Hogwarts was burning.

Multicoloured flames rose hundreds of feet into the night sky as towers toppled and crashed to the ground. Ghosts stood and watched mournfully, or drifted away silently, powerless to do anything about the catastrophe unfolding before them.

Bodies of students and teachers littered the ground.

Everyone was dead. Sirius, Dumbledore, Hermione, all the Weasleys, Hagrid, and Ginny, dear Ginny - everyone. The Ministry lay in ruins, Muggles were enslaved, and everyone Harry had ever known was dead.

They had all died by Harry’s wand, with Harry’s hand holding it.

He laughed as he watched the flames light up the sky. The scar on his head burned as bright as the fires, and Voldemort’s voice was in his mind.

“See, Harry?” he screamed. “See what we can do? Nothing and nobody can stop us. YOU ARE MY HORCRUX AND I CAN MAKE YOU DO ANYTHING!”

Harry flung himself upright in bed, sweat pouring from every part of his body. His heart was thumping as he sucked in lungful after lungful of cold morning air. All his limbs shook and his scar still burned fiercely.

“Happy Birthday!”

He jumped as the door in front of him swung open and Ginny and young Sirius walked in. She was carrying a full breakfast tray and Sirius held a colourfully wrapped box as big as his head in both arms.

“Happy birthday, Daddy!” repeated Sirius, just to make sure he had heard. “I got you a present!”

He ran over to the bed, struggling to hold the box out in front, and then tried to climb up without releasing his grip. A frown replaced Ginny’s smile as she noticed Harry’s wild look.

“Harry, are you okay?” she asked, suddenly looking concerned. “Did we scare you?”

Harry shook his head as he forced a smile and leaned over to sweep Sirius, present and all, onto the bed. His heart was slowing down and the memory of the dream was fading, to be replaced with the joy he had come to know as a normal part of everyday life. He did not immediately answer her, and turned his full attention to his son.

“What have you got there, sport?” he asked the squirming boy. “Is it for me?”

“It’s a birthday present,” the four-year-old replied, twisting and wriggling to keep from Harry's tickling. “And you’ll only get it if you are good!” he added seriously, in a good imitation of his mum.

Obviously, he had been told the same thing many times before.

“Oh, I will have to be good will I? We’ll just see about that!” laughed Harry. Then he began to rigorously tickle Sirius, laughing as the boy squealed with delight while refusing to let go of the box.

“Stop, Daddy stop!” Sirius cried through his laughter. “Mummy, make him stop.”

“All right, that’s enough, Harry,” said Ginny. “Let him give you his present and then you can have some breakfast.” She was smiling again as she put the tray down on the side table, but was obviously still concerned.

Harry smelled the bacon and eggs and his stomach gave a rumble, indicating it agreed with Ginny. With a final tickle he released Sirius who sat up to present the box that Harry now saw was covered with little moving cartoon images of people playing Quidditch, and had a ribbon wrapped around it.

“I picked it out,” Sirius told him proudly. “Mummy helped me wrap it,” he added hastily, with a look to his mother as she sat down on the bed next to them.

“Oh, well then, I had better be careful when I unwrap it, hadn’t I?” said Harry seriously. He started to slowly undo the ribbon, showing exaggerated care. After only a second or two of this, Sirius was impatiently urging him on.

“Come on, Daddy! Hurry!” he laughed, and started tugging at the paper to help.

“Okay then,” said Harry, and abruptly began tearing wildly into the wrapping, tossing pieces high into the air. Sirius laughed and excitedly joined in. Soon they were both covered in bits of paper, and so was much of the bed. Even Ginny had a piece or two in her hair.

“It’s just what I always wanted, a brown box!” said Harry, playfully holding the box up for all to see. “I can put all sorts of things in that. Thank you!”

Ginny was truly smiling again now as the boy put his hands on his hips and told Harry in another imitation of exasperated patience.

“No, silly, INSIDE the box!”

“Oh," said Harry in feigning understanding. "Let’s have a look then shall we?”

He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and slowly and carefully opened the lid of the box. Sirius stretched as far as he could to see what was inside.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he reached in and drew out a magnificent crystal orb. Inside the orb was an image of a golden phoenix in flight, its plumage spreading a rainbow of colours as the light fell on it. At the touch of his hand, a soft music filled the room. It was eerie, spine tingling, and unearthly. It lifted the hair on Harry's scalp and made his heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size. It was the phoenix’s song, just as he had heard it for the first time many years before while trapped in an underground chamber facing his mortal enemy, and a few times since. Unbidden tears filled Harry’s eyes and he looked at Ginny. A slow trickle ran down her cheek too.

“Did you…?” he began to ask.

“No,” she replied, wiping away the tear. “He really did pick it himself.”

“It’s just like the one that saved you and mummy,” Sirius told him, stroking the top of the orb gently.

“It’s beautiful,” said Harry, carefully placing it back into the box. “Thank you.” Then he grabbed Sirius and Ginny in a heartfelt hug that quickly turned into a three-way wrestling match, as usual.

“Okay, okay,” said Ginny, breaking away. “Come on Sirius, time to leave Daddy enjoy his breakfast and clean up the kitchen.” She picked the protesting boy off the bed and pushed him towards the door. “Then go feed the animals; they are probably starving by now!”

As soon as Sirius obediently headed off out of the room, Ginny turned back to Harry.

“Are you all right?”

Harry tore his eyes away from the orb and looked at his wife. “Yeah, just a bad dream, that’s all,” he said negligently. She was not convinced.

“It was about Voldemort, wasn’t it?” she asked.

Harry was shocked. It was not often he heard that name from Ginny, and not without good cause.

“Why do you say that?” he asked, trying to sound scornful.

“Your scar is bleeding.”

Harry’s hand shot to his forehead involuntarily, but came away clean. He looked at her puzzled, then realised she had tricked him.

“I knew it,” she said sadly, sitting down on the edge of the bed and picking up a piece of toast. “I have been expecting it you know.”

“What do you mean?” He was not sure how she had known, though she did know him better than anybody did. He had long ago given up trying to understand how she could become so close to him that she could guess his every thought and mood. Sometimes it was as if she had cast a Legilimency spell on him, while he felt as if he barely knew what the strange creature who had stolen his heart was, let alone how she was feeling.

“It’s ten years.”

“Oh,” he said, “I didn’t realise it had been that long.” He had known, but in a 'back of your mind' sort of way. It had not been a big issue to him.

“Not consciously,” she added, “but obviously your heart knew.”

He sat back thoughtfully and picked at a bit of the bacon, not hungry anymore.

