Er,� he said cautiously. “We think he already knows. There was a mass Muggle killing the day the Prophet came out, and it wasn’t like he was trying to blackmail Scrimgeour or anything. It was just random...�

“He was angry, so he took it out on Muggles,� said Harry.

“Yeah, that’s what we figured,� Ron agreed.

Harry threw the Daily Prophet onto the floor bad-temperedly; seconds later, Hermione and Ginny were beside him.

“Ron showed it to you?� said Ginny worriedly. “Oh God, Harry, we couldn’t believe it either…it was Dawlish, he told them everything.�

“Yes, Dawlish!� spat Harry, enraged. “He’ll regret this – I’m going to kill him!� He pushed the covers away and began to pull himself awkwardly out of bed.

“Harry,� said Hermione, looking at him with alarm. “What are you – you’re not supposed to – when you said ‘kill’, you didn’t really mean –�

“Why, Harry, old bean!�

Fred and George had burst into the ward, beaming. Hermione looked relieved. Harry gazed at them confusedly, half out of bed and his mind still full of thoughts about what exactly he was going to do to Dawlish when he found him.

“Thought we’d see if you were back from the dead yet,� said George.

“Mum’ll be happy.�

“You-Know-Who won’t.�

“Hey, George – I think we’re interrupting something.�

“I think we are, Fred. Going somewhere, Harry?�

Harry pushed himself into a standing position, balancing himself precariously on his bandaged leg. “Yes, I am,� he said firmly. “I’m going to the Ministry to murder an Auror.�

Fred and George exchanged glances.

“Ron,� said Fred in a stage whisper. “Did he get hit by a Confundus Charm, too?�

“The Aurors are on our side,� George told Harry kindly. “It’s the Death Eaters you want.�

“Not this time,� said Harry, reaching for some robes to put on over his pyjamas. “I’m going to strangle Dawlish for leaking our secrets to the Press – you have no idea what damage that could’ve caused – and I also want to see that old toad Umbridge and tell her where to stick her –�

“Harry!� The Healer was back, looking shocked. “Just what do you think you’re doing? Get back into bed this instant, you’re not doing your leg any good at all. Have you lot been exciting him?� she enquired angrily of Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins as she pushed Harry back onto his bed. “Maybe you should leave. Go on, get out!� She brandished a huge bunch of extremely ugly, bright orange flowers at them, and they fled.

“These are yours,� said the Healer curtly, plonking the flowers into a vase. They honked and blew a raspberry at him. “Just arrived from someone called Loony or Lupa or something.�

“Luna,� corrected Harry automatically. “Healer, I really have to go – there’s something important I’ve got to do –�

“You’re not going anywhere,� said the Healer firmly. “Now, I’m going for my dinner, and I don’t want to have any funny business going on behind my back. Drink this.� She pushed a flask of purple potion at him.

“What is it?� said Harry irritably. “Do I need it?�

“Sleeping Potion, you need to calm your nerves. Drink.�

Scowling, Harry emptied the potion into his mouth and lay back down.

“Good boy,� smiled the Healer. “Sweet dreams.�

Harry waited till she had left the ward, then sat up, pulled the nearest bunch of flowers – Luna’s honking orange ones, which protested loudly – towards him, and spat the potion into its vase. He had no intention of going to sleep. As quickly as he could, Harry got back out of bed, put his robes back on and hobbled towards the door.

“Good luck, Harry.� Neville was grinning. He’d seen what Harry had done.

“Thanks, Neville,� said Harry. “Don’t tell her where I’ve gone, okay?�

“’Course I won’t. Do you realise you put those Honking Daffodils to sleep?� Neville said, nodding towards the vase. Harry glanced over his shoulder. The orange flowers were indeed snoozing – and snoring gently – from the effect of the Sleeping Potion.

“Oh, yeah…whoops. Well, at least they won’t keep you awake,� said Harry. “I’ll see you later…I need to find the others.�

Harry exited the ward, pulling the door quietly shut behind him.

“Ouch, Harry!�

“Sorry,� said Harry. It had not taken him long to find everybody again, and they had just Apparated into the foyer of the Ministry, which was dimmer and more shadowy than Harry had ever seen it. With the coming of evening, the lamps were burning low, and the place was virtually empty except for a few witches and wizards exiting the room through the many fireplaces. Upon appearing in the Ministry, Harry had lost his balance and staggered into Hermione.

“Did I tread on your foot?� Harry asked apologetically, righting himself with care.

“Yes, but never mind,� said Hermione kindly, trying not to wince. “It must be difficult keeping your balance with your leg like that. I still agree with the Healer, you should’ve stayed in St Mungo’s till it healed properly –�

“So, what are we doing here again?� interrupted Fred cheerfully. The twins had insisted on joining them.

