“He caught up with his cohorts at the River Rubicon, which was the boundary of his province, where he paused for a while, thinking over the magnitude of what he was planning, then, turning to his closer companions, he said: ‘Even now we can still turn back. But once we have crossed that little bridge, everything must be decided by arms.’

“Then said Caesar: ‘Let us go where the gods have shown us the way and where the injustice of our enemies calls us. The die is cast.’”

--Suetonius, The Lives of the Caesars


Prologue:

14 April, 1945


The headmaster stood quietly, patiently, stoically, at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, his eyes fixed on the western sky. The sun was sinking, blood-red, below the mountains of Scotland, and in the darkening sky above, the stars began to glimmer like tears. The wizard sighed and shakily lowered himself onto a tree stump by the side of the lake, across from the slumbering castle. A bowtruckle clambered up the trunk of a tree nearby, and blinked at him curiously, assessing him, until it lost interest and continued climbing into the branches.

The sound of hoofs on the grass met Armando Dippet’s ears, and he looked up to see an ancient gray centaur standing nearby. They both stared at each other without expression, until Dippet asked quietly, “I take it that I’m expected?”

The old centaur bowed his head. “You came to inform me of yesterday’s happenings in Germany.”

“Then you already know?”

“The brothers were victorious,” the centaur replied. “The Triskelen have fallen.”

Dippet nodded. “You have a way of knowing things before news reaches you, Sage Tiresias, but yes. Grindelwald is dead, and the Muggle dictator will soon follow. It is over.”

Tiresias shook his head solemnly. “I wish that were the case.”

The wizard’s brow furrowed. “You think the Triskelen will remain a threat?”

The sage shook his head again, and looked up into the sky. “They were just a canker. It seems sturdy now, but the Wizarding World was built on a splintering column. If corruption and depravity seeps into the cracks again, that column will crumble, and wizardry will topple.”

Dippet stared in consternation. “What do you mean? Can this be prevented?”

Tiresias smiled sadly. “It cannot be prevented, and unfortunately, you cannot help. You can only warn. Pass my message to the Dumbledore brothers.”

“What you said about the breaking column?”

“That,” Tiresias confirmed, “but also this warning: it will begin at Godric’s Hollow. Even as Rudolf Grindelwald lies dead, a new evil is stirring within this very country, greater and more formidable than ever was Grindelwald, or even Herpo the Foul. Even now, Armando Dippet, at this very moment.” He paused for a moment, and turned his gaze to the twilight sky. “This morning Mars shone brighter than ever, and it will begin at Godric’s Hollow, when a child is marked for battle. Then begins the War of Blood, professor, when the sevenfold fiend battles the War Mage. Then watch for the virescent eyes of the War Mage.”

Dippet’s bewilderment showed, but even so, he visibly shivered.

“Even now, a great evil is stirring,” Tiresias reiterated. “The War of Blood will begin at Godric’s Hollow. Tell Professor Dumbledore.”

Without another word, the sage of the centaurs of Scotland retreated into the forest.

********

“…and so I would suggest holding your shares until the crisis lessens, Mr. Macmillan.”

The client nodded.

“Will that be all, sir?” the goblin asked. At Macmillan’s nod, the stockbroker turned to his left. “Alphard, if you could deposit Mr. Macmillan’s earnings…?”

“At once, Mr. Grobschmied,” the young assistant replied, moving to his employer’s desk to take the check.

Macmillan scrutinized Alphard. “Are you not of the Black family?” he asked curiously.

Alphard nodded. “Pollux Black is my father, sir.”

Macmillan raised an eyebrow, and Alphard awkwardly looked away. Grobschmied shot the intern a sympathetic glance, having already heard of the trouble the boy received from his mother, Irma Black, for having such a “commonplace” occupation, and Alphard had already received numerous comments about it from patrons. But fortunately, Mr. Macmillan had the sagacity not to continue the topic. He nodded to Grobschmied, and then quitted the room.

“I’ll take care of his documents, sir,” Alphard told him as he stepped toward the office door.

Grobschmied nodded. “Try to be back by half after six,” he said. “I have an appointment with Mr. Prewett.”

As Alphard left the room, Grobschmied returned to his desk and opened a drawer, which contained a few books and a couple dozen phonograph records. He browsed through the small collection for a moment, and his eyes fell upon a disc labeled “Le Sacré du Printemps.” Grobschmied considered it for a moment, and thinking it oddly appropriate, he pulled out the record and set it inside his gramophone. He then carefully set the needle in place, and sat back in his chair as the notes of a bassoon issued from the speaker. He then picked up his decanter and poured himself a glass of brandy.

At that moment, the door opened, and Grobschmied looked up in time to see an older goblin enter the room, and he sat up abruptly. It was Garnok Gadlak, the wealthy proprietor of Gringotts. He stopped as he entered, and his eyes fell on the gramophone.

“Muggle composition?” he inquired. “Sounds like a bassoon concerto, except it’s a bit… modern?”

“It’s a ballet, actually,” Grobschmied replied. “By a Russian composer. And yes, it is modern. I was at its opening. I remember Saint-Saëns remarking that if that was a bassoon, then he was a baboon. Always thought Saint-Saëns a pompous git.”

Mr. Gadlak smirked. “You were there, huh? You took care to make yourself look more human, I trust?”

“I hope so,” Grobschmied replied. “Otherwise I’d have to wonder if the riot that ensued that night was my fault, and not a result of the unusual music.”

His employer chuckled. “On a different but related note, I hear we are to call you ‘Dr. Benedict Grobschmied’ now.”

Grobschmied determinedly kept his expression neutral, but Gadlak merely raised an eyebrow.

“Well done on your discretion,” he said, “and congratulations on your Oxford degree. And for God’s sake, don’t let the Ministry of Magic find out!”

Still chuckling, Gadlak quitted the room, but just before he closed the door, an owl fluttered through it. Grobschmied, however, stared after the Gringotts entrepreneur for a few more minutes, until the owl clicked its beak impatiently, and Grobschmied detached the letter from the bird’s leg. He smiled as he recognized the handwriting, and he relaxed in his chair again, and broke the seal to begin reading.

My dear Benedict,
Thank you for your last letter. The story of your little adventure in the Goblin Liaison Office was very entertaining. I don’t believe I’ve laughed so hard in years. You are excellent. It’s goblins like you who make me wonder sometimes at the Ministry’s attitude toward the Tylwthteg people.

Things are quiet for me at the present moment. I’m afraid Hokey’s taken ill lately. I do what I can for her, but she soon will be unable to continue her work. She has difficulty climbing the stairs without assistance. She’s fortunate that the Black family does not employ her, knowing what they do to their house-elves when they get too old to do their duties.

Caractacus Burke is after the set of Koboldrang armor again. He’s made an offer of five hundred Galleons for it, but he’ll have to do much better than that for it. I’ve told him that he’ll have to pay at least the amount that I had to pay for the locket. I have to admit, though, that Burke’s young assistant is a very charming man, quite the gentleman. He even brought me flowers today, when he arrived.

Grobschmied stared at this last bit. He supposed that it was only a matter of time before Burke, swinder that he was, would send his useful little assistant to Hepzibah, but he could not stop the chill that went up his spine as he thought of the strange clerk at Borgin and Burke’s. It was odd, but Burke’s assistant made Grobschmied uneasy. Perhaps it was Mr. Riddle’s extraordinary ability to procure artifacts for Burke at astonishingly low prices, or perhaps it was simply the old cultural assumption many Tylwthteg and Koboldic goblins made about wizards concerning such treasures, but Grobschmied’s dislike of Riddle grew every time Burke stored a new artifact in his vault, and Riddle appeared with an immense pay raise.

As for his manners… well, Grobschmied could almost understand Hepzibah’s opinion of Riddle. Almost. The young man certainly was very charming, but there was something in his eyes that belied that appearance. Grobschmied thought him too smooth and ingratiating. He knew that demeanor. He’d seen several people attempt that act when trying to cheat Gringotts, gain favoritism from the deans or professors at Oxford, or sidestep prosecution in undoubtedly illegal transactions. Frowning, Grobschmied returned to Hepzibah’s letter.

Of course, I made it clear to Mr. Riddle that Burke would have to offer a better price for the armor, but Riddle accepted this politely. I believe he works at Borgin and Burke’s because he appreciates the history of the artifacts there, not how much they’re worth. I thought it would interest him, so I showed him the cup and the locket.

Grobschmied, who had just taken a sip of brandy, choked at this last sentence, his astonishment growing. Hepzibah didn’t show just anyone those particular artifacts, and for many years, she had carefully kept her possession of Hufflepuff’s cup secret, in case someone like Burke learned of it.

He enjoyed examining them, of course, particularly the locket, although he went a bit funny when I put them away.

I was glad to hear that you’ve employed young Alphard Black. His family’s been giving him such trouble lately. All he needs is for his sister Walburga to get on his case about his anti-Triskelen leanings, and he’ll find himself disowned. I tell you, Benedict, that that family isn’t going to come to any good. You should have seen Cygnus Black’s reaction when his daughter Dorea got engaged to young Charlus Potter, a perfectly respectable young man from a wealthy pureblood family. I ask you…

Hokey’s just brought me my supper, so I had better close. Hope to hear from you soon.

Hepzibah Smith

Grobschmied stared at the letter. The unease which he felt about Riddle increased tenfold. Hepzibah normally would die rather than hand either the cup or the locket to any procurer, and personally, Grobschmied felt that the two artifacts ought to be in a museum, or perhaps in the historical gallery at Hogwarts, rather than in anyone’s hands. But on the other hand, Hepzibah usually kept their existence secret. Normally she didn’t tell just anyone about them, yet somehow she told Riddle, a youth she hardly knew.

He looked at the date at the top of the letter, and saw that it had been written two days ago. Curse the Eeylops postal service for its tardiness! He glanced at the clock, and upon seeing that the appointment with Ignatius Prewett wasn’t for another hour, he stood abruptly.

Normally he didn’t intervene in Hepzibah’s trade in medieval artifacts, but Grobschmied was absolutely certain that Riddle and Burke would cheat her if someone didn’t talk sense into her. His conscience wouldn’t be swayed unless he visited Hepzibah and at least warned her about Riddle.

As he stepped out of his office door, he bumped into Alphard, who appeared to have just returned from depositing Macmillan’s check.

“Alphard, could you look after things for an hour?” Grobschmied asked. “I have to run an errand, but I’m not sure I’ll be back in time for Mr. Prewett’s appointment.”

“Of course, sir,” Alphard said. Seeing Grobschmied’s troubled expression, he then added, “I hope everything’s all right, sir.”

“It’s probably nothing,” Grobschmied assured him, “but I hope so too.”

He then turned and hurried down the hall until he reached the lobby. He fairly ran toward the fireplaces at the right side of the chamber, and reached into a flower pot next to one of the fires, scooping up a handful of Floo Powder. Then, scattering it into the fire, Grobschmied stepped inside the emerald flames and shouted, “Smith Manor!”

He tensed as he started spinning rapidly, trying not to breathe in the soot, and closing his eyes against the whirl of green flame. Floo Powder wasn’t his preferred method of travel, but in this case, it certainly was the fastest.

Finally, Grobschmied stumbled out of the fireplace in Hepzibah’s tidy front room, and brushed soot from his coat.

“Hepzibah?” he called out.

There was no reply. Grobschmied frowned, and called out again, but there was nothing. He sighed, hoping she hadn’t gone out, and raised his voice again.

“Hokey?”

There was a loud pop, and the elderly elf Apparated before him. Before she could greet Grobschmied, she swayed, and the goblin stepped forward and steadied her.

“Thank you, Mr. Grobschmied,” she croaked.

“I’m sorry to get you up, Hokey,” Grobschmied told her gently, “but I must see your mistress. Is she at home?”

“Yes sir,” Hokey said quietly. “She is in her dining room. I just took her her dinner.”

“Has anyone else been by today, Hokey?”

She frowned for a moment, and shook her head. “No, sir. I hasn’t seen anyone.”

Grobschmied exhaled. “Show me to her, then.”

As Hokey slowly led Grobschmied down a well-kept hallway, they passed the suit of armor that Burke had been after for so long. The unease returned and then, as they quietly approached the dining room, Grobschmied realized that it was very quietly, abnormally quiet. He couldn’t hear the sounds of cutlery on china dishes or the sipping of tea, not the slightest stirring.

Grobschmied waited tensely as Hokey opened the door and stepped inside. She opened her mouth to announce him, and then she stopped, staring stock-still at something within. Then she screamed.

“Mistress Hepzibah! Mistress Hepzibah!”

Without a word, Grobschmied followed the elf into the dining room, and he froze as he saw his old friend slumped back in her chair, her glassy eyes wide and staring, but her face ashen, with an expression of shocked terror in its elderly features. Hepzibah Smith was dead.

********

Chapter 1:
Trio is Company

“I watched his movements, and tried to speak to him about it myself, but now that I’ve received this, I am absolutely certain that he already knew.”

“You are absolutely certain that Dumbledore wrote this?”

“His phoenix delivered it. It’s dated to the day before his death.”

“So not only did he know, but he also knew that you worked it out.”

“That does appear to be the case. He would not have known that, however, had I not slipped that note into his pocket during his last visit.”

“When was this?”

“About a week before his death.”

“The way he wrote this note… it’s almost as though he knew he was going to die. As though he’d known for a while.”

“He was quite old, even by wizard standards. Perhaps he was dying already, Snape or no Snape.”

“Even so, he wouldn’t have allowed the secret to die with him. He must have imparted it to another.”

“If he did, I think we can all guess who.”

********

He stepped onto the doormat, and stared at the door of Number Four, Privet Drive for several minutes. The “Welcome” mat belied the owners’ hospitality, but after a moment’s hesitation, he knocked, stepped back, and waited.

Then the door opened, and he and his aunt looked at each other, one in bewildered annoyance, the other in resignation.

“Get inside!” Petunia Dursley hissed, stepping back to allow Harry entry. He stepped inside, lugging his trunk behind him, with his owl cage in his free hand, pausing only to nod at the taxi behind him, driven by a dark, bald man with an earring, who nodded back and drove away. As soon as she closed the door, Petunia rounded on her nephew.

“You are not supposed to be back yet,” she snapped.

Harry shrugged. “Term ended early.”

A surprised look flitted across her face, but it was quickly replaced with anger. “Why weren’t we informed?”

Her nephew didn’t respond immediately. A shadow seemed to pass across his countenance, but after a moment, he said shortly, “Unforeseen circumstances forced the school governors to cut the term short. So here I am.”

She didn’t look convinced. “This is highly irregular.”

“What caused it was highly irregular,” Harry retorted. “Now as soon as I get my stuff upstairs, I’d like a word with you.”

Petunia’s scowl deepened, but she nodded stiffly and disappeared into the kitchen. Harry sighed and took hold of the handle of his trunk, to awkwardly drag it up the stairs to his bedroom. He had known that his aunt wouldn’t react well to his arrival, but he felt it best to warn her of his friends’ impending arrival beforehand. As for what Kingsley had told him on the way to Privet Drive, Harry supposed he’d have to break it to his aunt slowly. Ron and Hermione coming to stay with him at Privet Drive, and the coming danger after Harry’s 17th birthday might be too much for her to handle all at once, and certainly would send Vernon into a flying rage, the last thing Harry needed at the present moment.

After a few minutes, Harry finally made it to his room and allowed his trunk to fall to the floor with a loud thud. He checked his watch, and put Hedwig’s cage on his desk. The owl looked at him expectantly, and Harry opened his trunk, fishing around for the box of owl treats. Finding it, he offered one to Hedwig, who accepted it happily. Then deciding that he had better get it over with, Harry slowly made his way back down the stairs, and entered the kitchen to see his aunt cleaning the countertop.

“May I have some lunch?” he asked politely.

Petunia said nothing. Harry took that as a “yes,” and opened the refrigerator. He surveyed the inside for a moment, and then settled on some cheese and crackers. As he pulled out a cutting board and started slicing the brick of cheese, Petunia spoke.

“All right, what is it?”

Harry hesitated. “I’m going to have two friends staying with me for the next couple of weeks.”

Petunia looked furious. “If you think I’m going to have two more of your kind” �“

“We’ll keep out of your way,” Harry interrupted curtly. “They’ll be here to do some work with me. You don’t need to worry about what the neighbors think. Hermione has non-magic parents and knows how to act normally. She’ll help Ron do the same. You don’t even need to provide us meals. We’ll feed ourselves.”