Ginny sat quietly watching him and nibbled her toast. She knew the turmoil of thoughts that would be going through his mind now; it was inevitable. In the years they had been together since his final confrontation with the greatest evil and worst threat the world had ever known, she had often wondered how he had managed to stay sane, let alone be the kind and wonderful father of her children.

As if on queue from the thought of her children, there came a loud crash from the kitchen. Farther off in the nursery, the baby started crying.

Harry couldn’t help but smile as Ginny rolled her eyes and stood up to go.

“Where’s my present from you?” he asked her playfully.

She bent over and placed a lingering kiss on his lips. He breathed in her soft, flowery scent; it made his head swim.

"Later,” she teased, and turned to leave the room. “Don’t stay in bed too long,” she called over her shoulder. “We’ve got dinner at Mum’s house tonight, and everybody is going to be there, so it is going to be the usual chaos. You have a lot to do before we go.”

“Excellent!” he called out. He loved big get-togethers with her family.

The sight of more than a dozen adults and almost as many children warmed his heart like nothing else. Ron, who had lived with that sort of thing his whole life and seemed immune to it, thought it had something to do with never having a proper family while he was growing up. Harry did not care. He had a family now, and it included both of his best friends as well as Molly and Arthur Weasley, who had been more than in-laws to him for a long time.

Harry sat chewing some bacon and stared at the orb. As he stroked it gently with a single finger, its soft song sang from the box.

Ten years he thought. Sometimes it seemed like yesterday. Other times it seemed a lifetime ago. Unconsciously his hand rose to his forehead and touched his scar again. It didn’t feel hot anymore, although it did seem more prominent than usual.

Ten years since he found he didn’t have a piece of Voldemort’s soul in him.

Ten years since he opened the door in the Ministry and released a wave of magic that had almost killed him while it burned away the vile thing that Voldemort had become, along with his Dementors.

Ten years.

Harry rose from bed and began to dress. He still wore mostly Muggle clothes when he wasn’t working; an affection left over from a childhood spent not knowing he was a wizard. Despite being Tuesday, Harry did not officially have to go to work today.

A perk of the office, he thought. One of the few, if you were honest.

As he dressed, he idly wondered what had become of Dudley Dursley and his parents.

Halloween was suddenly upon them.

Five years ago, a group had lobbied the Ministry to call the day Harry Potter Day, and to make it a national holiday. Harry had been quite embarrassed and had campaigned vigorously to call it Dumbledore Day instead.

In the end, they reached a compromise and, in typical wizarding fashion, agreed to call it “Celebration of Victory Enjoyed Nationally Day”, or C.O.V.E.N. day.

This had marked Harry's entry into politics and started him down the road that, just two years ago, had resulted in him reluctantly becoming the youngest Minister for Magic in history.

People still called it Harry Potter Day though, and it still embarrassed him.

The day was celebrated the world over, but the highlight was the festival and evening fireworks at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The school grounds were thrown open to the public and the biggest wizarding festival in the world was set up. Magical rides that hung in the air without any visible means of support took children and adults alike screaming through the twists and turns of a rollercoaster. Performers and actors worked through the crowd performing elaborate pantomimes and dramas. Jugglers and acrobats put on death defying shows, and a multitude of stalls lined the large grassed paddock.

The climax was the Weasley twins’ fireworks spectacular. Every year they would showcase their best and newest creations in the sky above the great lake and awe the hundreds of wizard families who came to watch.

The twins had outdone themselves this year. The fireworks were beyond incredible. Dragons swept through the sky on wings of fire trailing shooting stars, then fought burning demons and bright heroes in battles exploding with effects; sometimes winning, sometimes not. Massive rainbow coloured pinwheels cartwheeled overhead and off into the distance where they grew fainter and fainter until flaring up for a final burst before they disappeared. Minute after minute, the night was chased away by bigger and bigger explosions that drowned out the startled gasps and appreciative ohs and ahs of the crowd, and left many people hastily blocking their ears for fear of deafness. Hogwarts itself was represented in a detailed display whose burning image made Harry feel a slight twinge of unease.

“Wait for the finale,” shouted George, who was standing nearby.

Suddenly a deep male voice, magically amplified, boomed out over all the noise of the crowd.

“AMORSMORDRE!"”

Something vast, green, and glittering erupted into the sky, banishing all the other fireworks. A colossal skull and a snake, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, appeared in the sky.

The Dark Mark.

Instantly Harry’s wand was in his hand, and he wasn’t the only one. All around him people were screaming and wands were drawn. His unofficial bodyguard of Aurors rushed to surround him with their wands pointing in every direction. Mothers grabbed their children and clutched them to their chests.

Then Harry noticed something was wrong with the symbol people had come to recognise and fear as Voldemort’s signature. Instead of the snake protruding from the mouth of the skull like a tongue, it was quite rudely sticking out of the skull’s nose! The skull itself was not quite right, as it somehow conspired to look cross-eyed.

Harry turned to Fred and George and saw they didn’t look worried at all. They stood watching the sky, smiling as if nothing was wrong.

“You didn’t!” said Harry, looking back at the skull.

Slowly the image blurred. The skull seemed to swell and the snake straightened. Many people stopped panicking and turned to watch what was happening. The skull continued to change until it no longer looked like a skull at all.

It looked like a giant love heart with an arrow sticking through it.

Then it burst into the brightest light yet, making everyone shield their eyes and blink for minutes afterwards. Harry, wand still in hand, felt something fall onto his head and he instinctively caught it. It was a lolly. All around him, people were talking excitedly, some happily, and others angrily, but nobody was screaming anymore. Children began to run around and collect the candy that was drifting to the ground like soft feathers.

“What did you think?” asked Fred, looking at Harry.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a shrill yell from behind him.

“What the blazes do you think you are doing, you two?” shouted a bushy haired witch, rushing towards them, wand held out dangerously in front of her.

“Calm down Hermione. Just a bit of fun,” said George, warily eyeing the wand pointed directly at his chest.

“Yeah, we figured it was appropriate,” added Fred, smiling broadly.

“APPROPRIATE? YOU SCARED PEOPLE HALF TO DEATH!” she shouted, angrily waving her wand to emphasise her words. “IT WAS THE MOST INAPPROPRIATE THING I HAVE EVER SEEN!”

Harry could not help smiling at the sight of Hermione scolding the twins. He was still shaking slightly from the adrenaline overload fear had given him a few moments ago, but relief now made him smile in spite of himself.

“Don’t look too scared to me,” commented George, nodding towards a group of children running past. “Looks like they thought it were a great lark.”

“A LARK!” she shouted, ignoring the children. “YOU THINK CONJURING THE DARK MARK IS A LAUGH?”