“We’re going to see Umbridge first about Lupin,� said Harry, beginning to limp towards the lift, ignoring the predictable stares and gasps he was getting from the few people he passed. “If she’s still here…it’s pretty late. Which floor is her office on?�

“’Scuse me, I dunno what you’re all doing visiting at this time of night, but you’ll need to get a badge and have your wand checked,� a bored voice drawled at them. Harry turned to see Eric Munch, the Ministry Watchwizard, sitting behind his desk holding his hand out for their wands. Impatient to get on, Harry ignored him and they stumbled towards the lift, leaving Eric behind them with a slightly baffled look on his face. Thankfully, the lift was empty, and they crowded inside before Eric had time to do anything but look gormlessly after them.

“Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, that’ll be where Umbridge is,� said Harry confidently. “Didn’t the Prophet mention she’d changed her job to one dealing just with part-humans? Twisted old toad.� He punched a button and the lift began to jerk upwards. When they reached the fourth floor, the lift doors slid open. The six of them tumbled out into the corridor, which was long, cream-coloured and lined with rows of identical white-painted doors.

“Er,� said Harry, having no idea what to do next. “Which do you reckon is Umbridge’s?�

“That one,� said Fred promptly, pointing at a door quite close to them.

“How d’you know that?� said Harry in surprise, hobbling over to it.

“I don’t, you plank, just knew you'd fall for it.� Harry shot Fred a dirty look.

“Excuse me,� said Hermione’s voice suddenly and clearly. Harry turned to see who she was speaking to. A tall, thin witch in violet robes was walking down the corridor.

“Can I help?� she asked, looking mildly surprised to see them all gathered there. Harry moved hastily behind Ron so he wouldn’t be noticed; him being around always seemed to complicate matters.

“I was just wondering if you could tell us where to find Dolores Umbridge’s office,� said Hermione politely.

“It’s number twenty-nine,� said the woman. “What do you wish to talk to her about?� She looked suspicious. “You should know that she doesn’t like kids…and I think that she’s busy right now. Maybe you should leave..�

Harry changed his mind about hiding. “We’re here to talk about some, er, private matters,� he said politely, stepping out from behind Ron. “We’d rather not disclose our business. The woman’s eyes flicked to his scar and her eyes widened.

“Oh! Oh my goodness…of – of course Mr Potter – I’ll just leave you to it….� She hurried off. Harry smirked. That newspaper article had proved slightly useful, then.

They located the door upon which was hung a small plaque engraved with “29 – DJU�. Harry walked awkwardly over to it, raised his fist and knocked, hard, on the wood.

“Enter!� piped a sugary-sweet, girlish voice from within, and Harry shoved the door open.

Dolores Umbridge was sitting behind her desk, her simpering toad-like face as repulsive as ever. Harry winced at the sight of the familiar fluffy pink cardigan and the black velvet bow nestled in her silvery curls. She was surrounded by official-looking witches and wizards; it seemed they had interrupted a meeting. At the sight of Harry, several of them – mostly witches – let out gasps. A completely bald wizard with a long ginger moustache whom Harry had never seen before in his life leapt up from his chair. “My goodness, it’s Harry Potter,� he said excitedly. He went eagerly towards Harry, hand outstretched. “Mr Potter, come in, so glad to meet you –�

“Sit down, Wodderspoon, and remember whose office this is before you begin inviting people in,� snapped Umbridge coldly, her eyes turning flint-like as she gazed at Harry. The bald wizard sank meekly back into his chair. “Mr Potter.� Umbridge’s wide mouth stretched into an insincere smile. “What an unexpected pleasure, and at such a late hour! We all believed to you be recuperating in St Mungo’s…and what can I do for you?�

Harry breathed heavily, glaring at her. “I’ve come to talk about Remus Lupin,� he said forcefully. “You’ve got to release him, you’re making a mistake.� An audible murmur went around the room at these words, and Harry saw several of the people in the room exchange interested glances.

Umbridge’s eyebrows went up. “Lupin?� she said, pretending to think very hard. “Oh! You mean the half-breed beast currently taking up space in Azkaban? I’m sorry, you were talking about the werewolf as though it were human.�

Harry's blood boiled. "Watch it," he growled, and his hand twitched towards his wand. Several of the wizards rose at this, and one little witch squeaked, “Ooh!� Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm from behind before he could do anything.

“Temper, temper, we wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble now, would we, Mr Potter? And you’ve brought your little sidekicks with you? Let me see them.�

The others crowded slowly into the room, looking at Umbridge with expressions of varying degrees of dislike. “Oh, yes, I remember you,� said Umbridge distastefully, surveying Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the twins as though they were something very nasty she had found on the sole of her shoe. “Especially you.� This aside was directed at Fred and George, who smirked.

“Ah, yes, the glorious fireworks display. Best we ever had,� sighed Fred reminiscently.

“Is the swamp still there, Professor?� George inquired innocently, and Umbridge snarled.

“Oh, you think you’re very clever, boys, but perhaps you forget that the fate of the werewolf is in my hands…I’m afraid he won’t be with us much longer. We were just discussing exactly how long, as a matter of fact.� The snarl had changed to a look of satisfaction; there was a cold gleam in Umbridge’s eyes.