Petunia looked slightly cheered at that.

“I should also tell you that they are both of age,” Harry continued, “and therefore they can use magic outside of school.”

His aunt’s face hardened again.

“I will tell them to do so only if it is necessary,” he added, “and they’ll avoid it in front of you, Uncle Vernon, or Dudley.”

“How long do they intend to stay?” Petunia inquired.

“Harry finished with the cheese and pulled a plate from the cabinet. “A couple of weeks at the most. Whenever I’m allowed to go to Ron’s place, so hopefully not too long. And if it brings you any consolation, we’re not coming back.”

“It doesn’t,” Petunia muttered. Then she realized what Harry had said, and raised her eyebrow. “You’re moving out?”

Harry nodded as he took a seat at the table. “I’ll be of age soon. I’ll leave with Ron and Hermione, and I don’t expect or intend to return.”

He had a faraway look in his eyes as he said this, something Petunia did not fail to notice. She frowned at him for a moment, but her expression wasn’t angry, but inquisitive, and then she seemed to understand what he was implying. Then she inhaled deeply.

“Very well,” she relented. “You may allow your friends to stay here, but don’t expect Vernon to take it well.

Harry shrugged. “I never did.”

“When will they arrive?”

“In about an hour.”

Petunia looked resigned. “Clean up after yourself,” she told him, “and answer the door yourself when they arrive.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry muttered sarcastically.

An hour later, he remained at the table, occasionally checking his watch until at the exact moment Ron said they’d arrive, Harry heard a tentative knock on the front door, and he got up to answer it.

“Harry!” someone cried as soon as he opened it, and a mass of bushy brown hair flew at him. Harry staggered in surprise at the sudden pair of arms that enveloped him.

“Hermione!” he laughed. “I only just saw you two hours ago!”

Hermione backed off, looking sheepish, and Harry stepped aside to let her and Ron in.

“Hello, mate,” Ron said, clapping Harry’s shoulder cheerfully. “So, the Muggles will let us stay?”

“I talked to Aunt Petunia, and she eventually relented,” Harry replied, closing the door. “Uncle Vernon’s not home yet, though, so he doesn’t know yet.”

Ron grimaced. “He won’t be happy when he comes home and finds out, will he?”

Harry shook his head as he led them up the stairs. “You had better brace yourselves for an explosion.”

“I’ll use a silencing spell on him if I have to,” Ron told him, shrugging.

“You’ll do no such thing!” Hermione scolded.

“I’m not totally against it myself, to be honest,” Harry told her as they entered his room. “But I don’t think it would hurt to threaten him, especially if he decides to come plowing in here or something equally stupid. I’m not putting up with his crap any longer.”

He sank on the bed, and Ron closed the door.

“Your mum finally let you come here, then?” Harry asked, thinking of the heated discussion Ron had started with Mrs. Weasley as soon as he told her he intended to go with Harry to the Dursleys.

Ron snorted. “Eventually she gave in, when Ginny pointed out that while the wards are in place here, we’re just as safe here as you are, and it would make your stay here more bearable. Dad agreed, and Mum finally relented.”

Harry nodded, and turned to Hermione. “What about your parents?”

“They’re going to leave,” Hermione told him quietly. “Mad-Eye told me that the Order’s going to relocate my family to the United States. Mum and Dad will continue their practice there.”

“Do they know yet?”

“It was Dad’s idea,” Hermione replied. “He and Mum knew that their lives were in danger, and they started making arrangements as soon as they were told about Dumbledore’s death.” She paused for a moment, her expression downcast, but she added, “They want me to go with them, of course, but they accepted it when I told them that I’m needed here.”

They fell silent. For a few minutes, the only sounds were the birds outside and occasionally a car driving by. Then Ron asked, “So what’s the plan?”

Hermione answered first. “We can’t do anything until Harry’s of age, obviously. The Ministry can track his wand until then.”

“I was thinking about it on the way here,” Harry said, “and I think that a good time would be after I get my Apparation license. At least we’ll be gone from here by then.”

“When’s Mad-Eye planning to escort us to the Burrow?” asked Ron.

“Kingsley told me that the plans aren’t completely settled yet,” Harry told him. “But someone from the Order will inform me as soon as they’ve arranged something.”

They continued talking in this manner for some time, but whenever someone mentioned the Order of the Phoenix, Harry couldn’t help but worry about how to handle them as soon as he actually got to the Burrow. To his knowledge, Dumbledore had told none in the Order about the task he had given him. They certainly had no idea that Harry, Ron, and Hermione intended to leave the Burrow as soon as Harry came of age, and Harry had no intention of telling them, and he said as much to Ron and Hermione, who agreed.

Immediately after he expressed these thoughts, Ron then frowned, and asked, “Does Ginny know?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t told Ron and Hermione about breaking off the relationship, and he worried about Ron’s reaction. Unable to make eye contact with Ron, Harry asked quietly, “About the Horcruxes?”

Ron nodded.

“No,” Harry replied, “and she isn’t going to. But she does know that Dumbledore’s left me things to do. I’m not sure what she suspects otherwise.”

Ron seemed to accept this answer, but Harry noticed Hermione watching him with an inscrutable look, and he wondered how much Ginny had told Hermione.

Their conversations carried so late in the afternoon that Harry completely forgot about his uncle’s impending arrival from work. When Vernon actually did arrive, Harry had expected him to be angry, but he was glad that Ron and Hermione were able to keep cool enough heads to react when they did. It started when Harry heard the sound of a car pulling into the drive, and he looked out of his window in time to see his uncle step out of his car and slam the door shut. It wasn’t a good sign that Harry could see, even from his window, that Vernon was already in a foul mood.

“He’s home,” he told his friends. “Get your wands out.”

“Harry, I’m not jinxing your uncle!” Hermione snapped, but she pulled her wand from her sleeve all the same.

“Hopefully, you won’t need to,” Harry told her. “He might back off when he sees your wands. With any luck, Aunt Petunia will be able to placate him a bit anyway.”

Unfortunately, they didn’t have such luck. A few minutes later, they heard a shout of surprised fury, which was soon followed by loud, rapid footsteps coming up the stairs.

“THAT RUDDY FREAK AND HIS FRIENDS WON’T DARE SET FOOT IN THIS HOUSE AGAIN ONCE I’M THROUGH WITH HIM!”

A second later, the door flew open, but Ron, reacting the moment he heard Vernon’s shouting, cried, “Protego!”

The force of the shield blasted Vernon Dursley back a bit, and he roared and tried to force his way into the room, though the shield kept him in the doorway, unable to cross the threshold. He then froze when he saw Ron and Hermione both aiming their wands at him.

“As you can see, Vernon,” Harry said coldly, “Ron and Hermione are of age, and will not hesitate to use magic if you bother me again. So I suggest you leave.”

Vernon’s face turned purple. “I will not be spoken to like that in my own house!”

“Yeah?” Harry shot back. “Try to stop me! You can’t even set foot in this room!”

A vein pulsed in Vernon’s temple, and he tried to step inside again, but Ron raised his wand higher, keeping the shield in place.

“We won’t be here any longer than we need to be,” Harry continued, “and then I can promise that you’ll be rid of me for good. Once I leave, I’m not coming back.”

“Good riddance!” Vernon snapped. “But I’m still not having those freaks here!”

“You’re not in any position to make demands,” Harry told him. “Leave us alone, and we’ll leave you alone.”

Harry thought that the vein in his uncle’s temple might burst at this point, but clearly recognizing defeat, Vernon stepped out of the room. With a flick of his wand, Ron slammed the door shut.

Hermione lowered herself into the chair at Harry’s desk, and she stowed her wand back up her sleeve. She looked shocked. “Harry, is he always like that?”

“Normally he pretends I don’t exist,” Harry told her calmly. “Aunt Petunia acknowledges me, but she normally doesn’t have anything decent to say. It’s all right, though. They usually ignore me, and I prefer it that way.”

“But they’re your family!” Hermione protested, scandalized.

“Nobody in this household really feels that way, myself included,” he replied indifferently. “By the way, Ron, good thinking with the Shield Charm. I suppose he had a bad day at work.”

“I’ve seen your uncle’s temper, mate,” Ron said seriously. “Figured it might be necessary.”

********

Harry woke up early to a sharp tap on the window, and he sat up and glanced at his alarm clock, rubbing his eyes. It was 5:30. He yawned and looked at the window, expecting to see an owl there, but he couldn’t see anything. He frowned and watched the window for a moment, but deciding that he probably was just hearing things, he lay back down.

There was another tap, and he sat up again, confused, but he still couldn’t see an owl. He slid out of bed and stepped over Ron’s sleeping bag, then looked out the window. He barely had time to notice something shift in the yard and vanish, and in that instant there was a muffled but loud crack just outside the window, and something tiny and colorful suddenly popped into existence on top of the window sill outside, wavering over the edge.

Ron snored.

Harry promptly flung the window open and steadied the house-elf. “Dobby?” he hissed, annoyed. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“Dobby apologizes for waking Harry Potter up,” the elf squeaked, sinking into a bow once he was in a safer position on the window sill. “Professor Dumbledore’s Order can’t send Harry Potter owls anymore. They say ‘tis too dangerous. So they sends Dobby to deliver messages instead.”

“You’ve got a message for me?” Harry asked.

“Yes, sir. Dobby has a letter from Professor Lupin, and the other from Harry Potter’s lady Wheezy.”

“My what?” Harry spluttered, feeing his face grow hot. He glanced quickly at Ron, but to his relief, his friend remained sound asleep. He never would have lived this down if Ron had overheard.

“Does Harry Potter want his letters?” Dobby asked tentatively, showing him the two envelopes.

Harry said nothing, but he took the letters and examined them in the early morning light. Sure enough, one was addressed in Remus Lupin’s tidy script, and the bulkier letter was in Ginny’s writing.

“Thanks Dobby,” Harry told the elf. “How should I let you know when I have a response ready?”

“Dobby will respond to Harry Potter’s calls,” the elf replied.

“But you’re a free elf.”

“Yes, sir, and Dobby can respond to anyone he likes.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll let you know.”

Dobby nodded and Disapparated with a loud crack that caused Ron to sit up abruptly.

“Whassamatter?” he asked incoherently.

“Nothing,” Harry told him casually. “Just Dobby with a couple of letters.”

This didn’t appear to really register with Ron. Still half-asleep, he nodded, and sank back down on his pillow to begin snoring again. Harry took a seat at his desk and looked between the two letters. Lupin’s was the shorter, so Harry decided to read it first.

Harry�”
Kingsley saw the Carrow siblings wandering around Little Whinging after he took you home. They can’t approach Privet Drive, but no doubt the Death Eaters will attack your aunt’s house the minute you turn seventeen. It’s likely that there will be more the closer we get to your birthday. We’re going to move you soon for that reason, probably on Monday. We’ll let Molly know when you are on your way. In the meantime, DO NOT leave Privet Drive.

Don’t worry about your aunt and uncle; we’re making arrangements for their safety.
Remus

P.S. Don’t use Hedwig to respond. The Death Eaters will undoubtedly intercept any owl they see approaching Little Whinging. We’ll find some other means of correspondence.

Harry glanced out the window to look into the street nervously, but he didn’t see anyone out there. He supposed he’d have to inform Aunt Petunia about this, but he didn’t want to do so while Uncle Vernon was at home. Harry didn’t think that the Death Eaters would attack his aunt or uncle when they left for work or errands, not if they wished to remain inconspicuous, but his aunt at least needed to be informed.

Harry then turned to Ginny’s letter, and after glancing at her brother nervously, he broke the seal and began to read.

Dear Harry,
I hope your aunt and uncle are treating you well, and I’m glad that Ron and Hermione are there with you this time. Dad and I had to step in to get Mum to agree to let Ron go with you, but it’s lucky Ron’s there at all, really. The rest of us are back and settled at home, although members of the Order come here a lot, and have been setting up enchantments all over the Burrow. Even though Dumbledore’s Fidelius Charm on headquarters is still in effect. Snape could appear there at any time. The Order has vacated the place again, but Mad-Eye’s got plans to renew the charm again soon so Snape won’t be able to get in.

Mum’s worried about you, of course, but she’s also occupied with preparations for Bill’s wedding, which is going to be a few days before your birthday, by the way, so you had better be here by then. Fleur’s still being a nuisance, but she’s not as bad as she was last year, so I can endure it. I’m still not sure what Bill sees in here, but then again, I’m not a man hanging around a half-Veela.

There are two things I want to say to you, Harry, while I’ve got the opportunity. The first thing is that I overheard Mum and Dad talking to Kingsley and Mad-Eye after dinner, and what they had to say might interest you. You didn’t hear this from me, but the Ministry is planning to close Hogwarts indefinitely, and since you therefore won’t be able to remain safe there next year, the Order has decided to build you a new sanctuary once the protections over your aunt’s house expire. They’ve already placed anti-Apparation/Disapparation wards around the Burrow. I think that the Floo Network and Portkeys are the only way in and out, and on top of Mum keeping charge of the Floo Powder, the Aurors are also watching the network.

I don’t know what you’re planning, but we both know that you’ll have a harder time doing whatever Dumbledore’s left you to do, while the Order’s breathing down your neck and restricting your movements. They have your best interests at heart, of course, but I don’t think they know that Dumbledore’s left you a task, and it’s probably best not to tell them, especially Mum. She’s a good person, but I think she doesn’t want to accept that we’ve grown up. She was upset when Fred and George joined the Order.

I don’t think Lupin and Mad-Eye completely agree with the Order’s new policy (I’m not sure I would have been able to get this to you if Lupin was in accordance with them on this one), and I doubt that Fred and George like it either, but I think the rest of the Order outvoted them.

The other thing is that I meant everything I said to you at Dumbledore’s funeral, and I understand your decision, but as soon as I’m of age myself, I intend to join this fight. I don’t know where you’ll be when that happens, Harry, but this is my fight as much as it is yours, Harry, and I will be fighting the Death Eaters, even if it means fighting to the death. If that ever happens, Harry, you are not to blame yourself. My family would be in deadly danger even had we never met you, and I need you to bear that in mind.

Hope to see you soon.

Love, Ginny.

Harry put the letter down and shut his eyes, unsure whether to smile or worry about the last paragraph in the letter. Of course, Ginny was not one to simply remain and home and wait for word, because she wanted to be in this fight as much as he did. Harry knew her disposition too well. Ginny had her own past to deal with; Voldemort had hurt her personally, had touched her in ways few could understand, and Harry knew that Ginny wouldn’t rest until she helped bring him down.

But there was also the more immediate point in this letter, and Harry sighed in frustration. He’d half-expected the Order to do something like this, but it indeed would make leaving much more difficult. He felt a rush of gratitude for Ginny for tipping him off.

Just as he made a mental note to inform Hermione about Ginny’s letter, she entered the room herself, staring at Ron in annoyance. Seeing Harry awake, she asked grumpily, “Does he always snore this loud?”

Harry smirked. “Usually, yeah. You share a dormitory with him for six years, though and you can sleep through anything.”

“Then why are you awake?”

“Dobby woke me up,” Harry told her, holding up the two letters. “They’re from Lupin and Ginny. Lupin says that someone will come by on Monday to escort us to the Burrow. Apparently they’ve seen a couple of Death Eaters in the area.”

A look of alarm briefly appeared on Hermione’s face, but she retained her composure, and said casually, “I suppose that’s only to be expected.”

Harry then handed her Ginny’s letter. “I think you’d better see this.”

Hermione scanned its contents, and a moment later, she groaned. “Should have realized that the Order would make things difficult. Lucky that we can depend on Ginny.”

“Depend on Ginny for what?” Ron asked, sitting up suddenly, and causing Harry and Hermione to start.

Hermione recovered first, and handed Ron the letter. “The Order’s making things complicated.”

“Bloody hell,” he breathed as soon as he read it. “How are we going to get started with this going on?”

“We’ll have to find a way around their protections,” Harry sighed. “As you know, they don’t know about the Horcruxes, and I don’t think they know the contents of the prophecy either. And it’s going to stay that way.”

“Quite right too,” Hermione stated, her expression thoughtful. “It’s like a conspiracy. The more people who are in on it, the less likely we are to succeed.”

“Then the best way out of this would be to leave before the Order completes the protections around the Burrow,” Harry added.