“Well it was, wasn’t it?”

Hermione looked as if she was going to start shouting again, or explode, but changed her mind and visibly got control of herself before continuing.

“Conjuring the Dark Mark is against the law,” she said.

“But it wasn’t actually the Mark,” laughed Fred.

“That’s not the point-” started Hermione.

“Actually," interrupted Harry, "it is the point.”

Hermione was obviously upset but he did not want this to turn into a public row.

“What?” She turned on him. “You of all people should be the last to defend them over this. What about Dumbledore and all the others that were killed under that horrid thing?”

Harry put his wand back into a pocket of his robes, and started to unwrap the sweet he had caught.

“Dumbledore might not have thought it was a lark, but he would have enjoyed the sweet,” said Harry popping the lolly into his mouth. “And more to the point, we have all been scared of that thing for far too long. The Death Eaters are gone and, when they were here, fear caused more damage than their wands.”

Hermione look thoughtful, but still ready to argue.

“It’s like saying Voldemort’s name, Hermione.” Harry added calmly. “Everybody was too scared, but that just made it worse.”

He looked over towards the twins.

“I thought it was great, but next time I could do with a bit of a warning. Do you have any idea how much trouble this is going to cause for the Ministry tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t have been a surprise then would it?” they laughed, and walked away. "Wait for next year!"

“I swear I am going to have Kingsley lock them up one day,” said Hermione, watching them stroll away.

Harry laughed and grabbed her into a hug. Once she got over the initial surprise, she hugged him back warmly, to the scandalous looks of passers-by.

Many people still thought it was inappropriate for the Minister of Magic to be so close and personal with the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but then his father in-law was head of Muggle Relations, a brother in-law was high up in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and he was close personal friends with a dozen other people in the Ministry.

Most people knew Harry’s history, and claims of nepotism rarely made the papers anymore, so he was not expecting a report of him hugging Hermione to cause any trouble, not with the fireworks stunt sure to grab headlines.

“Oh Harry,” said Hermione, releasing him and stepping back, but still holding his hands. Tears were in her eyes now, in place of rage. She looked like she wanted to say more, but Harry stopped her.

“It’s all right Hermione,” he said. “It’s all gone now. We caught them, and he is not coming back.”

“But we didn’t get them all,” she said seriously.

Like him, Hermione did not believe Snape was dead, and the two of them and Ron knew at least one Death Eater who had escaped. There were bound to be more; ones that nobody knew about, or new ones that fell for old lies. Ron had wanted the three of them to dedicate their lives to becoming Aurors and chasing them all down. Harry had not felt the need he once had to avenge all the people that had lost their lives, and then Hermione had distracted Ron with a set of red haired twins that took up all of his time. Ron made a much better home husband and Quidditch player than Auror anyway.

“No, not all of them, but close enough,” Harry said. “Close enough.”

Later, Harry left the other officials and special guests, who were raving about the fireworks finale, and went looking for Ginny and his family. He found them near the edge of the lake with the rest of the Weasley clan. Molly was yet again scandalised by her sons, and even Arthur thought they might have gone a bit too far this time. The children all thought it was fantastic and were busy swapping and eating the sweets they had collected.

They said their goodbyes and started to move off towards one of the many exit points. Harry found himself looking back over his shoulder at the school that had shaped so much of his life. Ginny saw this and turned to him, again anticipating his needs before he had even thought them out himself.

“Go,” she said, taking the baby from him. “I’ll take the children home and put them to bed. You go, but don’t stay out too long.”

Harry kissed her gratefully and turned to walk back towards the lake. A few people called out greetings, or waved, while others just watched as he walked by.

As he approached the white marble tomb where Dumbledore lay, he found himself wondering if here was the best place to hold celebrations. It did not seem right to have people laughing and having fun so close to a place that brought him so much sadness.

A small white fence now stood around the tomb to keep people off. Several streamers hung from the pickets, and Harry idly pulled at one.

“Hello professor,” he said, finally looking directly at the tomb.

He wanted to say more, to talk about everything that had happened in the years since he had watched, powerless, as Snape threw the killing curse that ended this great man’s life. As always his throat tightened, and he found he could not go on. Time had not healed this wound, and probably never would.

Abruptly he turned and walked towards the main gates. Once he was past the magical barrier he would be able to Apparate home, and he felt an urgent need to see his children put to bed, and to hold his wife closely.

As soon as Harry appeared, he knew something was wrong. Instead of standing outside his house in Godric’s Hollow, he was standing in front of a grey wall. For a confused second he was not sure what he was looking at, and then he recognised it.

It was not a wall, but a towering marble headstone, and the name on it was Tom Riddle.

Ripping his wand from his robes he spun around and dropped into a crouch, just as a blow slammed into the side of his head. He cried out in pain and slumped to the ground, barely conscious.

Through blurred vision, he saw a figure standing above him holding a club in the air, ready to strike again.

“Hello Potter,” drawled a voice from Harry’s past. “Have you missed me?”

Then Draco Malfoy brought the club down onto Harry’s head again, and Harry saw no more.

Harry woke when the water hit his face. The pain in his head as he spluttered and choked on the water nearly knocked him out again, but another bucketful hit him just as he started to slip back into oblivion.

“Wake up, Potter! We haven’t got all night you know!”

Harry tried to raise his head, but dizziness overwhelmed him, and he slumped back down. It felt like he was lying on the ground on his side and for some reason he could not move his arms.

“You hit him too many times, Draco,” said a voice to Harry’s left.

“SHUT UP!” screamed the first voice, “OR I’LL HIT YOU TOO.”

Harry again tried to lift his head, but only managed to roll it around a bit. A hand grabbed his hair and roughly pulled his head back, so that he was facing upwards. The pain was excruciating, but he did not pass out. His vision was too blurred to make out anything except the broad outline of a face a few inches from his own, and his mind refused to make the connection between what he had last seen and just heard.

“Come on, Potter. WAKE UP,” screamed the voice, and then somebody started slapping his face.

“It’s no good, Draco. You’ll just have to wait a bit more if you want him awake for it,” said a different voice.

“Just do it now,” said a third voice to Harry’s right.

Then it seemed all around him, voices started talking and shouting, arguing about something, but Harry could not follow what they were saying. The hand holding his hair abruptly let go and, since his hands were tied behind his back, he could do nothing to stop his head from making painful contact with the ground.

Harry concentrated, forcing his thoughts into focus. He had been knocked out, he knew that. The festival, then Dumbledore, then home. No, he didn’t make it home. The grey tombstone, Tom Riddles gravestone, and then Draco Malfoy hitting him! It all came back in a rush. Harry felt panic start to rise, and his stomach felt sick.