“You - you horrible woman,� hissed Hermione, letting go of Harry’s arm and stepping right in front of Umbridge’s desk. “You don’t know anything about Professor Lupin, he’s on our side, he’s–�

“Be quiet, little girl, you don’t have any idea what you’re saying,� Umbridge interrupted Hermione with cold authority, and several of the witches and wizards in the room nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Werewolves present a very terrible threat to our society; it is our duty to exterminate them,� said a very pompous-looking man with thin, dark hair and unusually large nostrils. Hermione’s eyes narrowed and Ron jumped in to defend her.

“You’ve got no proof,� he said loudly. “Lupin’s never harmed anyone, he’s always been careful!� Harry thought of Lupin’s moonlit escapades with the Marauders and tried not to catch Hermione’s eye.

“Dolores, perhaps we should keep these children for questioning,� piped up a hard-faced witch, breaking the short silence that had fallen after Ron stopped speaking. “They know the werewolf; they could provide information for the trial...�

“What! You can’t detain Harry Potter for questioning,� objected the bald wizard, standing up with a shocked expression on his face just as Harry snorted contemptuously.

“If you don’t stay in your seat from now on, Wodderspoon…� purred Umbridge, tapping her painted pink fingernails ominously on the desk. “Then I’ll –�

“I’m sitting, I’m sitting!� Wodderspoon said hurriedly, dropping back down and folding his hands meekly in his lap.

“As if I’d stay if you tried to keep me,� said Harry scornfully. “When’s Lupin’s trial?�

“That’s top-secret Ministry information, Mr Potter,� Umbridge told him sweetly, at the exact same moment that Wodderspoon put in helpfully,

“It’s this Thursday, Harry!�

Umbridge shot daggers at Wodderspoon. “Shut up, you blithering idiot.� Ginny giggled.

“Cheers, Mr Wodderspoon,� said Harry, grinning, and the bald wizard, who had cringed in fear at Umbridge’s death glare, perked up again. Harry turned back to Umbridge.

“Right, as you lot obviously aren’t going to change your minds about sentencing him, we’ll be attending this trial in Lupin’s defence,� Harry informed her. Umbridge’s eyes widened very slightly, but she soon regained her composure.

“Oh, I don’t think that the Minister would agree to that,� she said sweetly. “No, no, he was planning on a very private, select trial.�

“Was he?� chipped in Wodderspoon, looking surprised. “But I thought you said earlier it was going to be a public –�

Umbridge snapped. “Get out of my office, you half-witted numbskull!� Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if she started breathing fire. Wodderspoon blinked, terrified, and scurried towards the exit.

“Wonderful to meet you, Harry Potter!� he whispered as he passed Harry, then whipped nimbly around the door before Umbridge could say anything more to him.

“Er,� said Harry, a little thrown off track, and the twins came to his rescue.

“So!� said Fred cheerfully. “As it’s a public trial –�

“– as seemed to have slipped your small brain –�

“Don’t compliment her, George.�

“Beg pardon, I mean your non-existent brain, it looks as though we will be attending –� George broke off. Umbridge had pulled out her very short wand from beneath her pink cardigan.

“All right, keep your wig on.�

“No need to be impolite.�

“You should know better than to insult an eminent Ministry official such as myself,� Umbridge hissed, all sugary tones forgotten.

Harry pulled out his own wand. “Don’t make me do something stupid,� he warned her.

Umbridge shot a look at the other witches and wizards in the room, and after a brief moment of hesitation, they all reached into their robes. Soon twelve wands pointed directly at Harry’s chest, and he paused. He hadn’t meant to end up in this sort of sticky situation; with his leg still stiff and numb, he was in no condition to duel a dozen people at once, even with support from the others. Umbridge smiled widely as she saw his indecision.

“Unless you agree not to come to the werewolf’s trial, Mr Potter, you might find yourself physically incapable of attending.� Umbridge’s eyes were gleaming alarmingly as she seemed to relish ideas of what exactly she could do to Harry right now. “You have a choice,� she reminded him. “But if you don’t lower your wand very quickly, I’ll have no option but to curse you…can’t have you endangering myself and my colleagues….�

Harry still hesitated; he would have given anything to be able to hex Umbridge into a small, nasty puddle of slime, but considering the circumstances, it probably wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do. Before he could make up his mind, however, several things happened in very quick succession.

To his right, George made a sudden movement that caused Umbridge and several wizards to swing their wands in his direction; Fred, meanwhile, let off a series of firecrackers from the tip of his wand. The room filled with screams, electric-blue smoke that hissed and crackled, and sizzling flashes of white light. Harry, ducking down and coughing, saw each of the twins pull a small, bright purple ball from the pocket of their jeans and hurl it with all their strength at the wall.

It was pandemonium. The second the tiny balls came into contact with the solid brick, they seemed to explode. From each ball shot many more balls, and these in turn rocketed around the small room, multiplying with every bounce. Spell-casting was forgotten as people cowered and ducked, shielding their faces with their arms. Dozens of the rubbery, violently-coloured objects pelted down hard on Harry’s head, and he stumbled in the direction of the door. The blue smoke had almost entirely filled the room by this time, and Harry heard George’s gleeful yells as he let forth another burst of firecrackers from his wand-tip – just for the hell of it, as it was now entirely unnecessary to defend themselves against the Ministry officials. The last thing Harry saw before he finally made it to the doorway was Umbridge crawling inelegantly underneath her own desk in a desperate attempt to avoid the whizzing, pinging, multi-coloured storm.