Hermione nodded. “I’ll start researching magical transportation, since we won’t be able to Apparate out of the Burrow. We need to consider all alternatives to get around the defenses. Harry, if you don’t mind, I think you should write down everything you can remember that Dumbledore told you. It will be of immense help to all of us.”

With that, she left the room. Harry groaned. “Blimey, it’s worse than the written O.W.L. exams.”

Ron didn’t answer. He was still looking at Ginny’s letter. “Harry, what’s she talking about in the last paragraph?”

Harry looked away guiltily. “She’s not going to stand in the sidelines, that’s all.”

“I know that’s what she’s saying,” Ron told him sharply. “None of us expected her to stay in the sidelines. What happened between you two?”

Harry didn’t answer, but Ron didn’t seem to require it. Pulling the strings together, he finally said, “You broke up with her, didn’t you?”

Harry inhaled deeply. “Yeah,” he said, bracing himself.

Ron stared for a moment, and then looked back at her letter. “That explains why she didn’t sit with us on the train back, and why you two barely said a word to each other in King’s Cross.”

Harry said nothing, but he heard Ron laugh humorlessly.

“I’m not going to hex you, or anything,” he told Harry. “Since she’s underage until next year, you can’t take her with you, and anyway, you promised Dumbledore that you wouldn’t tell anyone else about the Horcruxes. Still, you’ll have a lot to answer for once this is over.”

“And when will that be, Ron?” Harry demanded. “This probably will take years. We’re not going to be finding Horcruxes every other day, and I’m not sure how to destroy them either. And anyway, you know that we might not ever come back.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Ron snapped.

“Why not?” retorted Harry. “It’s a perfectly realistic consideration Ron. There’s a war on. People go out there, and they don’t always come back. I’ve said it before, most of the stuff I’ve done, the times I’ve thwarted or escaped Voldemort, involved a lot of luck. At some point, I might not be so lucky.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I think you should take the optimistic point of view, Ron said fairly. “When a man is convinced that he’s going to die tomorrow, he’ll probably find a way to make it happen. That’s why I’m not going to let you convince yourself that you won’t survive.”

Harry gaped at him. “When did you get all insightful?”

Ron smirked. “Sirius said that to us, summer before fifth year.”

“Way back then? And you remember it?”

"Prat." But Ron was still grinning, and Harry couldn't help but smile too.

********

Chapter 2A:
The Fidelius Charm

â€�“I visited the Weasleys on the pretense of needing to speak to their oldest son. A team of Aurors had to allow me entry. I wasn’t there long, but it’s apparent that the Order of the Phoenix has substantially increased the protections on the Burrow.”

â€�“That's not unexpected.”

â€�“All the Order's homes are protected, but not so heavily as the Burrow. They've either moved headquarters there, or they intend to hide Harry Potter there.”

â€�“The second seems more likely.”

â€�“Mr. Potter won’t stay there. Given his history, he'll start fighting on the front line, against the Order’s wishes if necessary.”

â€�“When he decides to make a move, though, we must be aware of it. We must be able to find him. And most importantly of all, we must be the first to find him.”

â€�“In that case, I have an idea.”

********

Because she was able to do so without bringing the Ministry of Magic’s wrath upon herself, Hermione Disapparated out of Privet Drive the morning Harry received Ginny’s letter to run some errand, though she did not say what. That became clear, however, when she returned an hour later heaving a huge stack of books to Harry’s room, where she found Harry at the desk scribbling in a small notebook, and Ron curiously examining some of the old broken Muggle stuff that Harry had stacked in a corner. Harry looked up as she entered, and handed her the notebook.

â€�“I’ve written what I know about the Horcruxes,” he told her, â€�“and I’m about finished with what I remember about Dumbledore’s visit to the orphanage.”

Hermione opened the notebook and looked over a page of Harry’s notes:

Item/Location
Diary --- Lucius Malfoy
Ring --- Gaunt shack
Locket --- R.A.B. (?) / Unknown
Hufflepuff’s Cup --- Unknown
Snake --- with Vdmt, probably
(?) --- Unknown

Last item likely something belonging to Gryffindor or Ravenclaw; sword is safe; Ravenclaw’s items?


â€�“We’ll have to do a bit of research on Gryffindor and Ravenclaw,” Hermione said as she scanned the list. â€�“That won’t be easy, though. There’s so much that’s unaccounted for. And I don’t suppose you have any leads on R.A.B.?”

Harry shook his head.

â€�“You sure this R.A.B. is a Death Eater?” asked Ron, as he bent over Dudley’s old computer.

â€�“He talks like one,” Harry pointed out, â€�“and he’d have to be close to Voldemort to do this.”

Hermione sighed. â€�“I probably should find a biography of the Founders.”

â€�“Especially one with some emphasis on any relics,” Harry added. He then looked over the pile of books Hermione had put on his bed. â€�“What are those?”

â€�“Books on methods of magical transportation, and a few on protective enchantments or on curses,” Hermione explained.

â€�“Good call,” Harry told her, nodding.

Ron picked up a computer mouse. â€�“What’s this thing?”

â€�“A mouse,” Hermione informed him, and Ron looked at her blankly.

Harry sniggered.

â€�“It’s not the animal,” Hermione added, exasperated. â€�“That’s what Muggles call it. It helps them operate computers. Here, let me show you…”

â€�“That computer’s been broken for years,” Harry told them. â€�“I’ve meant to throw it out for ages.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, and pointed her wand at the computer. â€�“Reparo!” She then plugged it into an outlet on her wall, and flipped the switch in the back. The computer hummed happily. As Hermione then proceeded to give Ron a short lesson about Muggle technology, he watched in fascination.

â€�“Suddenly I can see why Dad is so interested,” he said in wonder. â€�“Muggles are really amazing.”

Harry shook his head, still laughing at Ron's bemusement. He then picked up the notebook, which Hermione had left on the corner of his desk, and returned to his notes.

********

It took Harry that entire afternoon to write out his notes, but eventually he put his pen down and announced that he had put in everything he could remember. Hermione then read through his notes carefully, and asked Ron to do the same. The next day Hermione returned to Flourish and Blott’s and came back with a few books about the Hogwarts founders, which she immediately began reading.

After Ron finished reading Harry’s notes, the latter took the notebook back and began writing thoughts on the back pages, starting with places he knew Voldemort had visited, but he didn’t get far before they heard something tapping on the window, and Harry looked up to see a screech owl standing there, an official-looking letter clamped in its beak.

â€�“I thought the Order wasn’t sending mail via owl anymore,” Ron said.

Harry opened the window and took the letter from the owl, but instead of leaving, it fluttered down to Harry’s desk and waited there expectantly. Harry turned the envelope over, and stared at the seal.

â€�“It’s not from the Order,” he told Ron. â€�“It’s from Gringotts.”

â€�“Explains why it wasn’t intercepted,” Hermione said. â€�“The goblins have ways of protecting their correspondence. Wonder what they want, though?”

Ron snorted. â€�“They want to go over your finances, since you’re about to turn seventeen. They did the same with me, not that there’s much in my vault.”

Harry broke the seal and opened the letter.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We congratulate you on your coming of age next July, and since you will be coming of age, authorized access to your inheritance will be transferred to you. To complete authorization, we have arranged an appointment with an accountant on the 24th of July at 11:00. Please be present at Rok Grimrook’s office at that time.

If this does not meet with your convenience, please let us know immediately. Return our owl with a reply.

Sincerely,
Menger Gadlak
Assistant Manager

â€�“Ron, when is Bill’s wedding?” asked Harry.

â€�“July 26th.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t have anything else planned, so he pulled a fresh sheet of paper from his desk and wrote out a reply, which the owl snatched up before fluttering out the window.

â€�“Thing number two is getting the Order off my back long enough for me to get to Gringotts at that time,” Harry grumbled.

Ron immediately suggested that he ask Bill to escort him to the bank on that day. It was a sensible solution that would get the rest of the Order to relax, particularly Mrs. Weasley, and Bill knew the goblins.

Over the next few days without a word from the Order about his departing, Harry became increasingly restless. Though Hermione and sometimes Ron went out to bring back research materials or other items for their use, they couldn’t do much at Privet Drive, not while Harry was effectively imprisoned there. Lupin had said that they might be able to move him to the Burrow on Monday, but Monday came and went, much to Harry’s annoyance. He began to consider having Hermione Disapparate him and Ron to Ottery St. Catchpole and then walk to the Burrow, and face the consequences later, although he knew that Hermione wouldn’t likely agree with this idea, especially after she caught a glimpse of a hooded man down the next street as she returned from the grocery store.

Harry was only relieved that there were, so far, only a couple of Death Eaters stationed in Little Whinging, but he had a nasty feeling that their numbers would increase as Harry’s birthday drew closer. Again he wondered what the Order was planning for the Dursleys’ protection, and finally he decided to warn his aunt about the impending situation.

On Tuesday Harry went downstairs to find his aunt on the phone with a neighbor. As he approached, she turned around and saw him standing there. Her brow furrowed as Harry mouthed to her, â€�“A word!” and pointed at the lounge where he’d wait for her. She made no reply, but continued talking, and Harry, knowing that his point had been made, stepped into the adjacent room and lowered himself onto one of the armchairs, waiting.

A couple of minutes later, Petunia finally stepped into the lounge. â€�“What is it?”

â€�“We’ll probably be leaving in the next couple of days or so,” Harry told her, â€�“but there’s something you ought to know before we leave. You’re aware of the danger I’m in, right?”

She said nothing, but Harry understood that she knew what he referred to.

â€�“The protective enchantments around this house will break as soon as I come of age,” Harry informed her, deciding to come to the point immediately.

Petunia paled, but her expression didn’t change otherwise.

â€�“I’ve already had a letter informing me that a couple of Voldemort’s followers have been wandering around Little Whinging,” Harry continued quietly. â€�“They can’t touch you while the enchantments are in place, but that will change in August.”

â€�“Let me guess,” Petunia snapped. â€�“They’ll come here and kill us or torture us for your whereabouts.”

Harry nodded, somewhat relieved that Petunia was quicker on the uptake than Vernon or Dudley.

â€�“Then you have a responsibility to make sure they can’t do so,” she told him tersely.

â€�“Dumbledore’s people are going to arrange something for your safety,” Harry informed her. â€�“I don’t know the details yet, but someone will come here discuss it.”

â€�“Can’t they put up new protections?” she asked.

Harry was somewhat amused that Petunia so readily accepted magic for once. â€�“I suppose they might,” he said thoughtfully, â€�“but I should be honest; I think it’s more likely that they might relocate your family.”

â€�“They want us to move away?”

â€�“It’s a better alternative than staying here,” Harry pointed out as he stood up. â€�“But as I said, I don’t know the details. Somebody will come here to discuss this, probably after Dudley comes home so that he’ll be here for it too. I’m just letting you know, although I think it better if you tell Uncle Vernon yourself, and not me. He’s already unhappy enough with me as it is.”

His aunt nodded grudgingly.

â€�“When exactly will they be here?” she asked as he made to leave the room.

Harry shrugged. â€�“Not sure. I think in the next couple of days.”

He didn’t remain for his aunt’s reply, but returned to his room, where Ron and Hermione waited for him. He felt slightly relieved. On the whole, it went better than he expected.

The Order finally came on Wednesday, the day Dudley was due to come home from Smeltings. Harry didn’t pay much attention to the sharp rap he heard downstairs, but Ron, who was at his window, glanced outside, and grinned.

â€�“Mad-Eye’s here.”

Hermione immediately stood, and flicked her wand, so that all her things packed themselves into her rucksack. Harry had already packed his school trunk with all his belongings, so after stuffing his notebook into his own rucksack, he pulled it on and picked up Hedwig’s cage. Just as Ron finished repacking his own rucksack, Aunt Petunia appeared in his doorway.

â€�“The man with the horrible eye is here,” she told him. â€�“I assume he’s taking you away?”

Harry nodded. â€�“Thanks for letting us stay here,” he said politely. Aunt Petunia pursed her lips, but didn’t reply.

Mad-Eye was leaning over the counter examining the toaster, when Harry and Ron lugged the trunk into the kitchen, Hermione trailing behind them.

â€�“There you three are,” he said without turning to look at them, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the startled expression on his aunt’s face as she too entered the kitchen. Mad-Eye straightened and turned to look at them properly. â€�“You’re all ready to go then? Good.” Looking at Harry’s aunt, Mad-Eye told her, â€�“Your son will arrive home today, correct?”

She nodded, avoiding looking at his scarred face. â€�“At five o’ clock.”

â€�“One of us will come here at about seven to discuss your safety,” he told her. â€�“That will give you time to inform your husband and son. The bloke who’s coming will be a tall man, name of Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

Petunia nodded, still looking everywhere but at Moody’s eye. The ex-Auror then turned back into the kitchen, tugged the dustbin out from the counter, and promptly began rummaging through it.

â€�“What are you doing?” Petunia demanded, but Moody ignored her until he pulled out a tin can, and placing it on the counter, he pointed his wand at it. â€�“Portus.”

The can glowed blue for a moment.

â€�“Do you have authorization to do that?” Hermione asked.

â€�“Of course I do,” Mad-Eye told her. â€�“But even if I didn't there are ways of creating Portkeys without the Ministry detecting it. The Death Eaters have been doing so for years, you know, and lately we’ve worked out how they do it. Just ask Fred and George.”

Hermione had an interested look on her face, which told Harry that she would do just that as soon as she got the opportunity. Mad-Eye placed his finger on the can, and the others did the same.

â€�“Fifteen seconds,” Mad-Eye said.

Harry looked at his aunt. â€�“Well, good-bye,” he offered awkwardly.

Her eyes met his, and Harry was surprised by the smallest trace of sadness. â€�“Good luck,” she said, just as Harry felt the tug behind his navel, and his aunt vanished.

The Portkey brought them to the backyard of the Burrow, and Harry, who had landed a bit hard, stumbled forward a foot. Hedwig batted her wings against the bars of her cage and hooted indignantly. Beside Harry, Ron grunted and extracted his foot from a gnome hole; two gnomes were shaking their tiny fists at him from a rock nearby.

â€�“Oh, you’re all here!” someone cried from the back door. Harry looked up to see Mrs. Weasley running to greet them.

â€�“Morning, Molly,” Mad-Eye said, nodding to her as she pulled Ron into a hug, and then Harry. â€�“We got here easily enough.”

â€�“I hope your relatives weren’t too bad,” Mrs. Weasley told Harry as she pulled Hermione into a hug as well.

â€�“It could have been worse,” Harry said. â€�“Uncle Vernon wasn’t there when we left, and that made departing easier.”

â€�“I don’t envy Kingsley, though, when he goes over there tonight,” Ron added, smirking.

â€�“What’s going to happen to them, anyway?” Harry asked Mad-Eye.

â€�“The North American Magical Confederation has started a new program protecting Muggle or Muggle-born families fleeing Britain, so we’re making arrangements for the Dursleys to move to a quiet corner of Saskatchewan,” Mad-Eye grunted, but he was smirking.

â€�“Uncle Vernon’s going to flip,” Harry said gleefully.

â€�“I ought to get back to headquarters,” Mad-Eye said. â€�“I’ll see you tomorrow, when we put in the new Fidelius, Molly.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded, and Mad-Eye limped over to the gate and began making his way across the grassy field toward what Harry assumed to be the anti-Apparition border Ginny had mentioned.

â€�“Come on in, then!” Mrs. Weasley said, ushering the four of them inside. â€�“I’ve already got some breakfast started.”

Ron lowered himself onto a chair at the kitchen table. â€�“Cheers, Mum.”

â€�“So, how are the wedding plans going?” asked Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley sighed. â€�“All the invitations are made and sent, but soon we’ll have to tidy the house up for the guests’ arrival in a couple of weeks.”

â€�“But the wedding’s not until the twenty-sixth!” Ron said, bewildered.

â€�“Yes, but Fleur’s parents will be here before that,” Mrs. Weasley pointed out.

At that moment, an owl flew through the window and dropped a letter with the Hogwarts seal onto the table. Mrs. Weasley picked it up, and as she did, Harry saw Ginny suddenly appear in the kitchen door. Their eyes instantly met, but before either of them could say or do anything, Mrs. Weasley caught sight of her.

â€�“There you are.” She held up the letter. â€�“This is for you. I expect it’s your O.W.L. results.”

Ginny took the envelope and sat down next to Harry and Hermione. â€�“Hello, Harry,” she said cheerfully.

â€�“Erm, hi,” he replied feebly.