“Just shut up all of you!” yelled Malfoy above the other voices. Obediently the other voices disappeared. “This is MY plan and it is going to be done MY way. If any of you have a problem with that, you can leave RIGHT NOW.”

Harry strained to look around without lifting his head. Without his glasses, he could not see clearly, but he could make out three or four black robed figures standing in a rough semicircle around Malfoy. All of them seemed to be wearing hoods and masks, except for Draco, whose white hair stood out against the black robes and night sky like a beacon. There was light coming from torches standing on top of posts, but Harry could not make out any more about the figures.

“And what exactly is your plan, Draco?” came another voice from behind Harry.

Draco spun around and pointed his wand in the direction of the new voice. Two of the black robed figures drew their wands too, but a third stepped backwards, as if about to run.

“Well, well, well,” said Malfoy. “Can’t say I’m surprised to see you here. You always did have the knack of showing up at the last second to steal my glory. How have you been, Severus?”

Snape! thought Harry. Snape was here. He and Hermione were right; Snape had been alive all these years.

Harry tried to twist his head, but was unable to see anything more. Desperately he started pulling at the ropes holding his hands together.

“I have been well, Draco, and how have you been? Last I heard you were hiding in a sewer, I believe. Make any new friends?”

“If I had done, I could be sure they would have been more loyal than some of my previous friends,” spat Draco, not lowering his wand.

Harry thought he felt the ropes start to give way at his feeble tugging. He doubled his efforts without making it too obvious. If they kept talking and ignored him, he might be able to get a hand free. Without any idea where his wand was he was not sure how that helped, but it had to be better than just lying here and letting them do whatever it was they had planned.

“Speaking of which, I see you have brought a few old ones along. Hello, Goyle. Hello, Nott.” said Snape, walking past Draco to talk to the robed figures behind him.

Two of the figures shifted nervously, obviously unnerved by Snape seeing through their disguise. The third one took another step backwards away from the others.

“Where is Crabbe, Draco? Couldn’t you tear him away from his job? I hear he is quite enjoying his employment at Azkaban. Who would have thought it eh? Who could have imagined the son of a notorious Death Eater, and best friend of another, becoming an Azkaban guard?” Snape suddenly spun to face Malfoy.

“Of course, I always figured he would end up there, just not as a Ministry employee,” he added.

Harry could feel one of his hands starting to slip free of the rope. Whoever had tied him had done a poor job. A few more seconds and he would be free, although he still wasn’t sure what he would do then.

“Funny, Severus, very funny.” Malfoy hissed with sarcasm. “Is that how you found us? Did you turn your vaulted mind reading powers on him and find out where I would be?”

Snape hesitated a second before answering. Harry could not make out faces without his glasses, but he could have sworn Snape was looking past Malfoy and directly at him.

Quickly Harry tried to block his thoughts. He had never successfully kept Snape out of his mind before, and his lessons were more than decade ago, but he had thought about it many times. If he had been able to block his mind properly, many things may have worked out differently. Harry raised his head off the ground and then dropped it back as hard as he dared. Pain flooded his thoughts and threatened to sink him into darkness again.

“No, Draco, I had no need to resort to such methods,” continued Snape, after a moment’s hesitation. “I had a much better guide!”

Although Harry’s sight was even worse after the attempt to keep his thoughts hidden, he saw Snape raise his right arm and pull back the sleeve of his robe. Draco suddenly grabbed his own sleeve and pulled it back.

“What is it, Draco?” asked the robed figure standing furthest away.

“And who is your new friend, Draco? Aren’t you going to introduce me?” asked Snape, turning to look at the Death Eater who had asked the question.

Draco mumbled something and kept staring at his arm.

With Snape no longer watching him, Harry started trying to pull his hand free again.

“It is the Dark Mark, you ignorant young fool,” Snape told the Death Eater. “The Dark Lord burned into the flesh of all of his worthy followers a hidden symbol that would bind us to him, and to each other. When he summoned us, it would turn black.”

“But what does it mean now?” asked the third figure, undeterred by Snape’s implied insult.

“It means I will succeed,” said Draco quietly, still looking at his arm. “It is almost black, which means tonight, the Dark Lord will return.”

Harry stopped tugging at his bindings. Draco had to have lost his mind.

Voldemort was dead; destroyed by the power of love the Ministry had kept in a sealed room in the Department of Mysteries. Harry had watched with his own eyes as everything that made Voldemort what he was had been melted away by a force he could not comprehend, let alone hope to battle.

Harry himself had barely survived the encounter.

In the end, it was only fact that he had an enormous capacity for love that kept him alive. Raised by unloving guardians, tormented and isolated for most of his childhood, Harry had found love, only to have it torn from him repeatedly by murder. He could still love, even after that, but Voldemort did not have that ability.

Harry had accepted the overwhelming emotion instead of fighting it. It had filled him beyond full, and threatened to burn him out like a candle in a furnace, but it did not kill him.

Voldemort could not have survived that. All the parts of his soul that he had ripped out and hidden were destroyed, along with the evil flesh that Wormtail’s magic had raised and Voldemort’s spirit had inhabited.

“What are you talking about, Draco?” snapped Snape. “What madness has gotten into you?”

Draco laughed, almost hysterically.

“What’s the matter, Severus? Afraid to face the Dark Lord again, since you failed him last time?”

Harry kept pulling at his bindings. He was sure one hand was working free. He could feel the rope loosening slowly as he worked at it.

“I am afraid you have finally lost your mind completely,” answered Snape, in the venomous voice Harry remembered so well. Snape had used that same tone on Harry almost daily for the six years they spent at Hogwarts as student and teacher. It made him want to leap up and strangle the arrogant git.

The two figures that Harry now knew were Nott and Goyle mumbled angrily and took a step towards Snape. Obviously, they too still held feelings about Snape’s manner, or maybe they were just reacting to the insult Snape had directed towards their leader. In either case, Malfoy didn’t seem to be affected by it.

“Possibly you are right, Severus,” Malfoy laughed, “but I have not spent my time wandering the world looking for a place to live out my days in peace like you have, oh no!”

Snape hissed venomously at these words, but Malfoy continued his gloating.

“I have found out more about the Dark Lord’s experiments to avoid death than anybody else could possibly have, even Dumbledore,” he said, obviously wanting to flaunt his superiority.

Harry’s hand was almost free. He could feel his wrist bleeding from the cuts the rope had made while he struggled. The blood was working as a lubricant and his thumb was almost out.

One good heave should get it, Harry thought, panting with effort.