Harry, helped by Hermione, stumbled outside and pulled the door shut to stop the balls escaping into the corridor. Then he leant against the wall shaking with laughter.

“That,� he said to the triumphant Fred and George, “has got to be one the best things you’ve ever made.�

“Utterly – brilliant,� snorted Ron breathlessly, doubling up with laughter. “Did you see Umbridge – hiding…under her desk….� At that point, he seemed to become incapable of speaking at all and simply howled silently, hanging onto Hermione’s arm for support.

“Chaotoballs,� grinned Fred. “One hundred percent guaranteed to cause havoc in your standard, run-of-the-mill lesson.�

“They needed testing,� George informed Harry, high-fiving Fred.

“Well, they definitely work,� said Harry, attempting to smother his laughter as they set off back down the corridor. “Oh, I’d have loved to set one of those off in one of Snape’s classes.�

Hermione looked scandalised. “Harry, they’re all very well for something like this, but really, in a lesson….�

“Do they stop multiplying after a while?� Ginny asked George. “Only….� She glanced back along the corridor; they could still hear people stumbling about and yelling from inside Umbridge’s office.

“Give them about thirty seconds more and they’ll all fade away,� George told her. “We’d have liked to keep them going indefinitely –�

“– but you’d end up swimming in them, or getting crushed to death,� said Fred. “Not ideal for the classroom model…though it could be an innovative way of fighting Death Eaters,� he added thoughtfully.

They squashed themselves once more into the lift. Harry slowly sobered up, a knot twisting inside his chest as he recognised that they hadn’t resolved anything, and that Lupin’s fate hung on this coming trial.

“What’s next?� asked Ginny. “The necklace?�

“Yeah, where d’you reckon we should look for it?� asked Harry, staring at the panel of buttons in the lift doubtfully. “Who even has it?�

“The new Department?� Ginny suggested. “The Department of Horcruxes? Oh –�

The lift had begun to move downwards by itself; evidently someone was about to use it.

“Damn, where’s my Invisibility Cloak?� said Harry hastily, rummaging in the pockets of his robes.

“Back at St Mungo’s,� said Hermione. “But there’s no need to hide all the time, Harry….�

“Too late, anyway,� said Harry resignedly, readying himself as the lift doors slid open. To his consternation, at least a dozen people – all of them very elderly witches – were waiting to get in; at the sight of Harry, there was a collective gasp of surprise and admiration.

“OOH! Look, Nora, look – it’s him! It’s really him! Harry Potter!� A white-haired, button-nosed witch jiggled up and down in amazed delight.

“Yes, my dear, I had deduced that already,� said the silver-robed, bespectacled Nora dryly, though she couldn’t keep a note of childish excitement out of her voice.

“I’ve wanted to see this young man for years and years! I’ll never forget this day!� And the white-haired witch beamed shyly at Harry, her round cheeks rosy-red.

The other witches all began to speak at once.

“Oh, I’m all of a flutter!�

“What are you doing in the Ministry, Harry, dear?�

“The Prophet reported that you were ill, in St Mungo’s, were they wrong?�

“No, dearie, look, he has bandages on his leg!�

“Oh, the poor darling…does it hurt awfully?�

“Isn’t he handsome? Such a fine, strong boy….�

“Harry – may I call you Harry? – would you autograph my handkerchief? I’m afraid I don’t have any paper on me….� The white-haired witch held out a square of white, lacy material in one trembling hand.

Harry, who had been rather lost for words as this formidable fan club gazed at him in awe, sighed and pushed his way out of the lift. The witches fell silent as he stepped into their midst.

“Er,� said Harry, knowing exactly what he wanted to ask, but wondering whether or not it was wise. Finally, he threw caution to the winds; now that his business was all over the papers, Harry supposed regretfully that it wouldn’t matter if he revealed a little more. And he needed to know. He spoke very clearly, though quietly as he addressed the huddle of witches. “Can any of you tell us where to find the Department of Horcruxes?�

This caused a great deal of excitement. The white-haired witch elbowed Nora happily, whispering, “See? He’s being a hero right now!�

Harry sucked the inside of his cheek irritably, but let the statement pass.

“It’s on this floor,� said a short, much wrinkled woman helpfully. “Follow that corridor there, you can’t miss it.�

“Thanks,� said Harry gratefully, turning to go. The others squeezed out of the lift and joined him. “Er – bye,� Harry added awkwardly to the witches, who all protested.

“But we’ve only just met!�

“Wouldn’t you like to have a nice cup of tea with us?�

“Won’t you sign my handkerchief?� wailed the white-haired witch, as Harry set off impatiently down the corridor, his mind now set on one thing: getting that opal necklace back, and getting it soon.