â€�“Glad to see you lot got here in one piece,” she added, glancing at Ron and Hermione. â€�“No trouble from the Muggles, I take it?”

Harry smiled inwardly. Trust Ginny to pretend that nothing had happened between them before or after Dumbledore’s funeral. At least she’d renew normal friendship with him, though that thought was wrenching to him.

â€�“Nope,” sniggered Ron. â€�“Though I’m glad I won’t be there when Kingsley visits them today.”

The conversation continued normally from there, moving from wedding plans to the eight O.W.L.s Ginny had received (to her mother’s delight), and soon Harry found himself able to speak to Ginny with less embarrassment.

It was when Mrs. Weasley began discussing plans for the week preceding Bill’s wedding that Harry remembered his appointment at the bank, and interrupted.

â€�“Mrs. Weasley, if it’s all right with you, I might have to miss at least part of the day you’ve planned with the Delacours on the twenty-fourth.”

Mrs. Weasley and Ginny looked at Harry in surprise. â€�“Why?” the former asked suspiciously.

â€�“I got a letter from Gringotts,” Harry told her. â€�“They want me to meet with an accountant that morning.”

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. â€�“Harry, it’s too dangerous for you to go to Diagon Alley these days.”

â€�“Mum, I hardly think that one trip to Gringotts will be…” Ginny started, but Mrs. Weasley cut across her.

â€�“You’ll have to cancel your appointment,” she said sharply.

â€�“Until when?” Harry asked, annoyed. â€�“They said there were matters they needed to go over with me before I turn seventeen. I don’t care how dangerous it is outside, I’d like access to my vault at Gringotts, no matter who’s trying to kill me!”

â€�“Mum, why can’t somebody escort Harry there?” asked Ron. â€�“The goblins won’t be too happy if he postpones this.”

â€�“And frankly,” Harry told Mrs. Weasley, â€�“these are my finances we’re talking about. I’m going to Gringotts that day, whether you like it or not.”

Mrs. Weasley huffed. â€�“Very well,” she snapped, â€�“but not without Arthur or Mad-Eye with you.”

â€�“Fair enough,” Harry said, as she began scooping scrambled eggs onto their plates.

********

â€�“You’ll have to forgive Mum,” Ginny told him half an hour later as she flung a gnome over the garden hedge. After breakfast, Mrs. Weasley had given her, Harry, and Ron the task of cleaning out the gnomes while she and Hermione changed the sheets in the twins’ old room for Harry’s use. â€�“Since Dumbledore’s death, she’s been unwilling to let any of us out of her sight.”

Ron scowled. â€�“She can’t keep protecting us like this. We’re not children anymore!”

â€�“I wish it were as simple as that,” Ginny sighed, â€�“but the Order’s being ridiculous too. They haven’t taken well to Dumbledore’s death. They try to hide it, but it’s plain to me that they don’t know what to do.” She looked at Harry. â€�“They’ve made it a priority to keep you protected; it makes them feel like they’re doing something useful.”

â€�“Yes, thanks for warning us about that,” Harry said sincerely. â€�“I take it we’re not supposed to know about Hogwarts closing yet?”

Ginny shook her head. â€�“I found out eavesdropping on Mum and Hestia Jones,” she said resentfully. â€�“They haven’t seen fit to actually tell me yet. That’s why Mum got all excited about me getting my O.W.L.s, even though they’re indefinitely meaningless.” She then asked Harry curiously, â€�“When are you leaving, anyway?”

Harry hesitated, and glanced at Ron, who said, â€�“You know we can’t tell you what we’re doing, Ginny.”

â€�“I never asked what you’re doing,” she replied evenly. â€�“I know there are things you can’t tell me, but I’d like to be forewarned, in case you three decide to disappear in the middle of the night.”

Harry finally relented. â€�“As soon as I have my Apparation license.”

Ginny nodded. â€�“I figured as much. Hopefully the Order won’t have finished sealing you in before then. You’d better not tell Mum, though. If she finds out, she’ll have your wands sealed in her Gringotts vault in two seconds flat.”

Harry growled, but didn’t’ answer.

Ron looked between them for a moment, then said, â€�“I’d better go see if Hermione’s finished yet.”

As he hurried away, Ginny asked Harry, â€�“You got my letter, then?”

He nodded, and she exhaled. â€�“Don’t tell anyone I said this, but thanks to Fred and George and their Extendable Ears, I think that the Death Eaters have more influence in the Ministry than the Order wants you to know at present.”

â€�“Big surprise,” Harry muttered.

â€�“From what I’ve heard, Death Eater sympathizers haven’t reached any of the really important positions,” she added, â€�“but from what I've heard, it won't be long.”

â€�“Undoubtedly that’s the reason the Order’s gone all over-protective,” Harry surmised, feeling even more resentful.

â€�“Among other reasons,” Ginny said. She then looked at him, her face expressionless, but Harry could see the sadness and insecurity in her eyes, the same fears he himself felt. They then spoke at the same time.

â€�“Harry”---

â€�“Ginny, I”---

They stared at each other, and Harry felt a sudden wave of longing as he realized that this was the first time they had been alone together since those hours he’d spent with Ginny at Hogwarts only a few weeks before. Harry nodded to Ginny nervously, allowing her to speak first.

â€�“I just want you to know,” she said quietly, her eyes fixed on his, â€�“that even if we don’t see each other again for months or years after this, you’ll always have my support. If you ever need me at your side, fighting with you, I’ll be there.”

Harry nodded. â€�“You said as much in your letter, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

She took his hand and held it tightly, as though afraid he’d pull away, but Harry, in spite of the fact that they split up, felt no inclination to do so, preferring to take this small offering of comfort before his departure. She then stepped a bit closer, and kissed his cheek. Harry thought he could see the smallest hint of a tear threatening to fall from her eyes, and he felt his own eyes water too.

It was only when they heard Mrs. Weasley calling her daughter back inside that Ginny finally let go of his hand, giving him one final, stoic look before she returned to the house.

********

The death of Albus Dumbledore had put enormous strain on the Order of the Phoenix, but the betrayal of Severus Snape was a serious blow to them. Where Albus Dumbledore’s Order had been wary but trusting of their leader, the Order of the Phoenix as run by Alastor Moody had become as alert and almost as paranoid as he was. They were determined to prevent such treachery from their membership.

Renewing the Fidelius Charm was a part of this campaign. Until then security would be tighter at Grimmauld Place than that of a Muggle airport. As he wasn’t the old Secret Keeper, Snape couldn’t bring other Death Eaters into headquarters, nor could he tell them its rough location. Mad-Eye Moody had no reason to fear that. But the old Fidelius Charm would not prevent Snape from entering Grimmauld Place himself.

Harry was told all this at the breakfast table the morning after he arrived at the Burrow, but as Ginny had already told him that the Order intended to renew the Fidelius Charm, the details were the only new information he got. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley either was forbidden to tell him the name of the new secret keeper, or he didn’t know himself. What surprised Harry was that Moody wanted him present when they renewed the charm.

â€�“He doesn’t want me to be the new Secret Keeper, does he?” Harry asked, alarmed. Though he had no intention of betraying the Order to the Death Eaters, he could hardly function as a Secret Keeper if he was out hunting Horcruxes.

â€�“Of course not,” Mr. Weasley reassured him, looking amused. â€�“The new Secret Keeper will be a member of the Order, which you are not. No, you will just be asked to act as a witness. It’s a part of the process.”

Mrs. Weasley huffed nearby, but said nothing. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at her in surprised, but Mr. Weasley sighed and Ginny rolled her eyes. Mr. Weasley bravely ignored his wife’s obvious objection to this, and added, â€�“The witnesses’ primary purpose is to seal the bond between the Secret Keeper and the secret, and also to prevent any confusion as to the identity of the Secret Keeper.”

â€�“That failed in my parents’ case,” Harry muttered.

Mr. Weasley nodded. â€�“Sirius was their original Secret Keeper, as you know, but when Lily cast their new Fidelius Charm, and Sirius renounced that duty in favor of Wormtail, the old charm was void. Since nobody knew about the second charm…” His voice trailed away.

â€�“What’s the process?” asked Hermione curiously. â€�“I understand that the Fidelius Charm is a complicated spell.”

â€�“You heard right,” Mr. Weasley said, â€�“but I’m afraid I don’t know the exact process. But you’ll see it for yourself today. Alastor invited you, Ron, and Ginny to be witnesses as well.”

â€�“What?” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

â€�“And speaking of which,” Mr. Weasley continued, pretending there had been no interruption, â€�“we ought to leave for Grimmauld Place in about half an hour.”

With that, Mr. Weasley stood up and exited the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley forcefully jabbed her wand in the direction of the frying pan from which she had just served her children their eggs, and hissed, â€�“Scourgify!” before she followed her husband out the kitchen door as well.

â€�“And the quarrel begins,” Ron muttered. He then looked at his sister in confusion. â€�“Surely Mum doesn’t think there will be any danger in us being present at this? It’s not like the Death Eaters are going to crash the party.”

Ginny rolled her eyes again. â€�“As far as Mum’s concerned, our being present might as well be our own induction into the Order. She doesn’t like any of us being involved in any of it.”

A few minutes later, Mr. Weasley came back downstairs and told them to get ready to go. Ten minutes later, they took the Floo Network to Grimmauld Place. Harry had hardly stumbled out of the connecting fireplace, however, before he found Hestia Jones’s wandtip stationed between his eyes. In another corner of the sitting room where they stood, Harry could see Kingsley questioning Ron and Ginny.

Before Hestia could say anything, however, Harry heard Lupin’s voice calmly say, â€�“Cast your Patronus, Harry. The Ministry won’t detect it here.”

Harry hesitantly raised his wand, and pointed it to the side, and cast his mind about for some happy memory, eventually settling on a spring evening in the Gryffindor Common Room, as he stepped through the portrait hole to find Gryffindor celebrating the Quidditch victory they had achieved in his absence, and then Ginny ran towards him with her hard, blazing expression…

â€�“Expecto Patronum!” Harry cried, and the silvery stag burst from his wand, cantered its way around the room, and then dissipated.

â€�“Definitely Harry Potter,” Lupin told Hestia with a smirk, as the latter lowered her wand. â€�“If you’ll follow me, Harry…”

He steered Harry out of the sitting room and quietly past Mrs. Black’s portrait. As soon as they turned a corner, Lupin looked at Harry.

â€�“Sorry about that. It’s been like this since Albus died.”

â€�“I was forewarned,” Harry told him, shrugging. â€�“Glad you know what to ask me, though.” As they began to climb the stairs, he asked, â€�“Am I allowed to know who the new Secret Keeper is yet?”

Lupin nodded. â€�“Aberforth Dumbledore.”

â€�“Professor Dumbledore’s brother?”

â€�“You’ve heard of him then?” asked Lupin. â€�“But then again, you’ve been to the Hog’s Head, so you’ve met him. He’s the bartender there.”

This surprised Harry. â€�“Nobody ever told me that.”

â€�“Not a lot of people know that,” Lupin told him, smirking. â€�“Most of Hogsmeade and the Hogwarts students just know him as ‘Abe,’ and not many people would expect a relation of Dumbledore’s to have such a job. Strange bloke. But he’s been in the Order longer than anyone, except perhaps Elphias Doge.”

They then stepped into the drawing room. Harry blinked as soon as he stepped inside, surprised at the change in décor. The last time he had been here, he and the Weasleys had spent three days decontaminating the room of hexed items and doxies, but the olive-green walls had been changed to a deep vermilion not unlike the scarlet of the Gryffindor Common Room, and the dusty furniture had been replaced with new, more modern furnishings, though the red armchairs and other items had been swept aside to clear a space in the center of the room. In fact, the only thing about the drawing room that looked at all the same was the Black family tapestry. Harry supposed that the Order still had been unable to get rid of it, though he noticed with satisfaction that someone had managed to change "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black: Toujours Pur" to "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Inbreeding: No Wonder They’re All Psychotic."

â€�“Whoa!” Ron exclaimed as he, Ginny, and Hermione also stepped into the room, Kingsley and Mr. Weasley just behind them.

â€�“Brilliant, isn’t it?” asked Lupin, grinning. â€�“You’d be surprised what Andromeda Tonks can do when she puts her mind to it.”

â€�“She’s certainly got better taste than Sirius’s mum,” Ginny said, grinning.

â€�“Well, now that you’re here, you might as well make yourselves at home,” Kingsley told them as he sidestepped Ron and Ginny. â€�“Aberforth and Mad-Eye aren’t here yet, nor any of the other witnesses.”

Harry lowered himself into one of the two new sofas, and Lupin, Ginny, and Hermione joined him there.

â€�“So,” Harry said slowly, â€�“What’ve you been up to, apart from putting up additional security measures?”

â€�“This and that,” Lupin said quietly. â€�“I’ve been trying to obtain information about the Death Eaters’ movements from the other werewolves, but it’s not much. The werewolves think they’d have a better life under Voldemort, but the Death Eaters look down on them as much as anyone else ever did, and certainly don’t give them much information.”

â€�“And the werewolves still follow him?” Hermione asked, surprised.

â€�“Bit hard to back out once they’re in,” Lupin said, shrugging. â€�“If Greyback doesn’t kill a defector first, Voldemort will. Werewolves, however, aren’t the only concern, however. Kingsley told me yesterday that the Ministry got wind of several attacks on Muggle settlements in which Inferi were involved. It’s the first confirmed incident since Voldemort’s return. I expect it will be in the papers today.”

All the others shuddered.

â€�“Did the Aurors get there in time?” asked Harry, feeling nauseous as he remembered the Inferi in the cave where Voldemort had hidden the locket.

Lupin shook his head. â€�“By the time they got there, the Inferi were gone. I expect it will be in the papers today. I just hope that the Daily Prophet doesn’t learn that some eyewitnesses swear that they saw Inferi doing magic. People will be panicked enough as it is.”

â€�“Inferi can’t do magic,” Hermione protested. â€�“They haven’t got a magical core.”

â€�“I never said that the rumor was true,” Lupin replied quietly. â€�“Only that it’s started circulating.”

At that moment, Mad-Eye entered the room, followed closely by the Hog's Head bartender, Aberforth Dumbledore. Harry watched him with interest, noticing that he only vaguely resembled Albus, but had the same eyes. He had dressed in brown robes for the occasion, but otherwise looked as gruff as he ever had at the Hog’s Head.

Fred, George, and Tonks followed Moody and Aberforth inside. The twins saluted Harry and their siblings, but Mad-Eye cut across them before they could say anything.

â€�“Right,” he said loudly as Hestia and Elphias Doge entered the room as well. â€�“Now that you’re all here, we might as well begin. Everyone stand up and stand in a circle, please.”

The others did as requested.

â€�“All of you,” Mad-Eye told them, â€�“are here as witnesses. As such, all you have to do is watch the proceedings, which cements the magical bind as I cast it. That’s the first step.”

With that, he pointed his wand up in the air, and moved it slowly in a circular motion. â€�“Convenemus,” he uttered.

A beam of silvery light burst from Mad-Eye’s wand and struck the ceiling, from which it splintered, and encircled the entire group in cage of light. Energy seemed to emanate from it, and it made Harry shiver slightly. But the cage of light was only visible for a second; it vanished suddenly, but Harry could still feel the energy pulsating around them, and knew it was still there.

Mad-Eye then pointed his wand at Aberforth. â€�“Tibi mandamus arcanum nostrum, Aberforth Dumbledore, es custodem arcani.”

The energy seemed to strengthen for a moment, and immediately after Mad-Eye finished chanting, he said loudly and clearly, â€�“Aberforth Dumbledore is the Secret Keeper of the Order of the Phoenix, and the headquarters thereof may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, in Islington, London. Fidelius.”

As he said the last word, Mad-Eye pointed his wand upward again. The cage of light immediately reappeared, flashing a fiery red, and then just as suddenly, it dissipated.

Mad-Eye lowered his wand. Kingsley, Tonks, and Lupin stepped out of the circle, and Harry realized that he must have finished casting the charm.

â€�“That was quicker than I expected,” he said to Lupin, twenty minutes later, after Mrs. Weasley and the twins shifted the furniture back into place, and at Hestia’s invitation, those still at Grimmauld Place remained for tea. Mr. Weasley and Kingsley had left for work at the Ministry.

â€�“Quick,” Lupin replied, â€�“but difficult to cast. Still, hopefully we can lessen the security here now.”