He still did not know what he was going to do even if he did get his hand free. At least the pain in his head had subsided, or he was getting used to it. Pain had been a stranger to Harry for years now, and his tolerance had dropped considerably since his Quidditch playing days.

“Among his many desperate, and sometimes pathetic attempts, I found an object he had created to be used if the unthinkable should happen, which it did, thanks to POTTER!” Malfoy shouted the last word and pointed his wand at Harry.

There was a flash of light, and suddenly thick ropes bound Harry from head to foot. He lost control and screamed in anger and frustration at losing his only chance.

“You fool, Malfoy. Didn’t you learn anything from the last time? If you bring him back he will just kill you, LIKE HE DID YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER!”

“SHUT UP, POTTER!” screamed Malfoy, waving his wand angrily. A cloth gag appeared in Harry’s mouth, silencing him.

Harry was ready to sob in despair.

He had suspected the Horcruxes were not the only safeguard Voldemort had prepared to avoid death. Now Malfoy was confirming his worse fears, and Harry didn’t doubt him. Voldemort had left something behind that would bring him back from the dead, and there was nothing Harry could do to stop him.

Everybody was pointing their wands at Harry now, except for the smaller figure that had stayed behind, the one that had questioned the Dark Mark.

Harry slumped back down on the ground, forgetting the repeated blows he had already taken, and immediately regretted his carelessness as pain again shot through his head.

“So, Draco,” said Snape, lowering his wand. “You found the Resurrection Ring, did you?”

Harry heard Draco and the others gasp. Obviously, they had not expected Snape, or anybody, to know that name. Harry had no idea what it was, but the name seemed to speak for itself.

“You know, of course, that it is useless without a hand to put it on, don’t you?”

“How do you know about that, Severus? Nobody could know. Nobody!” declared Malfoy, pointing his wand at Snape again.

“My dear boy,” continued Snape in his most patronising tone, “I was not called the Dark Lord’s favourite for nothing. He told me many of his most cherished secrets. After all, it would be pointless to go to all of the trouble of making such an artefact, if you don’t tell somebody how to use it, wouldn't it?”

Harry could tell Malfoy was taken aback, but he didn’t let it slow him down.

“I bet he didn’t tell you where to find it though did he, Severus?” smirked Malfoy.

There was a slight hesitation before Snape answered, and Harry wondered how deeply Malfoy’s barb had struck. The best he could hope for now was that the two of them would start fighting and kill each other. It was a bit much to wish for, but it was all he had.

He twisted his head and started to look around. He was lying close to where he had Apparated, on top of Tom Riddle’s grave, with the headstone near his feet. Harry could just make out an arm of his glasses a few feet away. Desperate to do something, Harry began concentrating on it.

Accio glasses, he thought. The arm didn’t move.

Although he had mastered the summoning charm years ago and used it almost daily, he had rarely done it without speaking the words, and never without his wand.

“No, Draco, I must congratulate you on finding it. I believe the Dark Lord had intended on divulging the location to me, but was interrupted by his untimely demise.”

Harry did not know if Snape was lying, and he did not really care.

ACCIO glasses! he thought with more force. The arm sticking up into the air twitched slightly.

“Draco,” said Goyle, speaking for the first time. “It’s getting close to time.”

Draco glanced at his watch, and then to where Harry was lying.

“Get the cauldron and the other stuff. We’ll do it here, on the stroke of midnight as I planned,” he ordered. Goyle and Nott nodded and walked out of Harry’s view, but Harry did not turn to watch where they had gone. Instead, he concentrated on the glasses.

ACCIO GLASSES, he screamed in his mind, and mouthed through the gag.

His glasses sprung up and landed on his face!

“Why tonight, Draco?” asked Snape, “and what is Potter doing here? Surely you can’t be planning on getting around the inconvenient fact that you don’t have the Dark Lord’s body by using Potter’s corpse?”

Harry could not help himself, and looked directly at Malfoy. Was that it? Was he planning on killing Harry, then using his body and some strange artefact to bring Voldemort back to life?

“No, Severus, not his corpse, but his blood!” laughed Malfoy, not looking at Harry.

Snape was about to say something but stopped himself. Nott and Goyle had returned and were carrying a large cauldron between them.

Harry thought he recognised it from the last time he had stood on this very spot fourteen years ago. It was the cauldron Wormtail had used to return Voldemort to his body the first time.

“Very clever, Draco,” said Snape, “but it will not be enough.”

“SHUT UP, SNAPE!” screamed Draco, suddenly infuriated. “YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT I AM DOING, SO SHUT UP!”

With his glasses on Harry could see that Draco did not look well. The skin of his once handsome face was drawn tight over his high cheekbones, and his eyes had an unremitting look of madness in them. Nott and Goyle stepped back, and Harry thought he could see panic in their eyes through the Death Eater masks they wore. The third Death Eater still hung back, as if afraid to take part, but more afraid to run away.

If Harry was still hoping for an all out brawl, Snape’s next words crushed that hope.

“You are right, Draco,” he said almost humbly, bowing his head. “This is your party, and I am here only to help you in anyway I can.”

Draco did not lower his wand, but looked thoughtfully at Snape.

“Excellent, Severus, excellent,” he said, in voice that was far too calm when compared to the raving he done just moments before. The insane look had not left his eyes, but he seemed in control now. “Then I have a task for you. Stand Potter up and tie him to the stone.”

Snape bowed his head again, and walked over to where Harry lay.

Desperately, Harry started searching for his wand. Since he had managed to summon his glasses, he might be able to get it and somehow fight his way out of this situation. It had been in his hand just before he was hit, so it should not be too far away.

Snape reached Harry, and bent down over him. He fumbled at Harry’s back for a second, apparently tightening the original ropes that bound Harry’s hands, and then he roughly grabbed Harry and hauled him upright.

Harry didn’t pass out from the vertigo brought on by the sudden motion, but he deliberately let his legs go limp so that Snape would have to hold his whole weight. He didn’t know why, but he figured the weaker they thought he was, the more chances he might get to do something.

Snape grunted at Harry’s unexpected weight and called Nott and Goyle over to help. With the two of them holding Harry by his arms, Snape removed the thick ropes, and then retied them around the headstone, to hold Harry upright. Harry slumped in the ropes, hoping to be able to gain some slack when he took his weight onto his own feet.

Malfoy was working the cauldron, casting spell after spell. The water in it began to bubble and glow with a green light that shone onto Malfoy’s face, making it look even more sinister. Harry could see the third Death Eater standing behind Malfoy with a box in his hands. Now and then, Malfoy would hold his hand out behind him, and the Death Eater would put something into to, which Malfoy then added to the potion. Sometimes it looked like plants. Other times it was obviously something dead. The whole time, Malfoy was chanting under his breath.