“Sorry!� called Harry over his shoulder and the others caught up with him. “Lots to do – thanks for your help!� He didn’t have time to waste scribbling on the handkerchiefs of dotty old ladies. It was already late; through the windows, the sky was a dark blue-grey, faintly sprinkled with stars. Full night was nearly upon them, and Harry, being totally unfamiliar with Ministry shifts, had no idea whether all the employees at the Department of Horcruxes would have gone home.

“What did you say we were doing again?� Fred queried as they strode along the corridor, which was an unusually long, twisting one.

“Oh, yeah….� Harry realised he had never told the twins why they were here. “Well, we’re going to try to get back one of the Horcruxes from the Department,� he told them. “Er – the necklace that was in the Daily Prophet,� he added awkwardly; it was the thing that had killed Percy, and was probably a sensitive subject.

But Fred only replied cheerfully, “Aha, the infamous Horcrux hunt…Now we, too, can be heroes right now, can’t we, Harry – may I call you Harry, Mr. Potter?�

George gasped. “You mean this is Harry Potter?� he said in awestruck tones. “Oh my goodness – I never realised – I’m all of a flutter!�

“Oh, shut up,� said Harry as both Ron and Ginny snorted.

The corridors were empty, their footsteps echoing on the smooth white tiles. Harry walked as fast as he could on his bandaged leg (which was beginning to hurt again after the strain he had been putting it through), wondering when the Department was going to come into sight. They turned a corner. Then –

“AGGHHH!� Harry let out a yell of shock as his body collided with something very solid, very human, and perfectly invisible, that gave an oof of pain as Harry hit it.

“Shut up, boy, shut up! And point that wand away from me, idiot! What the hell are you lot doing here?� The growling voice was familiar.

“W-w-what?� Harry stammered, staring wildly at the space in front of him. “Professor Moody?�

But another bodiless voice answered him urgently, from the air in front of a large, ornate door inscribed with the words, ‘D. of Horcruxes’. Harry recognised it instantly as Mr Weasley’s.

“Harry, all of you, I don’t know what you’re doing, but get out of here! We’re on Order business – go!�

"So, what do you reckon?" Fred spoke quietly, with a furtive look at the kitchen door. Though the kitchen was empty, the house wasn't; they could hear footsteps upstairs. They were back in the old, stony kitchen at Grimmauld Place. Hermione and Ginny were sitting at the table, and Ron, Harry and the twins on top of it.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Well, are Moody and your dad in the habit of breaking into Ministry departments in the middle of the night? If they are, that would help..."

"Maybe the Order have found out something about a Horcrux that we don't know," suggested Ron. "Maybe they're going to get the necklace!"

"Scrimgeour was in there," Hermione reminded him. "Maybe they just needed to speak to him."

"Funny way to go and have a natter with someone, under an Invisibility Cloak,� said Ron. “Hello, Minister, I’ve been wanting to see you so I thought I’d creep up on you, invisible, from behind –"

"Well, it was just an idea," said Hermione testily. "I doubt the Order's going to send people around stealing stuff from the Ministry. And it's risky – I mean, your dad works there, Ron!"

"Really?" said Ron. "I hadn't noticed –"

Harry raised his voice. "When you two have finished biting each other's heads off –?" Ron and Hermione fell into an irritable silence. "So, anyway," continued Harry, "what are we going to do about the necklace?"

"Even if we do manage to get it back, I hate having that thing near me." Ginny shuddered. "Didn't you say it had killed seventeen ex-owners? Oh – eighteen now, I s’pose..."

But she was interrupted by a loud Bang! as the kitchen door flew open. They all jumped, Harry nearly slipping off the table as his hand instinctively jumped towards his wand – but only Bill stood in the doorway, hair pulled back as always into a ponytail, and a suppressed grin on his face.

"What are you looking so happy about?" Ron said suspiciously, as Harry regained his balance. "And where's Fleur?"

"Did I hear you mention curses?" said Bill, ignoring Ron. "Great things, curses; Britain’s a bit boring, though, don't get half such sinister ones here as in Egypt."

"You want to bet?" muttered Harry under his breath.

"Harry!" said Bill, only just noticing him. "Aren't you supposed to be in Mungo's?"

"Oh - my leg's better now," lied Harry quickly. "They – er – let me out early."

Bill, casting Harry a sceptical look, seemed about to protest, but at that moment Hermione gave a sudden odd, excited squeak and everyone looked at her.

"Bill!" she said. "You, you can, you’re a curse-breaker! You do – Gringotts – Egypt – you break curses all the time!"

"She's sharp today, our Hermione," said Ron, raising his eyebrows. After a moment in which Harry wondered if Hermione had accidentally swallowed a Babbling Beverage, he jumped and nearly slid off the table again.

“That’s right!� he yelped. Hermione was on the right track – why on earth hadn't he thought of it before?

"Bill," he said quickly to the mystified man standing before them, making his mind up quickly (well, it was all over the papers now anyway), "Bill, d'you – do you know anything about Horcruxes?"

Bill stopped looking perplexed and frowned. He lowered himself slowly into the chair next to Ginny.