â€�“I’m sure that’s a relief.”

At that moment, there was a loud crash, and Harry and Lupin both looked around to see Tonks scrambling to clear up a smashed teacup and the stain on the carpet. Lupin promptly stood and repaired the cup with a wave of his wand, and then, as Harry watched in some bemusement, he Summoned the teapot and poured Tonks a fresh cup. On the other side of the room, he saw Ginny and Hermione watching, looking amused.

â€�“How’s it going with Tonks?” Harry asked Lupin as he returned to his seat. â€�“Heard you’re together now.”

He nodded, grinning. â€�“I’m glad Molly knocked sense into me. Reminded me of Lily. If she’d known about my behavior last year, she probably would have hexed me into the Dark Ages.”

Harry stared at Lupin, at first unable to comprehend this of his mother, who’d always been described as a remarkably kind woman, but then he remembered Snape’s memory of Lily shouting at James in their fifth year. For the first time upon reflection of that uncomfortable memory, Harry smirked.

Then Lupin’s expression grew more serious, and he said in a low voice, â€�“I hear you had your own fair share of romance last year too.”

Harry’s smile faded, and he felt his face grow hot. â€�“Ginny and I aren’t going out anymore.”

Lupin nodded thoughtfully. â€�“Not unlike myself last year, though I think your reasoning is better than mine was.” He glanced across the room, where Ginny was in conversation with Hermione and Tonks. â€�“Just bear in mind, Harry, that you may need her before the end.”

Harry stared at Lupin, but the latter then stood up and crossed the room to join Tonks in conversation with Ginny and Hermione. Harry watched them for some time, trying so hard to comprehend Lupin’s statement that he started when a gnarly hand rested on his shoulder. It was Aberforth.

â€�“Potter,” he greeted quietly. â€�“I believe we’ve met in Hogsmeade, but I’ve never introduced myself to you.”

Harry nodded solemnly, and shook Aberforth’s hand. â€�“Pleased to meet you.”

â€�“I’m glad you’re here,” Aberforth continued. â€�“Mad-Eye invited you and your friends on my request.”

Harry frowned. â€�“How come? We’re not in the Order.”

Aberforth glanced around the room, and then he said in an undertone, â€�“I spoke to Albus before he died. Whatever you’re planning, Potter, do it quickly. That’s all I came here to say.”

Stunned, Harry simply nodded, unable to think of a reply. Aberforth returned the nod and then promptly quitted the room, but Harry watched him go, wondering just how much Aberforth knew about his task.

********

â€�“No! No, please!”

â€�“Begging for mercy? You shall have none. You do not deserve to live, Ginny, not after all you have done, all I have made you do.”

A girl with red hair was hissing silently in a corridor, late at night, as a boy with mousy hair, carrying a camera and a bunch of grapes, turned a corner.

â€�“Ginny?” he gasped, staring at the girl’s pale face and steely eyes. The girl made no response, she just continued hissing, and the boy turned and raised his camera just as something huge and serpentine stirred from the shadows. The boy fell, his face frozen in shock, stiff as a board.

Tom laughed mercilessly.

â€�“I trusted you!” Ginny cried.

â€�“Then you are a weak, powerless fool, and you are mine!”

Ginny gasped and sat up abruptly, frantically looking around in the darkness for the pale, sneering face of Tom Riddle, but a light snore nearby her brought her back to the present. The room seemed very dark initially, but as she caught her breath, she was better able to see around her room, which was dimly lit by the half-moon outside. Hermione slept on a mattress on the floor nearby, thankfully undisturbed by Ginny’s fitful sleep.

Ginny sighed and wiped some of the cold sweat from her brow, wishing her hands would stop shaking, but then she slid out of bed, afraid to return to sleep only to return to her nightmares. There was a time, between her third and fourth years at school, when she would sometimes go weeks without the nighttime visions of the Chamber of Secrets. After Dumbledore had died, she began experiencing them almost every night.

She slipped past Hermione and out into the hall, trudging into the bathroom, where she turned on the sink and splashed cold water into her face, washing away the sweat and tears, and avoiding looking in the mirror, because it was at these times that she felt acute self-loathing. There had been some summer days where she had woken Hermione up after crying out at night, but Ginny felt as though she had no right to confide in her friend. Hermione had almost died because of her.

When she finished drying her face, Ginny quietly made her way down the stairs toward the kitchen, feeling a strong need for a glass of water. As she always did, she tried to force the images from the Chamber from her mind as she filled the glass.

â€�“Ginny?”

She almost dropped the glass. She hadn’t noticed, as she entered the kitchen absorbed in her self-incriminating thoughts, that Harry was already seated on the kitchen table.

â€�“What are you doing up?” she asked.

â€�“Couldn’t sleep,” Harry said, shrugging. â€�“You?”

She nodded. â€�“Same.”

They were silent for a long time. Then Harry asked hesitantly, â€�“Do you want to take a walk outside? It helps to clear your head.”

They wouldn’t be able to go out of sight of the house without someone in the Order immediately turning up to escort them back, but Ginny nodded after a minute, and Harry’s chair scraped on the kitchen floor as he stood up. He opened the back door up for her to allow her to step outside first, and Ginny’s eyes were immediately drawn to the dark sky, where she could see the constellation Cygnus rising in the east.

She and Harry slowly walked out into the garden, neither saying a word for a few minutes, until Ginny asked, â€�“So what woke you up?”

â€�“I never went to sleep,” Harry admitted. â€�“Had too much on my mind. What about you?”

Ginny hesitated. â€�“Nightmare.”

Harry fell silent for a minute. Then he asked, â€�“Do you want to talk about it?”

Ginny was startled by the request, perhaps because she hadn’t talked about her dreams since she was twelve or thirteen. Every time she did, she heard Riddle taunting her for being weak, and she never wanted to seem weak.

â€�“It’s silly, really,” she said, shaking her head.

Harry scrutinized her for a moment, and then he looked at the stars, and lowered himself onto one of the rickety garden benches.

â€�“They never change,” he said, staring at Cygnus as well. â€�“Peaceful, not like down here.”

Ginny nodded sadly. â€�“Here everything’s changed. It’s comforting to know, however, that at least the sky won’t change. Not unless Voldemort somehow finds a way to completely block out starlight.”

â€�“Merlin forbid,” Harry muttered.

They fell silent again. Ginny looked at Harry, who’s eyes were still fixed upon the stars, but his expression was stoic and resigned, not unlike the days before Dumbledore’s funeral, or the week or so after Sirius died.

Then something seemed to break inside her, causing her carefully guarded thoughts to come spilling out of her before she could stop herself.

â€�“Ever since the Chamber of Secrets,” she said quietly, â€�“I’ve had nightmares about it, about the things Riddle said and did to me, and sometimes I’ve dreamed about things that didn’t happen, but could have. It’s what woke me up tonight.”

Harry looked concerned. â€�“How often do you have these nightmares?”

Ginny closed her eyes, trying to control her thoughts and emotions before she started crying again. Then she admitted, â€�“All the time.”

Harry nodded sympathetically, as though he understood, which, Ginny realized, was why she had suddenly found herself confiding in him, where in recent years she had confided to no one else. His own experiences with Voldemort weren’t the same as hers, but he too had a personal history with Voldemort that ran even deeper than physical torture or the threat of death.

â€�“He made me relive the attacks,” Ginny continued, unable to meet Harry’s eyes. â€�“In the Chamber he made me watch everything I’d been forced to do. Every time I get near a Dementor, and sometimes in these nightmares, I see myself setting that bloody Basilisk on Colin or Justin Finch-Fletchley or Hermione…” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. â€�“But still worse, he then forced images into my head, usually his own memories or his own sick thoughts, things he would… he would do to people…”

It was at this point that her voice broke, and she couldn’t continue, nor could she stop the tears from streaming from her eyes. She buried her face in her hands, unable to look at Harry; she didn’t want to see his anger or his pity, because it reinforced her own humiliation and shame at the things he still didn’t know, the reason behind the bitter self-disgust she always felt when her past revisited her. But to her surprise, Harry immediately pulled her into a tight embrace. Ginny buried her face into his shoulder, but she forced down the sobs that threatened to erupt from her, instead simply sitting there in his arms, allowing herself to accept the comfort he offered.

After a few minutes, when she thought she’d completely regained control over herself, she pulled away from Harry. They sat in silence for some time, then, needing to move, to do something, Ginny looked at her watch, and was startled to see that it was almost four in the morning.

â€�“I should go back to bed,” she muttered, wishing she didn’t sound like she had a head cold. â€�“And you should go get some sleep.”

Harry nodded quietly, and stood up. Together they went back toward the house, but the short walk seemed to take an age. As Harry opened the back door, however, and started to step inside, Ginny reached out and his arm, holding him back.

â€�“Thanks for listening,” she told him quietly. â€�“I think I needed it.”

Harry smiled, and when she released him, he took her hand in his, and surprised her yet again when he gently tilted her chin up and then leaned forward to press a chaste kiss on her lips. Then he stepped away and went back inside, pausing only to bid her good night.

To her relief, Ginny’s nightmares didn’t return for the rest of the night.

********

Chapter 2B
Gringotts

Bill and Fleur weren’t present for the first couple of weeks in which Harry stayed at the Burrow, because they had gone to France to visit Fleur’s parents, who were due to arrive at the Weasleys’ a few days before Harry’s Gringotts appointment. As the wedding drew nearer, Mrs. Weasley began obsessively assigning everyone in the house numerous chores, ranging from tidying up the front room to weeding the garden (a rarity at the Burrow). The day of the Delacours’ arrival was stressful for all quarters, as Mrs. Weasley frantically had Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny scour what felt like the entire house for the smallest speck of dirt or the slightest untidiness in a way that Harry felt would put Aunt Petunia to shame. She argued with Ron about cleaning the chicken coop (which had already been done the day before) for reasons which he couldn’t fathom, and made Hermione and Ginny repeatedly tidy up Percy’s old room for M. and Mme. Delacour’s use, which caused Ginny to mutinously comment that if she and Hermione cleaned the floor one more time, they’d dissolve a hole through it.

The result of all this was that Mrs. Weasley was so busy preparing for the Delacours’ arrival that she wasn’t present when they actually did arrive. The rest of the household only found out when Bill and Fleur went upstairs in search of his mother and found Ginny and Hermione grumpily exiting the Delacours’ room. Seeing Fleur prompted the former to go upstairs another floor and shout, â€�“MUM! They’re here!” to the relief of all others in the house, and to which Mrs. Weasley legged it down the stairs to greet them.

M. Delacour was a squat, jolly man who was fond of the French game Pétanique, and who took an instant liking to the Weasley family and to Harry and Hermione. His wife, who looked like an older version of Fleur, was more reserved than her husband, but Mme. Delacour was very gracious to her hosts, and helped Mrs. Weasley cook lunch. They brought their eleven-year-old daughter, Gabrielle, with them, who looked away and blushed spectacularly when Harry greeted her. Reminded of Ginny at that age, Harry couldn’t help but turn to her and wink in amusement, which caused her to roll her eyes.

When everyone settled down, Harry and Ginny were left to the task of assisting Fleur and Mrs. Weasley with dinner, and as he sat at the table peeling potatoes, Harry looked outside and observed Kingsley and Hestia Jones in the distance, moving about the perimeter with their wands out, and he assumed that they were strengthening the wards around the Burrow. Harry glanced across the table and saw that Ginny observed them too, because she was staring out the window with her brow furrowed. He only hoped that the wards would still be unfinished by his birthday, which wasn’t for another eight days.

Harry caught Ginny’s eye as he returned to the potatoes, but neither of them said anything, not wanting to draw Mrs. Weasley’s attention. Ever since Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrived at the Burrow, Ginny had gone out of her way to arrange places for them to get together and plan their departure, while distracting her mother with a new chore to take care of. Harry suspected that Ginny sometimes deliberately caused messes or problems simply to keep her mother busy. Thus far, she was successful. By all appearances, Mrs. Weasley suspected nothing. Harry was stunned at the lengths Ginny went to in order to help them in what ways she could, even though they both knew that these last few days at the Burrow could very well be the last time he ever saw her.

Hermione so far had made little progress in her research of Rowena Ravenclaw, but she had managed to learn more about magical transportation since their arrival. The evening of the Delacours’ arrival, Hermione appeared in Ron’s bedroom, where he and Harry were playing a game of chess, and she closed the door and locked it, before pointing her wand and whispering â€�“Muffliato.”

â€�“Find something?” asked Harry.

â€�“I asked Fred and George what they know about Portkeys,” Hermione told them. â€�“Apparently they’re very much our only way out of the Burrow without the Order seeing us leave.”

â€�“But wouldn’t the Ministry detect us using one?” asked Ron.

Hermione took a seat on Ron’s bed. â€�“The twins said that Portkeys operate on arcane wavelengths not unlike those of a radio channel. If you know how to ‘tune’ the Portkey to an unrecorded wavelength, the Ministry can’t detect it.”

Ron stared at her. â€�“That makes the Portkey laws and regulations complete rubbish!”

Harry snorted. â€�“Yeah, and when has the Ministry ever been reliable?” Ron was unable to argue with that point.

â€�“The problem is,” Hermione continued, â€�“that the Death Eaters have known about this for years. Barty Crouch Jr., for instance, was able to Portkey Harry out of Hogwarts without the Ministry detecting it. The Order, however, finally discovered it in the past couple of years. ‘Course, Portkeys are useless for entering areas that are Unplottable or protected by the Fidelius, unless the creator has actually been to those places.”

â€�“So did Fred and George say anything about these undetectable wavelengths?” Harry asked.

â€�“The Order doesn’t like to browse through them,” Hermione said, â€�“in case they accidentally use one that the Death Eaters also use. The twins told me that they’ve found a couple that the Death Eaters don’t seem to use, but unfortunately, the Order knows about them.”

â€�“In short, if we used the safe ones, the Order can track us, and if we find an untested one, we might find the Death Eaters on our heels,” groaned Harry.

â€�“Can you open a new one, like getting your own channel?” asked Ron.

â€�“I understand that Fred and George are trying to do so,” Hermione told them, â€�“but they haven’t quite figured it out yet.”

â€�“Did they suspect anything when you asked?”

Hermione laughed. â€�“Of course they did, but you know them. They know you too well to think that you’ll accept the Order’s security measures, and if you’re determined enough to go off and fight, they’ll help you find a way to do it.”

Harry smiled. â€�“Where would we be without them?”

â€�“Without a Marauder’s Map and a joke shop,” Ron sniggered.

********

Mrs. Weasley had planned to take the Delacours on a tour of the neighborhood the day after their arrival, which would end in a picnic near the Burrow, but that plan was cut short when M. Delacour, who had a weak stomach, took ill during the night. Knowing that Harry needed an escort to Gringotts that morning, Bill was thus free to take him there, and so at 10:30 the pair of them got ready to leave with the promise of returning by 12:30 if the appointment didn’t take too long. Mrs. Weasley was still worried about Harry’s security, but along with him being accompanied by a skilled Order member, it also happened to be raining; consequently Harry wore a sweater with his hood up, which made him less noticeable.

Diagon Alley wasn’t as crowded as it usually was during summer, and Harry suspected that it was because of Hogwarts closing; nobody would have received a book or supply list. There were a few Aurors and other officials stationed around the alley, Harry noticed, but little activity except for a few women at Madam Malkin’s and a group of teenagers outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. This made it easier for Harry and Bill to get to the bank inconspicuously, and they therefore arrived ten minutes early. Harry pulled his hood down as they approached the goblins stationed at the door, and seeing him there, one of them bowed slightly and allowed him entry.

As they approached the front desk, Harry recognized the elderly goblin who always worked there, bent down over his book of numbers. He looked up just as Bill stepped before the desk.

â€�“Good morning, Ragnok,” he greeted cordially.

â€�“Mr. Weasley,” the goblin returned the greeting, before turning his attention to Harry.

â€�“I have an appointment with a Mr. Rok Grimrook,” Harry told him unnecessarily.

Ragnok nodded slowly. â€�“We have been expecting you, Mr. Potter. Just so that you’re aware, you will be required to present your wand to Mr. Grimrook for security measures. Mr. Weasley, you know the way to Grimrook’s office.”

Bill nodded. â€�“If you’ll come with me, Harry.”

Harry followed Bill into an antechamber to the right of the desk, where immediately to their left, Bill led him into a lift.