Snape, Nott, and Goyle had moved to stand to one side of Malfoy while he stirred the contents of the cauldron. Snape watched with an almost clinical interest, as if they were back in school and Malfoy was preparing a potion for an exam. Nott and Goyle looked on excitedly and occasionally added a spell of their own.

Harry dropped his head, as if barely able to hold it up, and searched the ground for his wand. At the same time he started trying to work his hands loose again. As he had hoped when Snape had tied him up, leaning his full weight against the ropes had given him the tiniest bit of slack to work with. The gag in his mouth was drying all of his spit and making him desperately thirsty, his head still pounded, and something sharp was sticking into his back, but he had to keep trying.

Suddenly the cauldron gave out a loud crack, and a cloud of smoke rose into the air, enveloping Malfoy’s head. Harry’s heart leapt for joy and he looked up automatically. Something had gone wrong!

Then the smoke cleared, and he could see Malfoy still chanting and holding something above the cauldron in both hands. Smoke was flowing out of the pot and rising through the thing he held before disappearing into the sky. The Death Eaters stirred nervously as the chanting grew louder.

The light from the boiling pot turned a deep red, making Malfoy’s face appear demonic. Then he smiled, and then took his hands away. Floating in front of him was what looked to Harry like a shining metal ring about the size of a man’s wrist. Malfoy stepped back from the cauldron and stopped casting spells.

“See, Severus,” he said, not taking his eyes off the floating object. “In a short while I will complete the summoning and the Dark Lord will stand before me.”

“Why wait, Draco? Moreover, do you really need Potter? Is he here just to witness, and then run off and warn the world, like last time?” asked Snape.

Malfoy tore his eyes from the cauldron and shot Snape a purely malevolent look.

“No, I am not that arrogant. Potter is here for a very important task, and I need to wait until midnight on this night because, as you well know, Halloween is when the veil between life and death is at its thinnest.” Draco’s voice drawled in an almost normal manner as he spoke these words, but he was obviously enjoying explaining his plan.

Glorying in his victory before it happens, thought Harry.

Draco raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

Harry tried to scream as the surface of the grave at his feet cracked.

It was happening again, almost exactly as it had over a decade ago. He could not believe Draco was going to try the same spell that Wormtail had used to bring back Voldemort’s adult body.

Harry struggled to free his hands as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air and then fell softly into the cauldron. Sparks flew in all directions, and the light turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

Nott walked over to Harry holding a silver dagger and a glass vial.

Something pointy was still poking into Harry's back. As he squirmed, it dug into his flesh painfully.

Again Harry was helpless to prevent it. The dagger penetrated the crook of his arm, and blood flowed into the glass bottle. He looked into Nott’s eyes, and was surprised to see fear so great it verged on panic. He had never known him well while they were at school together, but he had not expected to see fear, not when Harry was bound and helpless.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."

Nott returned to the cauldron and emptied the blood into it. The ring still hovered about a foot above the lip. As the blood hit the surface of the liquid, the light turned a burning red again.

Harry thought he knew what came next. Draco was doing things a little differently to Wormtail, but it was close enough for Harry to be panicking.

He pulled at the ropes even harder and felt his hand start to slip free. The thing poking him the back was painful, but Harry kept pulling. As he started to get his hand free, he managed to grab it. Then he nearly fainted from shock; it was his wand!

The Death Eater who had stood back the whole night walked towards the cauldron, but before he got there, Malfoy held out an arm and stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Draco what…?” he began to ask, but Malfoy turned to Snape.

“Severus,” he said. “I need a hand for-ah-with, the next step. Jorkins here had volunteered, but I think you are better suited for this part,” Malfoy asked with feigned politeness.

Harry stopped his efforts to get a better hold of his wand. Did Snape know what he was being asked? Had he caught Malfoy’s slip? Harry did not think so. He doubted if Snape had ever heard, or read, the full story of Voldemort’s first return.

“Of course, Draco. Any way that I can be of assistance,” answered Snape, oblivious to what he was been asked.

“Good,” said Malfoy, and then without warning snapped his wand at Snape.

A red light shot out and hit the unprepared man in the chest and he crumpled to the ground. The three Death Eaters dragged his body closer to the cauldron. Nott and Goyle held him, with one arm over its lip, as the third Death Eater raised the silver knife above it.

Harry worked his hand free enough to close fully over the butt of his wand. He could not move it much, but it was better than nothing.

"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master.”

Harry watched transfixed as the knife slashed down and cut Snape’s hand off just below the wrist. Snape screamed and slumped to the ground as his severed hand fell into the pot.

The light coming from the potion turned a burning white.

This is it, thought Harry. This was when Voldemort had risen from the cauldron, naked as a newborn, but alive.

Last time, Wormtail had a part of Voldemort's soul in a deformed baby-like body. This time, Harry had destroyed Voldemort’s soul in their last, decisive battle, so there was nothing to fill the body, even if Malfoy managed to conjure a ghost.

Harry decided not to wait to find out what Malfoy was hoping to achieve; he had to put a stop to this, now. There was no help coming soon, and he had no time to go get any.

The three Death Eaters were watching the cauldron intently, and Snape was lying on the ground, apparently unconscious.

Closing his eyes, Harry concentrated, and tried to Apparate.

Nothing happened.

Around the cauldron, the Death Eaters raised their wands towards the smoke rising through the hovering ring. The smoke curled in on itself and began to compress, slowly
starting to take shape.

Harry tugged at his bonds again and tried another spell to remove them. Again he failed.

He just could not move his wand enough to cast properly. Not all the ‘swish and flick’ practice in the world helped when your hands were tied behind your back. Apparating was still his best bet, even though he could not move much more than an inch. Hopefully, it was enough.

Above the cauldron, the smoke congealed into a frighteningly familiar form. In the distance Harry heard a church bell start to chime; it was midnight.

“Come, oh Dark Lord,” cried Malfoy excitedly at the ghostly image. “Come back to this world and face those who have waited for you. Come and get WHAT YOU TRULY DESERVE!” he screamed.

The other Death Eaters, still holding their wands towards the apparition, took a step backwards from the cauldron.

Ghostly! In a horrified moment of clarity, Harry understood what Malfoy was trying to do.

He was trying to raise the ghost of Voldemort and put it into a body!

Voldemort floated, half-formed, above the levitating ring. From the waist down it was still vapour, but the upper half was as fully formed as any ghost Harry had ever seen.