“It's my job, Harry, mate," he informed him. "I've dealt with them before, yeah – well, in theory only, but I might be able to help. What do you want me to do?"

"Destroy them?" said Harry tentatively. "Er – preferably without burning off any flesh," he added quickly, thinking of Dumbledore's blackened hand.

Bill thought about this for a few seconds, then said casually, "Should be able to, yeah. If I had a bit of time and knew a bit about the person whose Horcrux it was. I’m assuming you mean You-Know-Who?"

Harry nodded and looked at the others, a wide grin splitting his face.
"Amazing," he said fervently. "Could you do it now?"

Bill looked slightly taken aback. "Now? Hang on, Harry," he said hastily, scratching his ear so that his fang earring trembled. "I'll need to look up the incantations and background stuff, it's not that simple...and I only came down to grab a drink. I'm a – a bit busy right now. In fact, I should really be getting back upstairs –"

"If I fetch one now, when will you be ready?" Harry asked impatiently, then noticed Hermione's reproving expression. "Sorry," he said. "We've been waiting for this for a long –"

"Fetch one now?" repeated Bill, frowning. "Hang on. You have a Horcrux here? One of You-Know-Who's?"

"Yeah," said Ron casually. "It's in Harry's bedroom."

Bill whistled.

"I'll get it," said Harry, jumping off the table.

"Wait!" Bill half-rose from his chair and blocked Harry’s way, looking suddenly anxious. "Don’t go upstairs just yet –"

Harry, Ron, Ginny and the twins looked at him suspiciously.

"What've you been doing up there?" George glanced at the ceiling, a slow grin spreading over his face. "Not something Mum wouldn’t approve of, I hope..."

“It’s not something you need to know about,� said Bill shortly, standing up properly and making an almost imperceptible movement backwards, towards the doorway.

Fred clapped his hand on his elder brother's shoulder, pulling him forwards. "C'mon, Bill, let us know – we won't tell anyone.�

“Anyone you don’t know, anyway," said George.

"You'd damn well better not," said Bill quickly, shaking Fred’s hand away, a crease in his forehead kinking one of the scars on his face as he spread his arms across the doorway. “Stay in the kitchen, what’s happening upstairs is none of your business – I need to get back up there, but you all stay here or I’ll hex you to the floor –�

“Bill was always the softie,� Fred informed Harry, sliding casually off the table.

“Yeah, he likes to think we listen to him,� added George, jumping with a thud to the floor.

The chairs clattered as Bill pushed them back. "Listen to me, don't you dare go upstairs, any of you, I'm serious...Oi! Fred! George!" Bill made a grab for the twins as they ducked one after the other under his arms, but missed. "Ron, Ginny – Harry!" he yelled, as they sprinted, grinning, for the kitchen door. Bill pounded after them as they chased after the twins. "Get back down, you lot – Mum's not going to like this – don't –"

"Bill? What ees going on?" Harry skidded to a halt outside a large door on the first landing, behind which Fleur's anxious voice floated out to them. Fred and George had gone past it; returning hastily, they appeared behind him. Harry hesitated, his hand on the doorknob, but Fred threw him an exasperated glance, and shoved it open as Bill came hurtling up the stairs behind them.

All of them took an involuntary step backwards. The bare, bleak room was bathed in a flickering green light. A magically extended fireplace was host to a roaring emerald fire, and Fleur Delacour stood before it, her silvery-white hair reflecting the green glow of the flames. She was pointing her wand at the heart of the fire, as though she were waiting for something to burst through, and she gasped, her beautiful face bewildered, as they sidled cautiously into the room.

"Idiots," muttered Bill, pushing his way past them. "So much for a secret mission," he added, shaking his head and looking very odd with his scarred skin tinged green.

"What's the Floo for?" asked Hermione, cautiously eyeing the flames.

"Why are zey up here, Bill?" asked Fleur, seeming to only just recover her voice. "Did not your muzzer say, keep zis quiet from zem...?"

"I know what she said," said Bill testily. "It's not my fault –"

"Why does no one ever tell us anything?" demanded Harry. "We can cope, you know...We’re not weedy little first-years now, you know..."

"I never said you were, Harry,� said Bill calmly. “It wasn't my decision to keep you lot in the dark about this; we're doing something worse than illegal here and were hoping to surprise you, as well as protect ourselves...and you really should get out of this room before Mum gets back." Bill finished this all in one breath, looking harassed as he tried to shunt them backwards out of the door.

"Worse than illegal?" said Ron interestedly, sidestepping his brother easily. "Cool, so what are you doing?"

"That's it, get out!" ordered Bill, exasperated, reaching for his wand.

"C'mon, we've seen this much," wheedled Ginny. “You might as well tell us the rest.�

"And if it's anything to do with Moody and your dad," added Harry, "We already saw them in the Ministry about twenty minutes ago."

"You were in the Min – what the – I don't – you're lucky I'm not wiping your memories!" spluttered Bill angrily, waving his wand slightly aimlessly so that a few sparks shot out. “Now I’ll give you ten seconds to leave –�

"You were much more fun before you joined the Order," said Fred regretfully. "I dunno why, it didn't affect us."