â€�“Third floor,” he said as Harry stepped in and closed the door.

â€�“Do you know this accountant?” Harry asked as the lift ascended.

â€�“I’ve met him,” Bill answered. â€�“I don’t think he really wants to be working at Gringotts, personally, but he’s a competent accountant, and he’s fairly well-known and respected in the Tylwthteg goblin nation.”

The lift stopped, and Bill led Harry out into a hall with red walls, from which hung portraits of various prominent goblins. Near the end of the hall, they arrived at an oak door with a polished brass nameplate, which read â€�“B. Grobschmied and R. Grimrook.”

Bill knocked, and after a moment, a goblin answered, who Harry recognized as Griphook.

â€�“Mr. Potter.” Griphook bowed him inside. â€�“Mr. Grimrook will see you now. Mr. Weasley, if you could wait outside, please.”

The office was a large, round room with a crackling fire lit in a fireplace to Harry’s left, and the walls were lined with bookshelves. To the right of the door stood a small desk, at which Griphook seated himself. In the center of the room, however, was a much larger desk, behind which the accountant sat.

Rok Grimrook was fairly tall for a goblin, close to Harry’s height, but he appeared to be much younger than the other goblins one usually saw working at Gringotts. He wore a black wool frock coat, and his face wasn’t as hard or strict as other goblins. He stood as Harry entered, and beckoned to him to have a seat in the front of the desk.

Harry did so, and Grimrook held out his hand, which Harry shook.

â€�“You must be Mr. Potter,” Grimrook greeted politely. â€�“I worked with your father when I first was hired here. You look a lot like him.”

The goblin sat down again, and Harry did the same.

â€�“Now, before we begin, Mr. Potter, we must verify your identity,” Grimrook told him. â€�“I’m not sure if they informed you of this or not. It’s a new procedure, because we’ve had a couple of cases of identity theft using Polyjuice Potion in the past year.”

Harry nodded, and Grimrook held his hand out. â€�“Your wand, if you please.”

Harry hesitated, but he drew his wand out and handed it over to the goblin, who looked at it very carefully. He ran his fingers down the wood, scrutinizing every detail of it, before dropping it on a set of scales that Harry recognized from the Ministry of Magic. After a moment, Grimrook pulled a strip of paper from a slit in the base, and analyzed it.

â€�“Eleven inches, holly, phoenix feather,” he read. â€�“And this wand was registered six years ago.”

Harry nodded, and Grimrook handed the wand back. As he did, Harry saw Griphook slide off his chair and run to the desk, a folder in his hands. Grimrook took the folder and opened it. At the front lay a blue-tinted sheet of parchment, which he looked over for a moment, before turning to Harry.

â€�“We need you here today to transfer authorized access to your full inheritance to you,” Grimrook informed him. â€�“Your full account was under Sirius Black’s and Albus Dumbledore’s custodianship. After Professor Dumbledore died, Ragnok placed the account under my custodianship until your coming of age.”

â€�“How much is in it?” asked Harry.

â€�“You have a trust of six hundred Galleons and six Sickles remaining from the original eight hundred which your father laid aside for your education,” Grimrook read from the document. â€�“You already knew about this, I have no doubt.”

Harry nodded.

â€�“In addition to your school trust fund,” Grimrook continued, â€�“you have since received a fortune of two hundred thousand Galleons annually from the Black inheritance…”

â€�“How much?” Harry interrupted, gaping at the goblin, who didn’t react to his disbelief.

â€�“… on top of the one hundred thousand you receive from your own family’s inheritance,” Grimrook said, as though there had been no interruption. â€�“You will also find that Sirius Black’s primary benefactor, Alphard Black, had shares in Flourish and Blott’s and Gladrags. He also had investments in the following Muggle corporations: General Electric, Bloomsbury, and Disney, all of which rebuilt his own fortune after his father Pollux Black disowned him. These assets have subsequently passed through Sirius Black to you. We have access to the Muggle bank accounts, but we can terminate our own access to these if you wish.”

â€�“What do I do with it all?” Harry stammered.

â€�“It is yours.” Grimrook passed Harry the papers. â€�“You may do with it what you wish. I, however, would recommend that you hold onto these assets for the time being. You see, should you lose access to your assets in the Wizarding World, these Muggle investments may prove to be extremely useful.”

Harry stared at Grimrook. â€�“Is that likely?”

Grimrook didn’t reply, but Harry noticed that he raised his eyebrows and was looking at him intently, as though there was something he wasn’t at liberty to communicate. He then began discussing the benefits and possible disadvantages of each of Alphard Black’s shares, gave Harry various suggestions on what he ought to do, should any of the businesses go under, and then produced a sheet of paper from a desk drawer, which he handed to Harry.

â€�“This form bequeaths all authorization and access to these assets to you,” Grimrook told him. â€�“All we require from you is a signature.”

He then passed Harry a quill, and Harry quickly read the document, then signed it. As he passed it back to Grimrook, he asked, â€�“Is that all, then?”

â€�“Not quite.”

Grimrook turned to look at Griphook pointedly, and the latter stepped away from his desk and quitted the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, Grimrook opened another desk drawer and pulled a wooden box from within.

â€�“About a week before his death, Albus Dumbledore left this here to be given to you before you come of age,” Grimrook told him. â€�“He did not specify what it contains, but he says that you will find it useful. Only you can open it.”

His hands shaking, Harry took the box. A note was attached to it, written in Dumbledore’s elegant writing: â€�“Use it well.”

********

After shaking Harry’s hand and showing him out of his office, Rok Grimrook returned to his desk and opened another drawer, from which he pulled two goblets, which he placed on the desktop. He then unstoppered his decanter and poured some mead into both goblets. He had just sat down again when a door on the wall opposite the fireplace opened, and an older goblin stepped into the room.

â€�“It is done?” Benedict Grobschmied inquired, watching Grimrook closely.

Grimrook glanced at the door, and nodded. â€�“It is done.”

He then picked up one of the goblets and offered it to Grobschmied, who accepted it but didn’t drink from it.

â€�“Mr. Potter noticed nothing?” he asked as he sat in the chair the young wizard had just vacated.

Grimrook sipped some of his mead, grimaced, and lowered the goblet. He took a small teaspoon from next to the decanter and stirred the mead a bit. â€�“No,” he answered after a moment. â€�“I don’t think he suspected a thing.”

Grobschmied sipped his mead. â€�“I admire your skill, Rok. Now all that’s left for us to do is wait.”

********

Chapter Three
The Last Farewell

Harry had waited the rest of the day for a moment when he, Ron, and Hermione could open Dumbledore’s box without the risk of an interruption from Mrs. Weasley, but because Bill’s wedding was in only two days, activity in the Burrow took a whole new level. Hermione was occupied with helping Fleur, Gabrielle, Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny decorate the house, while Harry and Ron found themselves outside with the twins, Bill and Charlie, and Mr. Weasley setting up a large tent and a temporary rostrum where the wedding would take place. Even with the use of magic, this took most of the afternoon, until finally Harry managed to tell Ron to meet him upstairs after dinner, and hoped that either he or Ron would be able to get the message to Hermione.

Dinner seemed to take longer than usual, though Harry supposed that this could have been due to his impatience, along with the fact that it took M. and Mme. Delacour some time to come down to dinner (the latter still felt slightly ill, but was well enough to attend the meal). Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Harry found himself seated on his bed with the box in his lap, staring at the short note Dumbledore had attached to it, and waiting for Hermione to turn up. Ron was already there, seated next to Harry and watching him in curiosity. After a few minutes, the door opened and Hermione entered.

â€�“Muffliato,” she muttered as she closed the door.

â€�“So, what happened at Gringotts?” asked Ron as soon as Hermione took a seat on the chair by the desk.

Harry lifted the box. â€�“The goblins gave me this. Dumbledore’s apparently left me something.”

Hermione stared at it excitedly. â€�“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s see what’s inside!”

Harry hesitated, his hand shaking a little, but he quickly undid the latch and opened up the wooden box; it wasn’t much larger than a shoe box, and seemed to only contain several leather-bound journals. A letter lay on top of the journals, which Harry picked up; it was addressed to all three of them. Breaking the seal, Harry unfolded the letter and read out loud,

To Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger:

If you are reading this letter, then it is likely that you are planning to go on your own soon to seek out the Horcruxes. It is also probable that you have told no one that you plan on leaving. This is very wise of you, because without a doubt, the Order, as faithful to me and to the cause as they are, will make it difficult for you to get started. However, the members of the Order have their own part to play, and they must not go off track for you. For that reason, it is your responsibility to depart as discreetly and suddenly as possible. Miss Granger, inside one of my journals, you will find instructions on differing methods of escape and transportation without the detection of the Order, or of the Ministry, which also must never find you. If I am right, though the Ministry is still firmly under Scrimgeour’s control, my resources tell me that the Death Eaters have some influence in a few of the lesser positions and will slowly move upward. It is only a matter of time before the Ministry is completely under their thumb. Thus you must also never allow the smallest hint of your task to reach the Ministry.

I have left you the journals I kept while I was still investigating Voldemort’s background and possible locations for the Horcruxes. I hope that you will find them instructive, particularly on how you might destroy the Horcruxes. For further study, I also leave you the remnants of the ring and the diary.

As soon as you have left, Harry, and have found a place to hide, I have one last gift to give you. Call for Fawkes, and he will bring you my Pensieve and all the memories I have collected. I have left you further instructions, along with the note to Miss Granger, on how to use it.

I enclose a letter for Kingsley Shacklebolt, which you must have Fawkes deliver once you have received the Pensieve.

Lastly, Harry, I know that you can do this. Bear this responsibility with patience, and keep your friends close. Also, you may find others who are willing to assist you. Do not forgo opportunities for allies. You are not alone in this.

Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore

Harry stared at the letter for a minute, before his eyes flicked to the date at the top, which told him that it was written only about a week before Dumbledore’s death.

â€�“Blimey,” Ron breathed, as soon as Harry mentioned this. â€�“It’s like he knew he was going to die.”

Hermione nodded. â€�“That is a bit strange. Do you think he knew that Snape was planning to kill him?”

Nobody answered. Harry didn’t have one to give, and unwilling to dwell on that bothersome question, he pulled the journals from the box, and as he opened the first one, he found an envelope addressed to Hermione.

â€�“That’s for you,” he told her, handing her the envelope, which Hermione hurriedly opened. Harry closed the journal and set it on the bed, and looked into the box. All that remained were Riddle’s diary and Marvolo’s ring. Harry picked up the diary and examined the hole he’d burned through it. He then opened it and turned its ink-stained pages, and as he did so, his thoughts strayed to Ginny and that conversation he’d had with her the evening after Mad-Eye renewed the Fidelius Charm on Grimmauld Place.

This is my fight as much as it is yours. Suddenly Harry realized the truth of Ginny’s words, as he thought of her tears as she described her nightmares to him; Voldemort had harmed her in ways that few could understand. Harry knew that Ginny tried to hide the damage, and she had become so adept at it that he’d truly had no idea of the degree of the pain she’d felt, until she confided in him. He remembered then how on more than one occasion, he’d come down from his dormitory at Hogwarts to find Ginny in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room, never saying a word, simply staring into the flames. She’d never talk about her worries, though, not even when they started going out, and it wasn’t until she opened up to him recently that he’d known about her nightmares, and that to this day, she felt violated and dirty.

Ginny Weasley had a score to settle with Voldemort. She and Harry both did.

Harry closed the diary and looked at the hole again, and a sudden fury washed over him as he thought of Riddle’s cold, malicious laughter and Ginny’s tears. At the time that Harry destroyed the diary, he’d only thought of saving Ginny. Now, for the first time that Harry could remember, he genuinely wanted to kill.

â€�“Harry, are you all right?”

Ron’s voice broke through Harry’s thoughts, and he looked up to see the others watching him in concern, which bordered on alarm. He nodded.

â€�“I don’t know what’s going to happen to me,” he told them resolutely, â€�“but I swear that I’ll do my damn utmost to rid the world of that bastard.”

********

As Harry sat down to breakfast the next morning, Mr. Weasley, who was already at the table, looked up from the morning newspaper.

â€�“I didn’t get the opportunity to inform you yesterday,” he told him, â€�“but as per your request, I managed to arrange a time for you to take your Apparition exam?”

â€�“When is it?” Harry asked, putting his toast down.

â€�“You are to be present at the Ministry on the morning of your birthday,” Mr. Weasley told him, â€�“at 10:00, to be precise.”

â€�“Good. I was wondering about that.”

â€�“I should warn you,” Mr. Weasley added, â€�“that Scrimgeour may attempt to corner you while you’re there.”

Harry groaned.

â€�“I couldn’t agree more,” Mr. Weasley said, smiling slightly.

â€�“He doesn’t give up, does he?” Harry muttered mutinously. â€�“How many times must I tell him ‘no?’”

Mr. Weasley smirked. â€�“If it makes you feel better, he’s released Stan Shunpike.”

â€�“About time,” Harry said, taking another bite of his toast. He swallowed, and after a moment, he asked, â€�“What made him finally do it?”

â€�“Tonks managed to bring Scrimgeour pressing evidence in Shunpike’s favor. He didn’t have much choice.”

â€�“I should think not,” Mrs. Weasley said as she entered the kitchen. â€�“Did I hear right that you’ll have your Apparition exam on your birthday?”

Harry nodded, suddenly feeling very wary; he half-expected Mrs. Weasley to start refusing to allow him to go to the Ministry, but to his relief, she did nothing of the sort.

â€�“You’ll do fine,” Mrs. Weasley told him. â€�“Actually, I’m glad you’re going. It gives Ron the opportunity to retake his test.”

â€�“Did you sign Ron up as well?” Harry asked Mr. Weasley, who nodded. Then grinning, he added, â€�“Does Ron know?”

â€�“Do I know what?” Ron entered the kitchen now, still clad in his pajamas and looking sleepy.

â€�“That you’re retaking your Apparition exam on the thirty-first.”

Ron stared at Harry in horror. â€�“Since when?”

â€�“Since yesterday,” Mr. Weasley told him. â€�“You and Harry are taking them together.”

â€�“What a birthday present,” Ron muttered to Harry, who shrugged.

Then unable to stop himself, Harry leaned back in his chair and said, â€�“Just remember, Ron: Destination, Determination, Deliber--”

â€�“Shut up,” Ron snapped as Harry sniggered.

The entire Weasley family was set to the task that day of going over the house again to clear up any messes, fix decorations, or anything else that Mrs. Weasley or Fleur felt needed perfecting. M. and Mme. Delacour helped out with whatever they could, and when owls started flying in with wedding presents, Mrs. Weasley set Ginny and Gabrielle to the task of piling them up in the back room until the wedding.

However, Harry and Ron noticed Hermione disappear up the stairs every time she had an excuse to, coming down only when Fleur or Mrs. Weasley asked her to do something. Harry wasn’t sure what Hermione was up to, but he supposed it had to do with whatever instructions Dumbledore had left her.

********

At four o’ clock the following afternoon, Harry found himself seated next to Hermione in one of the front rows in the marquee they had set up the other day, as guests filed in, ushered to their seats by Ron, Fred, and George. Since they had set up the tent, a couple of hundred chairs had been set up inside, with an aisle down the middle where M. Delacour soon would lead Fleur. The seats were mostly occupied with dozens of guests, including a couple dozen members of the Order. The entire Weasley family was there in the same row as Harry, except for Percy Weasley, who (to the complete dismay of Mrs. Weasley) failed to turn up. In the middle of one row sat Hagrid, who waved at Harry when he arrived.

After a while, Harry turned his attention away from the guests. Leaning over to Hermione, he whispered, â€�“So how’s Dumbledore’s instructions paying off?”

Hermione smirked. â€�“Tomorrow I’ll hopefully be able to test his theory.”

â€�“What are you making upstairs, anyway?”

â€�“Our best way out of here is by Portkey,” Hermione said, â€�“and it’s like Ron asked the other day, could we open another wavelength which nobody else has access to? Turns out that Dumbledore has already done just that. He included a list of differing magical conduits that he opened, which the Order has no access to.”

â€�“So you’re making Portkeys that operate on that wavelength?” Harry asked.

â€�“Sort of.” Hermione glanced at the entrance of the tent, and checked her watch. â€�“I’m not sure why Dumbledore thought this would be useful, but he thinks I ought to know how to partially enchant an object to be a Portkey.”

Harry frowned. â€�“What do you mean by ‘partially?’”