Harry crouched down and then flung himself hard against the ropes, moving as far as possible, while once again trying to Apparate.

Instantly he felt the familiar sensation of being forced through a very tight rubber tube, and then he was standing behind the Death Eaters. The ropes and gag had been left behind, and he wasted no time in raising his wand.

“Stupefy, Stupefy, Stupefy,” shouted Harry.

Although his mouth was dry from the gag, he managed to get the three spells out in one breath.

At the sound of his Apparition, Malfoy had instinctively thrown himself flat on the ground, so Harry’s first curse flew above his head. Nott and Goyle were not as fast, and took hits in the chest and leg respectively. The third Death Eater yelled in fright before dropping out of sight.

Harry was forced to duck and take cover as Malfoy rolled behind a headstone and started throwing curses back at him.

“YOU FOOL POTTER!” Malfoy screeched, from behind his headstone. “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING.”

Harry crawled around to the other side of a headstone, and tried to find the third Death Eater. If he could keep Malfoy talking, he would be able to keep track of where he was.

“I know exactly what I am doing," he called back. "I am stopping you!”

“YOU IDIOT, THE SPELL WAS FINISHED.”

Harry looked over the top of his cover and saw the smoke drawing back through the ring and into the cauldron, which started shooting sparks high into the air.

“THE DARK LORD IS GOING TO RETURN UNLESS WE KILL HIM NOW!”

It took a second for Harry to register what Malfoy just said.

“What are you raving about, Malfoy? He was already DEAD. YOU BROUGHT HIM BACK!” he shouted, and then threw a few of curses towards the headstone Malfoy was hiding behind. Chips of stone flew as a couple hit it and the others flew harmlessly over the top. The third Death Eater was nowhere to be seen, and Harry was worried he might be circling around.

“DO YOU THINK HE WAS STUPID ENOUGH TO RELY ON HORCRUXES ALONE?” Malfoy was still screaming hysterically, but his words gave Harry reason to pause.

“What do you mean?” he called back, still searching for the other Death Eater.

Harry could hear Malfoy gasping for breath just a scant dozen metres away. Beyond that, he could see the cauldron boiling even more furiously than before. Voldemort had told Harry personally that he had tried many things to achieve immortality. Was Malfoy telling Harry he had succeeded?

“He made a ring that would bring him back as a ghost,” said Malfoy. “I thought nobody knew about it, but I found it, and figured out how to use it.”

Harry had no idea if Malfoy was just playing for time while the other Death Eater was sneaking up on him, or if he was telling the truth. Either way, Harry could not just lie there and wait. He decided to make a run for a large gravestone not far away. It offered more protection and was on the side away from where he had last seen Jorkins, the third Death Eater.

“Why, Malfoy? Why did you bring him back? He was defeated!” Harry hoped Malfoy would be distracted enough answering not to be ready to hit him as he leapt up and ran for the better position.

“SO I COULD UTTERLY DESTROY HIM, YOU FOOL!” screamed Malfoy again.

Harry made it to his new cover without any spells flying at him. He scanned the area from his new perspective for signs of Jorkins. In the distance, between some headstones, he could see a leg sticking out from close to where Jorkins had been standing earlier. It looked like he had chosen to lie down on the spot and wait for Harry. Malfoy’s ravings made no sense to Harry, and he didn’t want to say anything in case it gave away his new position, so he waited quietly.

“You see, Harry, unlike the Horcruxes, the ring did not contain a part of the Dark Lord," continued Malfoy, “but it did contain a spell. I could not destroy the ring, but to leave it would be risking somebody following the same trail that I followed for five years, and possibly bringing him back. Can you imagine Voldemort as a ghost, Harry? He would finally be immortal.”

Harry could see one of Malfoy’s legs sticking out. He was sitting with his back against the gravestone, watching the cauldron. There was not enough leg to make a good target, and Harry still did not want to give away his position.

“I HATE HIM, HARRY. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? I HATE HIM EVEN MORE THAN YOU!”

Harry bent down and, careful to keep as much cover as possible between them, started crawling.

“He killed my family. He killed all of our families, AND I WANT TO KILL HIM!”

Harry knew Draco was insane now. Nobody in their right mind would resurrect somebody, just so they could kill them again. Harry edged forwards on his elbows and knees, holding his breath for fear of Malfoy hearing him. He was exposed for a few metres before he would be right behind the lunatic.

“So I convinced the others to help me, so they could get their revenge too. Now it’s too late.” The last sentence was said in a sob. Had Harry been further away he would not have heard it. A few seconds more and he would be able to stick his wand in Malfoy’s ear as he stunned him. Then he could go after the other Death Eater, who still had not moved.

Then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. Harry looked up as a surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron. Through the mist, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

Voldemort.

Malfoy leapt to his feet, his wand pointing at Voldemort and tried to scream the killing curse.

“Avada Kedav-” he began, but was cut off as the creature flew from the steam and landed heavily on him.

Harry saw its face, and it did not look like Voldemort. Instead of the skull-white face and livid scarlet eyes, this face was a worse horror. There were no eyes, but black pits where the sockets should have been. Its mouth was a gaping hole, more like a Dementor’s than a man’s, and the nose was just two slits. Harry could see its outstretched hands were claws.

Malfoy screamed as the creature drove him to the ground and knocked the wand out of his hand. Despite Malfoy's struggles, the creature lowered its mouth down to his face, making him scream even louder.

Harry leapt to his feet and threw a curse at the monster that looked for all the world like a Dementor performing the lethal kiss.

“Stupefy!” he shouted.

His spell hit the creature full on. It did not pay any attention.

Under its hands, Malfoy fought weakly, his eyes wide with terror. Harry could imagine that he saw life being sucked out, and the creature seemed to be swelling as it fed.

“Petrificus Totalus!” he yelled, walking closer. Again the creature ignored him.

“Sectumsempra!” he screamed, slashing with his wand. This was the most powerful curse he had ever used, and had once almost killed Malfoy. The creature ignored him and continued its foul meal.

Harry gave up casting and ran at it. He put all of his strength into a powerful kick at its head. The kick connected with a sickening thud and, to Harry’s astonishment, threw the creature off Malfoy.

“Avada Kedavra!” he yelled, pointing his wand at it.

A jet of green light shot from the end of his wand and hit the thing rolling on the ground. Harry could see it more clearly now, and it looked more like a man than it had just a few moments ago. It appeared that feeding on Malfoy had started to make it more human.

To his further astonishment, it didn’t die. It quickly rolled over and got to its clawed feet.