"What, you're in the Order now?" Harry asked Fred, surprised. Of course, there was no reason now for them not to be, but Harry had had so much on his mind that he'd not even thought about it – and come to that, he was of age now, too...

"Yeah," said Fred, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "But if it makes us as grumpy as Bill, I'm going to quit."

Bill was looking exasperatedly from Fred to Harry as they talked over him. “That’s it,� he said, irritably, flicking his wand. Next moment, something heavy seemed to hit Harry in the stomach, knocking him forcibly backwards, out of the room. From the muffled “oofs� and groans around him, it sounded as though Bill had got them all square in the midriff. But before the door shut in their faces –

"Too late," said Fred, gasping from breath but grinning, as the green flames glowed brightly and leapt higher than before: a sure sign that someone was about to come through the Floo network.

Bill swore and whipped around, wand raised, not noticing the others pile straight back into the room as he stared into the flames.
"Come on," he muttered, pointing his wand cautiously at the fire. "Come on –" Bill broke off as the indistinct forms of at least a dozen people appeared, spinning, in the grate.

"Bill, it's safe – it ees zem!"

Staring eagerly at the fast-appearing group, Fleur and Bill lowered their wand. Harry and the others stepped backwards as what looked like a good three-quarters of the Order of the Phoenix stepped out of the fire, several more appearing from underneath Invisibility Cloaks. Charlie Weasley, Mad-Eye Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were there, among many others.

Bill, who had been scanning the group with anxious eyes, stepped forward, his wand hand dropping. "Where's –" he began worriedly.

"Right here, Bill," chuckled an invisible voice, and Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Hermione let out a little shriek of amazement as a bright-eyed, pink-cheeked Tonks swept off an Invisibility Cloak, Remus Lupin hanging onto her arm. He looked thin, pale and exhausted, with dark and almost bluish shadows around his eyes – but he was smiling widely, and seemed to be suppressing an urge to laugh.

Harry sank back against the wall. "Professor Lupin?" he said weakly, staring at his beaming ex-teacher in stunned disbelief as Mr Weasley threw some glittering white powder into the grate; the flames hissed and shrank to their normal size.

"Harry?" said a sharp voice, as Lupin looked over at him. Mrs Weasley appeared from behind Kingsley's broad frame. "What are you doing out of St. Mun–"

“And, for that matter,� added Mr Weasley quietly, “What on earth were you doing in the Ministry earlier?�

Mrs Weasley looked at her husband in surprise, then back at Harry and the others, and began to swell.

"It's okay, Mum," said Ginny hastily, before Mrs Weasley could start interrogating them. "We'll explain later...Professor, they didn’t, did they?" she asked Lupin, her eyes shining. "Break into Azkaban?"

Harry looked at Lupin for confirmation; still smiling, Lupin nodded. Mrs Weasley threw them a sharp glance but kept quiet.

"Operation successful," growled a familiar voice. Moody stumped forwards, pulling off his travelling cloak, his gash of a mouth twisting upwards. Lupin looked as though he still couldn't believe where he was, and the beaming Tonks wasn't taking her eyes off her husband as she hugged him closer to her side.

"But –" said Harry, the strangest sensation rising up in him, like a huge, melting bubble of relief and shock, "I – I can't believe it." He laughed oddly, feeling strangely unreal. Was all this a dream, was he still in his bed in St Mungo's?

He was about to pinch himself when Lupin assured him, "It's really me, Harry." He reached over and patted Harry on the shoulder. "I can hardly believe it myself...one moment I was sitting quietly in a cell in Azkaban feeling – er – well, let’s say, not my most cheerful. The next moment, this lot turned up. How in the name of Merlin did you manage to get the keys, by the way?" This question was directed at Mr Weasley, who was absent-mindedly turning the huge, dark-metalled keys to Azkaban over in his hands. Harry could almost feel the power radiating from those keys – he supposed that they must be bound up in some terrifically strong enchantments.

"Oh," said Mr Weasley, with an embarrassed glance at Harry and the others. "Er – later, Remus. That reminds me," he said hastily, as Harry, Ron and the twins opened their mouths to protest, "We'll need to send these back to the Ministry...by an untraceable owl, of course..."

"You did – er - lock up behind you, didn't you, Mr Weasley?" Hermione asked, looking slightly anxious.

"Oh yes, yes, it's all secure," Mr Weasley reassured her. “Just minus one prisoner! Yes, once we'd got the keys, it was easy; just connect the Azkaban Floo to Grimmauld Place, and hope that no one escaped while we were at it. We left guards, don't worry, Hermione," he added, gesturing at Bill and Fleur as she raised her eyebrows.

"Arthur, this was supposed to be a secret!" said Mrs Weasley exasperatedly. "For your protection, Harry dear," (Harry had begun to object again) "because, really, the fewer people that know about this the better. Now," she said fiercely, quelling all protests. "Why are you out of St. Mungo's, Harry, and Bill, why is this lot in the room at all?"