â€�“So that you only touch one part of the object to be transported,” Hermione told him. â€�“Either way, I’ve practiced making a few, which I’ll be testing tomorrow.”

â€�“Hope you did it correctly,” Harry muttered. â€�“We leave on the night of my birthday, Hermione. No sooner, no later.”

She nodded. â€�“I still have a few days.”

At that moment, Ron finally sat down on Harry’s other side, looking grumpy. â€�“I’m glad that’s over with,” he said. â€�“Dad’s told us to sit down, because Fleur’s about ready.”

â€�“About time,” Harry said.

â€�“Fred and George are being gits, as usual,” Ron muttered. â€�“They kept going for Fleur’s veela cousins, and leaving me to handle Auntie Muriel.”

As he spoke, the people inside the tent quieted as Bill and Charlie suddenly made their way to the rostrum, followed by a wrinkled warlock who stood before them on the rostrum. Bill turned and waited patiently at the entrance. A moment later, Fred and George appeared, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and they too took their seats on the front row.

As he sat down at the edge of the row, Mr. Weasley turned around and nodded at the tent entrance, and at that moment, the crowd fell into silence again. Harry too turned in his seat to see M. Delacour leading Fleur down the aisle. Harry could see wizards’ jaws dropping at the sight of Fleur, who looked even more radiant than usual, in a simple silvery-white dress, almost the same color as a Patronus; but Harry’s eyes settled on Ginny, who walked behind Fleur with Gabrielle in a beautiful gold dress.

When Fleur reached the rostrum, Bill looked positively awed at his bride’s beauty, and even the warlock who awaited them looked dazzled. Finally he seemed to recollect himself, and began: â€�“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to join together these two souls in matrimony…”

A few minutes into the ceremony, Harry noticed Mrs. Weasley and Mme. Delacour both had tears streaming down their faces, while Hermione, without a handkerchief, had started sobbing into Harry’s right shoulder; he could feel his dress robes dampening.

Harry glanced at Ginny again, and his heart sank as an unbidden image of himself on that rostrum with Ginny at his side appeared at the front of his imagination, and a lump lodged itself in his throat. He would have given anything to have a happy, normal future, but because of one prophecy, because of a stupid scar on his forehead, that future was not for him. Ron could speak of optimism, as he had at the Dursleys’, all he wanted; but somehow Harry felt absolutely certain that he could never have that future.

â€�“… I hereby declare William Arthur Weasley and Fleur Elisabeth Delacour to be man and wife.”

The audience erupted into applause as Fleur and Bill stepped off the rostrum, and a moment later Harry saw the guests all stand up. He did so too, dragging a still-sobbing Hermione with him.

As soon as Bill and Fleur exited the tent, the audience started to file out into the front lawn, where the Weasleys and some Delacour relatives had set up dozens of round tables and chairs where the guests started seating themselves, and in the center of the lawn, they had left a gap where M. Delacour had conjured a large, golden dance floor. Silver plates with tarts and small sandwiches and a couple of cheap aluminum rings had been placed by every plate for decoration, and at one end of the lawn Harry could see a long table where some waiters the Delacours had hired stood behind more refreshments.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were among the last in the crowd to reach the lawn, but they managed to find a reasonably empty table, where Ginny sat with Luna Lovegood.

â€�“There you three are!” Luna beamed at them. Harry noticed that she had placed some of the rings on her Butterbeer cork necklace. â€�“I’ve been saving you all seats.”

Harry took a seat next to Ginny, while Ron and Hermione sat down on Luna’s other side; Ron immediately dug into his sandwich, which caused Hermione to shoot him a look of disgust.

â€�“Harry,” Luna said, â€�“did you know that your shoulder is wet? Must be the Gernubbles. That’s what I wear this for.”

She pointed at her cork necklace. Harry could see Ron struggling not to snigger.

â€�“Why is your shoulder wet?” Ginny asked him as soon as Luna turned to say something to Hermione.

Harry shot a look in Hermione’s direction. â€�“George had the courtesy to seat me next to a human geyser.”

Ginny giggled. â€�“I think Ron would have appreciated it more.”

The brother in question had already finished his sandwich and his tart. Hermione, meanwhile, was examining the rings that had been placed on the table intently, for some indiscernible reason. Then Harry noticed her pocket them, and also take the two rings off of Ron’s plate as well.

The dancing started a few minutes later, and Harry could see Fleur in the middle with Bill, waltzing slowly. He turned to look at Ginny, wondering if he ought to stand up with her or not, but she wasn’t looking at the dance.

â€�“Look who’s turned up,” she told him, pointing.

Harry turned around and saw Percy hovering at the entrance of the now vacant tent, squinting into the crowd and clearly looking as though he was uncertain of whether he should be there. Mrs. Weasley had run up to meet him.

â€�“Bloody hell,” Ron said, gaping. â€�“What’s he doing here?”

â€�“I assume he’s here to congratulate Bill,” Hermione said, but she also was frowning. â€�“He is, after all, your brother, even if he’s not on speaking terms with the family.”

Even as they watched, they caught sight of Fred and George staring at Percy suspiciously, and Mr. Weasley hadn’t appeared to acknowledge him at all. Charlie, however, cut his way to the center of the dance floor and tapped Bill on his shoulder, pointing. Bill scrutinized Percy for a moment, before allowing Charlie to continue dancing with Fleur while he too went to greet Percy.

The next few minutes were very tense for those who knew of Percy’s estrangement, but as Harry watched Bill speak with Percy, he realized that Percy’s expression was downcast. Then after a moment, Bill suddenly pulled his younger brother into a hug. Next to them, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley burst into tears.

Beside Harry, Ginny suddenly stood and left the table, and Harry watched her leave, expecting her to join her mother and Bill in the reconciliation with Percy, but to his surprise, she didn’t approach them; instead, she moved away from the crowd, heading toward a clump of trees silhouetted in the sunset. Frowning, Harry too got up and followed Ginny.

It wasn’t until he was only feet away from the trees that Harry could see Ginny seated on a root, watching the sunset, her face hardened.

â€�“Hello, Harry,” she murmured as he sat down too.

â€�“You all right?” he asked.

She nodded. â€�“I’m always all right.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond to this, but he awkwardly muttered, â€�“I hope that Percy and your father will forgive each other.”

â€�“I hope so too.” Ginny glanced at the wedding. Harry too looked in that direction, but he couldn’t make anyone out from this distance. Next to him, Ginny continued, â€�“He looked rather upset, but even if he’s admitted to being wrong, I’ll still have trouble forgiving him.”

Harry said nothing. In truth, he had no idea what to say to Ginny. He too still felt angry with Percy, but his indignation, he knew, was nothing compared to the insult Percy had leveled at his entire family.

Ginny turned back toward the sunset, and seeing her discomfort, Harry took her hand. They sat like that for another moment, before Ginny stood, pulling Harry up with her.

â€�“Do you want to go for a walk?” she asked.

Harry stared at her for a moment, thinking of the resolution he’d made at Dumbledore’s funeral; but since the night when Ginny told him of her nightmares, and since he’d handled Riddle’s ruined diary a second time, he felt his resolution crumbling. Smiling slightly, he nodded, and Ginny led him away from the trees. They walked for some time around the outskirts of the Burrow, until the wedding celebrations disappeared from sight. Then as they came around into another grove of trees near the apple orchard, Ginny stopped.

â€�“I sometimes come in here to think,” she told him. â€�“It’s usually fairly quiet here.”

Harry nodded.

Ginny sat down on a fallen tree, and looked up at Harry. â€�“You’ll be gone soon.”

Harry didn’t reply, but Ginny didn’t seem to require a response. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing her calm expression to waver for a moment, and Harry sat down next to her. Then Ginny opened her eyes and looked directly into his.

â€�“Ten minutes,” she said, and seeing his confusion, she clarified, â€�“That’s probably how long we’ve got here before someone comes looking for us.”

These words were spoken casually, but the look that crossed Ginny’s face as she spoke made Harry’s stomach do a back flip, because he’d only seen that expression on her face twice before, once in the Gryffindor Common Room when they’d first kissed, and at Dumbledore’s funeral. Not for the first time, Harry felt a surge of amazement at how beautiful she was, but today, at this moment, as her gold dress glinted in the orange sunlight, and she stared at him with that blazing, challenging look, his resolve crumbled completely, and he reached forward and traced her cheek affectionately.

â€�“Just ten minutes,” she whispered. â€�“It may yet be ten months or ten years. But please, take these ten minutes with you.”

Then Harry pulled Ginny into his embrace, one hand on the small of her back, and the other in her flaming red hair, and his lips passionately met hers. He allowed himself to forget all else, just for this moment, here with Ginny, allowing himself to appreciate every second of her affection, because they both knew that it could very well be the last moment alone with her he’d ever have, the first and last farewell.

After a moment, he broke the kiss, breathless, but he did not let go of her. Disentangling his hand from her hair, Harry then caressed her neck and shoulders. He was delighted to feel her shiver slightly, and then he kissed her again. For ten minutes, without interruption, they kissed each other, laughed together, spoke of happier days, and finally Ginny checked her watch, and told him that they’d better head back.

He nodded and stood up, and Ginny followed suit, before he took her hand in his. â€�“Thank you,” he breathed.

Ginny smiled sadly, and Harry thought he saw her eyes watering.

The sun sank below the horizon.

********

Between Bill’s wedding and Harry’s birthday, the days at the Burrow grew quieter, but hardly enjoyable; Mrs. Weasley finally admitted that Hogwarts would be closing, and while Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny already knew that, it still was dispiriting to hear. Also, all four of them waited in stoic anticipation of the moment of Harry’s departure, which they still kept concealed from everyone else.

Bill and Fleur, of course, went off on their honeymoon, while Fleur’s family returned to France, leaving a much emptier Burrow. The day after the wedding was somewhat busy as Mrs. Weasley gave the four teenagers the task of taking down the decorations, but doing so was much easier and quicker than putting them up. Charlie had gone back to Romania, but occasionally Percy turned up to help with the cleanup.

Hermione spent several evenings shut up in her room, and Harry supposed that she was still working on her â€�“partial Portkeys.” As Harry’s birthday drew closer, he and Ron began to worry about her progress, but she never asked for their help, preferring to work on the project herself. When Harry saw the complicated spell work listed on Dumbledore’s instructions, he refrained from offering his help simply because Hermione probably was the only one who could do it. But she told them nothing, and Harry and Ron simply waited.

Finally, on the day before Harry’s birthday, Hermione appeared in Harry’s room, where he and Ron were playing Exploding Snap, and told them to come outside. She led them out into the back garden and then around the perimeter of the Weasleys’ lawn, until they neared the grove of trees where Harry and Ginny had gone during the wedding. Hermione stopped, and held out her hand, showing them three of the cheap rings that had been included in the wedding decorations.

â€�“Er, what’s this?” Ron asked, bewildered.

â€�“The finished Portkey rings,” Hermione explained. â€�“They’re only partially enchanted, so they won’t transport you away simply for holding or touching them.”

â€�“How do they work, then?” asked Harry, surprised.

Hermione snorted. â€�“Isn’t it obvious? You simply put it on, and it transports you. They’re on Dumbledore’s recommended wavelengths, so the Order won’t detect this test, nor will the Ministry.”

â€�“Test?” Ron repeated. â€�“Where are these going to take us?”

â€�“To your room,” Hermione told him. â€�“I’ve already made small tests on these, you know, transporting myself across the room, another fifteen feet, and so on. And now I think we’re ready to try out a full test.”

She handed one Portkey to Harry and to Ron, and then she slipped one of the rings onto her middle finger. There was a flash of blue light, and Hermione vanished. Harry and Ron looked at each other for a moment, and then Harry hesitantly put one of the rings on. Like with a normal Portkey, he felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel, and his feet left the ground in a howl of wind and whirling colors; and then his feet slammed onto a hard wood floor, and he staggered into a room full of orange Chudley Cannon posters. A second later, there was another flash of blue.

â€�“OUCH! That was my shoulder!”

â€�“Sorry, mate!”

Harry grunted and shoved Ron off him, before staggering to his feet to see Hermione beaming at them.

â€�“Glad to know they work,” Harry told her, rubbing his shoulder as Ron slumped against the bed, clutching his head.

â€�“This means that we could leave any time after you turn seventeen tomorrow,” Hermione said unnecessarily. â€�“Nobody else knows about these wavelengths, so we should be able to keep away from the Order and the Death Eaters for some time.”

â€�“So where are we going first?” asked Ron.

â€�“I’ve been thinking about that too, and I think I’ve thought of someplace safe, where the Order won’t think to look.” She smiled. â€�“Well, perhaps Lupin might think of it eventually, but even if the Order manages to catch up to us, we could just shake them off with these things easily enough.”

â€�“I guess we’d better get ready to leave then,” Harry said. â€�“I’ll start packing tonight, since I doubt I’ll get an opportunity tomorrow.”

â€�“If you like, I could put an Internal Extension Charm on your rucksack,” Hermione offered.

â€�“A what?”

â€�“It’ll make your rucksack bigger on the inside,” Hermione told him. â€�“Also, you won’t feel anything in there. It shouldn’t be too heavy. I’ve already done it to my rucksack.”

â€�“Undoubtedly,” Ron drily commented. â€�“You need something with which you could carry your library.”

So ten minutes later found Harry in his room, hurriedly and quietly stuffing clothes into his newly â€�“internally extended” rucksack. His cauldron, full of some of the school textbooks and other books he thought necessary, along with the box Dumbledore left, was the next thing he stuffed into the rucksack; the photo album of his family; his potion-making kit and some ingredients, also kept in a wooden box; he also carefully fitted his Firebolt and his Broomstick Servicing Kit inside as well, along with a shoe box in which he’d stored a stack of old letters, including Dumbledore’s and Ginny’s, R.A.B.’s locket, his own notebooks, along with a bunch of ball-point pens he had taken from the Dursleys’ house: Hermione had felt it more convenient to use these rather than carry quills and ink bottles.

Once Harry zipped up his rucksack and set it next to his desk, he glanced at the door and thought of the family he’d be leaving. He felt a guilty twinge as he thought of what their disappearance might do to Mrs. Weasley, if they left without a word. Harry sat at the writing table and then he opened up the desk drawer to find a few quills and a stack of paper. Smiling humorlessly, Harry pulled out a sheet of paper, taking one of the quills and ink bottles, he began to write.

He did so until very late into the night, occasionally scratching out a sentence, or else crumpling up a sheet of paper and flinging it into a corner. Then, one ink bottle and three quills later, at about two in the morning, Harry finally folded up two letters and placed them inside the desk drawer. Perched next to him, Hedwig, who had watched him write, and who was waiting for him to tie them to her leg, hooted in annoyance.

â€�“Sorry Hedwig,” he said, leaning back in his chair. â€�“I’m not sending these, just leaving them behind. They’re all I’m leaving behind.”

Hedwig hooted again, and Harry stroked her back feathers absent-mindedly, staring out his window at the now dark sky, deep in thought. Only one more day of comfort, one more day in safety and peace. By this time tomorrow he, Ron, and Hermione would be hiding at whatever safe place Hermione would take them to; by this time next year, God knew where he’d be or how many Horcruxes he would have found and destroyed, let alone if he still lived.

********

â€�“Why are you so interested in having Harry Potter involved in this?”

â€�“Because he is Voldemort’s greatest perceived enemy, and if he were given a base where the Death Eaters, the Order, and the Ministry could never find him, and if he were given some extra training and preparation, this young man could become Voldemort’s deadliest enemy. Imagine if the Death Eaters became afraid to breathe Harry Potter’s name. Imagine if we struck that kind of terror into the hearts of Voldemort’s followers. Imagine the advantage that would give to all who want Voldemort brought down. It lends a new element to this war, and this time I’m sure it would be to our advantage.”

â€�“My dear Benedict, that idea is all very well, but it is also the most unlikely shot in the dark I have ever heard. You’re cleverer than that. Why do you really want Mr. Potter involved?”

********

Chapter Four
The Die is Cast

The door was suddenly thrown open with a loud bang, and Harry, still at the desk with his head resting in his arms, jumped and sat up, groping around for his wand.

â€�“Happy birthday!” Ron shouted, clapping Harry on the shoulder. Hedwig, still perched next to Harry, hooted at Ron indignantly.

Harry blinked, and looked around, rubbing his shoulder. â€�“That was the shoulder you landed on yesterday!” he told Ron, annoyed.