Harry stood stunned. He had never used a killing curse before, and knew it took a desire and willingness to kill that he had never possessed, but he had given it everything he had, and the creature was still going.

“Incarcerous!” he threw at it.

Instantly ropes appeared and bound the creature. It gave a mighty heave and the ropes exploded away into nothing. Then, before he could cast another spell, it leapt into the air and landed on him, bearing him to ground just as it had done Malfoy.

He managed to hold onto his wand. One snakelike arm of the creature held it down while the other gripped the back of Harry’s head and tried to force his face closer. Harry had one arm wedged between them and pushed with all his might to keep it away. Its gaping mouth was open and Harry began to feel the unmistakable pull of every happy thought he had ever had being sucked out of him.

All happiness was draining from him. Images of flying, of his friends laughing, of the births of his children, all of them and more slipped through his mind and started to disappear.

He struggled to hold onto a single happy thought, and concentrated as hard as he had ever done before: Ginny and young Sirius bringing him breakfast on his birthday. Nothing made him happier than his family. Waving his wand weakly, he cast his final spell.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry bellowed.

Out of the end of his wand burst a blinding, dazzling, silver stag. It hooked its horns under the creature and flicked it high into the air.

Harry rolled over and coughed up blood. The creature flew at him again, but the Patronus jumped between them and charged, throwing it back. Again and again the monster tried to get past. The stag was vicious in its counterattacks. Harry was still too weak and shaken to get to his feet. He could see gashes appearing wherever the stag’s horns hit the creature. He did not know if it would be able to destroy the Voldemort-Dementor, but at least it was holding it at bay, for the moment.

“Avada Kedavra,” croaked a voice next to him. A green light, much brighter than the one Harry had produced, shot out and stuck the creature in one of the gashes in its chest. It stopped moving as a piece of its ‘flesh’ fell off.

Harry swivelled his head around and looked at Malfoy. Propped against the gravestone, Malfoy pointed his wand at the creature and launched another attack.

“Avada Kedavra,” Malfoy repeated, so quietly it was almost a whisper, but the green light that sprang from his wand was just bright as the first. A ragged piece of the creature tore from its side where the spell hit another gash. The creature looked stunned and unsure of what to do.

Harry hesitated. He wanted to kill the creature, and Malfoy’s spells seemed to be working, but he was half expecting one to be turned on him at any moment.

Just then, the creature let out an unnatural scream, and turned to flee. Harry acted without thinking and cast a stunning curse at its back. The spell hit, and the creature stumbled.

Harry’s Patronus galloped and caught it up into its horns, then again threw it into the air.

Harry climbed to his feet and started throwing every curse he knew at it. The ones that hit holes made by the Patronus had the most effect, often ripping off more pieces. Beside him, Malfoy kept hitting it with the killing curse. He was taking longer and longer between each casting, and his voice was growing weaker. The green light from each curse was also showing signs of dimming, but they were winning.

Harry felt a surge of excitement, and did something he had never even considered trying before.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” he yelled, and then stopped at the shock of what he had just done.

He had never heard of anyone summoning two Patronuses at the same time, and he did not even know if it was possible.

A wave of weakness overcame him as another dazzling shape emerged from the end of his wand and flew into the night sky. It was not a stag, but a bird, a phoenix.

It did not immediately attack, but flew above their heads and began to sing. It was the same eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly song he had last heard on his birthday, and it filled Harry with hope and strength.

He stood still, exhausted, as the Voldemort-Dementor appeared to go insane at the sound and tried to escape, but was caught and battered by his stag Patronus.

Finally, the stag made a great lunge, and stuck its horns right through the creature. There was a blinding flash of light and a rush of wind that pushed Harry backwards. When he looked up again, the creature was gone.

The stag Patronus slowly walked over, not leaving any footprints in the sand, and, just as it had done many years ago on the shores of the lake at Hogwarts, stood still in front of him.

“Hello Prongs,” said Harry, as he reached out his hand, but it vanished before he could touch it.

“Very touching, Potter,” drawled a voice weakly behind him.

Harry spun around, wand ready, to face Malfoy. Draco was still slumped against the gravestone. He looked sick, and did not appear to have enough energy to raise his wand.

Harry lowered his wand and walked to stand in front of the dying man. Above them, the phoenix still sang. Draco looked weakly at Harry and smiled.

“You’re an idiot, Potter,” he continued.

Then turned his face up and watched the phoenix.

“What a beautiful song,” Draco whispered, smiling gently.

After a second, his head slumped down, and Harry knew he was dead.

They never found Snape.

Jorkins was lying on the ground, stunned, just like Goyle and Nott. It was possible that Harry had struck him with one of the spells he had fired at Malfoy, but Harry had another explanation that he kept to himself, for the moment.

Jorkins turned out to be the nephew of a witch Voldemort had tortured to death during his first return and, like the other two, had agreed to Malfoy’s insane plan to get revenge for his loss. He was just a kid who could barely remember his aunty, but he got caught up in Malfoy's plot; just another pawn in somebody’s game.

Nobody quite knew what to do with the three. They were sure to be spending some time in Azkaban for their part in the kidnapping of the Minister of Magic, but they had not actually done anything that warranted them paying the ultimate price; a walk through the veil to the afterlife.

Two days later, Harry lay in bed, stroking the crystal with the phoenix inside it and listening to its song.

Ginny had alerted the Aurors as soon as Harry had been late. They traced his apparition and had arrived at Riddle’s grave to find the injured Harry sitting calmly beside the lifeless body of Draco Malfoy.

Since then, he had been confined to bed because, like the three pretend Death Eaters, nobody knew what to do with him, though for some reason everybody insisted that he needed to rest.

Exactly what had happened had been hushed up, despite Harry's election promise of never keeping secrets from the public again. The story that was told was very close to the truth, but it omitted any mention of the strange ring that Draco had used and had not been found; they did not want anybody else to go looking for other artefacts of Voldemort. A new ultra-secret department had been set up however, to do exactly that, but Harry wondered if they were already too late and somebody else had been hunting them down for the last ten years.

The door opened quietly, and Ginny came in with a loaded breakfast tray. Harry watched his wife as she silently put the tray down and sat on the edge of his bed. She knew he was still thinking about what had happened, that something was bothering him, but she did not need to try to pry it out of him. She was contented that he would tell her in his own time.

After a few seconds of enjoying the song, she leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, then left the room without saying a word.

Harry lay, going over it again and again in his mind, and always he came back to the same question, and the same answer.

There had been a brief moment when Snape had been tying Harry to the headstone that nobody would have seen. A split second unobserved, and in that short time, Snape had stuck Harry’s wand into his robes.

Finite Incantatem.