Bill raised his hands defensively. "Don't blame me," he told his mother. "They just ran up here, I couldn't help it."

"And I left Mungo's early," said Harry truthfully, though evading Mrs Weasley's eyes. "My leg was, well, nearly all right. And we needed to do – er – some things – in the Ministry – which we can’t really talk about," he added slightly lamely, thinking of Umbridge and the storm of multicoloured Chaotoballs, while ignoring the still-throbbing pain in his leg. Evidently thinking along the same lines, the twins sniggered. Harry strove to keep his face straight as everyone in the room looked at him.

"Well, as long as you're feeling all right, Harry, and forget everything you've seen in this room," said Mr Weasley, smiling, "then I think the most important thing to do right now is to go downstairs and get Remus something to eat – and a strong drink. Come to that, I wouldn’t say no to one either."

With a grateful glance round at the Order members, Lupin spoke again.
"I haven't yet thanked you," he said. "For all of you to come like that, to help me – you don't know how much it means to me –"

A jumbled roar of exasperated protest cut him off.

“You don’t need to thank us!� said Tonks indignantly. “I’m your wife!�

“What did you think we’d do, Remus, leave you to rot – or worse?� asked Bill. "Not on our watch. Come on, let’s get downstairs. I haven't eaten for hours."

In a rush of noise and cheerful chatter, the Order of the Phoenix moved toward the door. It was only slowly that it was really beginning to hit Harry – Lupin was at liberty again; Umbridge hadn't got him; there would be no trial, no death sentence! Harry saw his feelings mirrored on Ron's face, but Hermione was looking strangely pensive and worried as they made their way down the stairs.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" said Harry, his grin fading slightly as he looked at her. Hermione sighed.

"It's wonderful that Professor Lupin is back, of course," she said, "but we've still got to tell them what Neville saw...Professor McGonagall...you know." Hermione's voice wobbled.

"Yes," said Harry gently, as Ron patted her on the arm. "I hadn't forgotten. But leave it a couple of hours, it'd spoil the celebrations."

"No – Harry - they should know as soon as possible!" said Hermione quickly, but Harry and Ron didn't reply; already Mrs Weasley was at work with the frying pan, and the enticing smell of sausages and bacon filled the room. They didn't notice Hermione slipping out of the kitchen, taut-faced.

"Cheers to a safe return!" Mr Weasley was shouting, as he bewitched several bottles of champagne to pop open and glide around the room, filling people's goblets with slightly too much enthusiasm; Harry’s hand and sleeve were soon sopping wet with champagne. "And for getting the better of those old Ministry fools!"

Laughter and hearty applause filled the room. Tonks pulled Lupin forcibly towards her and kissed him, forgetting she still had her drink in her hand (he, too, was soon dripping with champagne). Harry and Ron cheered them on, grinning. Fred and George gave a celebratory whoop, clinking their crystal goblets together so hard that they smashed, and soon the sound of Mrs Weasley's yells added to the noise and confusion as the fizzy liquid rained down upon Ginny, Mundungus Fletcher, and all others close by.

"Sorry!" Fred apologised, mopping Ginny's drenched hair with a tea-towel he grabbed from the sink – the indignant Ginny fended him off with a slap – but at that moment someone grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him out of the room.

"Hermione!" said Harry, bewildered, as she yanked him, wild-eyed, into the hallway. "What's going –"

"Snape!" Hermione said breathlessly, wringing her hands, "Professor Snape, he's just come through the Floo – he's upstairs right now!"

"What?"

"He told me to get the Order, it's really urgent, but – but we'll need to explain that he's innocent!"

Harry stared at her. "He's really upstairs? You're not kidding me?" She shook her head, but before she could speak, a familiar voice reached Harry's ears.

"Hurry, Potter, get a move on!" Looking up, Harry saw with a jolt the familiar sallow-face and greasy black hair of his ex-Potions teacher. "Alert the Order," Snape hissed, leaning over the banister. "I'm saving all your skins here, so I'd appreciate it if you'd tell them not to attack upon sight. Now go!"

But Harry's legs seemed to have frozen to the ground. "What's happened?" he asked quickly, suddenly filled with cold dread. "And how did you get in?"

"Harry, come on!" Hermione moaned, tugging his arm.

But at that moment, the kitchen door swung open and Mrs Weasley come into the hallway. "Harry, Hermione? What are you –" Then she screamed.

"Snape!" she shrieked, horrified, grabbing Harry and pushing him into the safety of the drawing room. "Severus Snape! Oh my – Arthur! Alastor! Kingsley! Protego! Stupefy! STUPEFY!"

Suddenly every member of the Order of the Phoenix was in the hallway. Snape swiftly withdrew his head, as Mrs Weasley’s stunning spells bounced harmlessly off the banister, but it was too late: alarmed shouts filled the hall, and soon every wand was drawn.

"STOP!"Harry bellowed at the top of his lungs, pushing his way in panic out of the drawing room. "Wait, don't do anything – he's on our side! He’s ON OUR SIDE!"