Ron looked slightly sheepish. â€�“Well, I have to be excited for now, since going to take us to the Ministry for our Apparition exams in about an hour.”

Harry shrugged. â€�“Both of us need to do it before we leave, and that’s tonight, Ron.”

Ron pressed his fingers to his lips, and glanced at the door. â€�“Mum’s up, Harry, and we don’t want her hearing that, whatever we do tonight.”

Harry felt his face grow slightly warm as he realized his slip. â€�“Blimey, I’m going to have to do better. Speaking of which…”

He pointed his wand at the pile of crumpled letter drafts, which vanished instantly.

â€�“What were those?” asked Ron curiously. When Harry didn’t answer, he told him, â€�“Good first use of overage magic, mate.”

Harry smirked, and flicked his wand. Ron yelled as he suddenly found himself hanging upside-down.

â€�“OI!”

Harry laughed, and flicked his wand again. Ron landed on Harry’s bed, and he sat up, massaging the back of his neck.

â€�“I owe you one for that,” he said, but he was grinning.

â€�“No, because it’s just payback for you hitting my sore shoulder,” Harry riposted.

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley stuck her head inside his room. â€�“What’s going on in here?”

â€�“Harry’s making the most of being of age.”

Mrs. Weasley raised her eyebrows at her son, but she turned to Harry with a wide smile. â€�“Happy birthday, Harry. I’ve been preparing you some breakfast…”

â€�“You didn’t have to.”

â€�“… which will be ready in five minutes,” she continued, as though there had been no interruption. â€�“Come on down when you’re ready.”

Harry nodded, and arched his back, which ached from his less-than-comfortable position during the night. As Mrs. Weasley left the room, Harry turned back to Ron, and asked quietly, â€�“Are you finished packing?”

â€�“Hermione did the internal extension thing to my rucksack,” Ron said, â€�“but I haven’t finished yet.”

â€�“You’d better do it quick, then, before somebody guesses that something’s up,” Harry told him.

Ron nodded. â€�“I’ll try to finish it now.”

With that, he got up and left the room; Harry stood up, stretching his back a bit more, before making his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Ginny and Mr. Weasley were already seated at the table.

â€�“Happy seventeenth,” Ginny told him. â€�“Enjoy it while you can, since you’re about to have your last examination for a while.”

Harry grunted.

â€�“Do you feel ready?” asked Mr. Weasley. â€�“We can always delay it, if you wish.”

Harry shook his head. â€�“No, I’m ready. I’m just not looking forward to whatever Scrimgeour might do.”

Ginny patted his arm sympathetically. â€�“Maybe you should try making Scrimgeour even more annoyed with you than you are with him. It might get him off your back.”

â€�“We don’t want any more trouble from the Minister,” Mr. Weasley said. â€�“Given Harry’s history with the Ministry of Magic, the last thing we need is them turning on him again.”

â€�“They’re not on my side,” Harry muttered. â€�“They never have been. Frankly, I don’t care what Scrimgeour thinks of me.”

Harry’s eyes met Ginny’s, and he refrained from adding, â€�“Not that it matters.” It wouldn’t do for Mr. Weasley to suspect him. Soon he would be on the run from everyone; hopefully Dumbledore’s letter would persuade Kingsley to call off any search for him, but Scrimgeour undoubtedly would scour the entire country for him.

Ginny kept a calm, casual demeanor, but he noticed her look away for a moment, before she stood and told him that she needed a shower. Harry watched her go for a moment, wondering how she took the situation so well, since every time he saw Ginny these days, knowing that he might never return from his mission, made his heart clench painfully. But as soon as she was gone, Mrs. Weasley served Harry his breakfast, and he dug in, hoping that Mr. Weasley hadn’t noticed anything.

After Harry finished his eggs and bacon, Ron finally appeared in the kitchen and served himself some toast.

â€�“Where have you been?” demanded Mr. Weasley. â€�“We’ve got to be there in half an hour!”

â€�“Lost track of the time,” Ron said innocently, lowering himself in the chair Ginny had vacated.

â€�“Well, you’d better hurry it up, then,” his father told him, as he stood up, â€�“because we’re going in five minutes. Thank God you’re dressed.”

Ron shot Harry an annoyed look, and the latter shrugged as Mr. Weasley left the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley, having finished cleaning up the kitchen, followed him out.

â€�“I’m about to take a test, and all I get to eat is one slice of toast?” Ron grumbled mutinously.

â€�“Perhaps you’ll Apparate more easily with less in your stomach,” Harry offered.

â€�“Then you have the disadvantage,” Ron shot back.

â€�“Perhaps your mum will cook you something better if you pass,” Harry pointed out as he put his dishes in the sink.

Ron looked slightly cheered at that, but then his smile faltered. â€�“What if I don’t pass?”

â€�“You will,” Harry insisted, and then added in a low voice, â€�“Even so, we’ve got alternatives, as Hermione demonstrated last night. It could be come our primary method of transportation.” He then smirked. â€�“She’s not going to like that.”

Ron sighed. â€�“You’re right. I’ll pass… I think. I’ve already taken it once. This time I’ll keep my eyebrows.”

He finished off his toast, and a moment later Mr. Weasley came back in. â€�“Let’s go.”

********

The Ministry of Magic wasn’t that crowded when they arrived, but to Harry’s shock, as he and Ron approached the security wizards, both sporting square silver identification badges, he caught sight of a group of reporters standing by the repaired fountain in the atrium, including, to his great annoyance, Rita Skeeter.

â€�“What are they here for?” asked Ron, staring.

Harry didn’t speculate. He had a sneaking suspicion what this was about. â€�“Bloody Scrimgeour,” he muttered.

Sure enough, as they approached the security desk, one of the reporters cried, â€�“There he is!” and the cameras started flashing. Trying to ignore them, Harry drew his wand and placed it at the security desk, and the guard put down his Daily Prophet. Harry recognized him from his first visit to the Ministry.

â€�“Good morning, Eric,” Mr. Weasley said. â€�“My son Ron and his friend Harry are both here to take their Apparition exams.”

Ron too handed Eric his wand, and the guard took both their wands, and placed Harry’s on a set of scales like the one Rok Grimrook had used. He did the same with Ron’s a moment, later, and read out, â€�“Fourteen inches, unicorn hair, willow, in use for five years, correct?”

Ron nodded.

â€�“Mr. Weasley, you know where to take them.”

â€�“Thank you.” Mr. Weasley steered Harry and Ron through the golden gates at the end of the atrium. Harry half expected the reporters to follow them, but thankfully they remained by the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Mr. Weasley led them to one of the lifts, and shut the golden grille. Several memos floated above them.

The lift descended, much more roughly than the one at Gringotts, Harry noted, but he grasped the handles hanging from the ceiling tightly and kept his balance. After a few minutes, in which Ministry wizards entered in and out of the lift at various stops, the lift stopped a fourth time and Mr. Weasley let go of his handle.

â€�“Level six, Department of Magical Transport,” a disembodied woman’s voice announced, â€�“incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparition Test Center.”

â€�“This way,” Mr. Weasley told them, leading them down a short corridor. He then took the third wooden door, and led them into an office with a polished desk next to a larger door, where a bored-looking witch sat, also reading her newspaper.

â€�“Good morning Cecilia,” Mr. Weasley greeted, and she put her newspaper down. She glanced at Harry and Ron, and then looked at a sheet of blue parchment that lay on her desk.

â€�“Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Ronald Weasley, scheduled for their Apparition tests at 10:00 am?” she read out. Mr. Weasley nodded in confirmation. â€�“You were just barely in time.”

She then turned to Harry and Ron, and pointed to a row of seats by the doors. â€�“If you’ll wait there, please.”

No sooner had Harry sat down, however, when the doors opened and a wizened man carrying a clipboard stepped into the office.

â€�“Mr. Harry Potter?” he asked, looking at Harry. He nodded, and stood. The examiner’s eyes flicked to the scar on Harry’s head, but he said nothing. â€�“If you’ll follow me, please.”

Behind the set of doors lay another corridor, much larger than the first, and each door was labeled with little white slips. Harry glanced at the first as they passed, and it read, â€�“Zabini, Blaise, 11:00; Longbottom, Neville, 11:30,” and so on.

â€�“Right here, Mr. Potter,” the examiner said, leading Harry through the next door, which read, â€�“Potter, Harry, 10:00.”

Behind the door lay a large chamber, which contained several hoops on the floor and a couple of towering blocks.

â€�“Now then, Mr. Potter,” the examiner said, â€�“there are three parts to this test. First, I need you to Apparate into those hoops in succession, counterclockwise, whenever you are ready.”

Harry nodded, and stared at the first hoop, concentrating hard on the space within its circle. Then he turned abruptly. This stage went rather well, with Harry finally finishing in the hoop he started in. The examiner said nothing, but proceeded to the next stage, which was to Apparate on top of, behind, and between the two gigantic blocks.

Once Harry stuck his head out from behind the last block, the examiner again made a note, and then looked at Harry.

â€�“The last part of this test is the most difficult, but should prove your ability to travel long distances. â€�“You are to Apparate to Diagon Alley, specifically behind Quality Quidditch Supplies, where another examiner will be waiting for you. He will confirm your arrival, and you are to bring his note back here to me.”

Harry nodded. â€�“When do you want me to go?”

â€�“Whenever you’re ready.”

Harry nodded, and thought back to the store where he’d first seen the Firebolt on sale. He then again pivoted on the floor, and went through the sensation of being pulled through a hosepipe. A moment later, the sensation ended, and he gasped for breath, staggering slightly.

â€�“A bit of a rough landing,” someone muttered, and Harry looked up to see an elderly Ministry witch seated on a chair behind a two-story building. Harry could hear people in Diagon Alley doing their shopping. The she scrutinized Harry for a moment.

â€�“No sign of Splinching,” the examiner told him, making another note, â€�“and you landed in exactly the right place.”

She then signed the note, and handed it to Harry. â€�“You may go back now.”

Harry took the note, and again Disapparated.

â€�“Very good!” the tiny wizard exclaimed as he reappeared. Harry handed him the note, and the examiner read it, and began scribbling on his clipboard, before removing the results and handing them to Harry. â€�“You did very well. Take this to the front desk, and Cecilia will give you your license. Congratulations, Mr. Potter.”

â€�“How’d you do?” Mr. Weasley asked as Harry returned to the office and handed the witch at the desk his results.

â€�“I passed,” he said, as Cecilia examined his results, before placing them on a set of scales similar to the one with which the security guards had examined his wand.

A moment later, a small card slid out from a slit in the side of the scales, and she handed it to him.

â€�“Congratulations, Mr. Potter,” she said, as Harry took the license. At that moment, Ron came back through the doors as well.

â€�“How’d you do?” he asked Harry, who showed him his license. Then he beamed. â€�“I passed too.”

â€�“Good one,” Harry said, as Cecilia then took Ron’s results and likewise placed them on the scales.

The trip back to the Atrium seemed much shorter than the trip to the Apparition Test Center. Before Harry knew it, he was back in the Atrium, and he found, to his disgust, that the circle of reporters had gotten wider. And a moment later, Rufus Scrimgeour appeared from around a corner and saw Harry there.

â€�“Ah, Mr. Potter!” he called, stepping forward in front of them. â€�“I hope your visit to the Ministry went well.”

â€�“It did,” Harry said coldly. He glanced at the reporters. â€�“You got a good turnout, I see.”

Scrimgeour’s smile faltered.

â€�“I was glad to hear that you released Stan Shunpike,” Harry continued, â€�“but that does not change my resolve. You’re here to make the same request that you made last Christmas, and again at Dumbledore’s funeral. Minister, the answer is no. I will not participate in the Ministry’s dishonesty.”

â€�“It’s for the greater good!” Scrimgeour snapped, and Harry noticed him glance at the reporters nervously. They were watching the exchange from a distance, and Harry could see a couple of them with their brows furrowed, and Rita Skeeter was scribbling in her notebook excitedly. â€�“The Wizarding World needs morale! Surely you’ve heard of the recent upsurge in attacks against Squibs and Muggleborns!”

â€�“Of course I have,” Harry retorted. â€�“But you don’t want high morale, Minister. You want the Wizarding World to think you’re more competent than you really are. I will not lie to them.”

He looked at the reporters too.

â€�“And I will not give them the false impression that I’m here to discuss war tactics with you,” Harry added angrily. With that, he walked passed Scrimgeour and pulled out his Apparition license, and waved it before the reporters, making it very clear what he was there for. The cameras flashed, and Ron and Mr. Weasley kept behind him. As an added measure, Harry saw Ron also pull out his license to show the reporters, but he did not look at Scrimgeour.

â€�“That was brilliant, Harry!” Ron laughed as they stepped into the phone box which returned them to London. â€�“Did you see Scrimgeour’s face?”

â€�“I wasn’t looking,” Harry said, tucking his license back into his pocket.

â€�“He’s not going to give up, you know,” Mr. Weasley told him seriously. â€�“You may have made things worse.”

Harry shrugged indifferently. â€�“I really don’t care at this point what the Ministry does,” he told Mr. Weasley. â€�“But I will not be used, and I will not be tricked into giving the impression he wants.”

â€�“It completely backfired,” Ron sniggered.

â€�“The only thing I want made clear,” Harry continued, ignoring Ron, â€�“is that I am not to be trifled with.”

Ron laughed again, then, as one, the three of them Disapparated.

â€�“I take it you passed, then,” Mrs. Weasley said as they filed into the kitchen. â€�“I heard you Apparate outside.”

Ron showed her his license, as Harry sat down at the kitchen table. Ginny had reappeared there, and Percy was there too.

â€�“What’s up, Harry?” Ginny asked when she saw his disgruntled expression. â€�“You look like Christmas was cancelled.”

â€�“Didn’t you pass?” asked Percy. His reconciliation with his parents had gone well, because it appeared that Mr. Weasley had completely accepted him back into the family; Mrs. Weasley was, of course, overjoyed at the return of the black sheep. Ron and Ginny were somewhat cold towards him at first, but after a while, they seemed to have warmed up a little.

â€�“He passed,” Ron chortled as he sat down again, in too good a mood to be angry with Percy. â€�“He just had a run-in with the Minister. It didn’t go well.”

With that, he told them the story, still laughing.

â€�“The look on Scrimgeour’s face was absolutely priceless!” he told them all, grinning. By this point, Ginny was laughing too.

â€�“Harry, you do realize how severe the repercussions of this could be?” Percy asked, but Harry could have sworn that he was smiling too.

â€�“Didn’t think about it,” Harry muttered, â€�“and I don’t care, really.”

â€�“Do you actually approve of what Harry did?” Ginny asked Percy incredulously.

Percy’s smile faltered, and he looked at his sandwich, avoiding their eyes. â€�“I owe all of you an apology, but especially you, Harry. I don’t expect you to forgive me for the past insults I leveled at you, because I hardly deserve it, but I want you to know that if I could take back everything I’ve done lately, I would.”

Harry, Ron, and Ginny all stared at Percy in utter amazement, but he wasn’t finished.

â€�“I was an idiot for the past couple of years,” he admitted. â€�“When I learned more about Umbridge’s abuses toward the students at Hogwarts, I tried to kid myself into believing that Fudge didn’t know about it. But when I saw the evidence that he not only knew, but approved of her actions and even suggested them, I realized what sort of people I’d associated with.”

â€�“Was that before or after last Christmas?” asked Ron, his eyebrows raised.

â€�“After,” Percy answered. â€�“Umbridge tried long and hard to cover up her actions, but in the end, Kingsley Shacklebolt finally presented incriminating evidence against her, including several witnesses that she attempted to use the Cruciatus curse on you, Harry, and she was placed under house arrest for child abuse.”

â€�“About time!” Ginny stated emphatically, as Harry finally found himself grinning too.

Looking at Percy, he told him, â€�“I accept your apology.” The latter nodded, but his gaze was still downcast. Significantly more cheerful, however, Harry thanked Mrs. Weasley as she served him and Ron their sandwiches as well.

********

It was 5:00, half an hour before her mother would begin Harry’s birthday party. Ginny sat at her desk, leaning on the surface with her head in her hands. She’d known for weeks; but now that the moment was only hours away, she felt a sudden emptiness. Through her window, she had just seen Harry slowly walking across the back garden, staring at the horizon with his hands in his pockets, probably taking a last look around the Burrow before his departure. Ginny watched him for a moment, until he finally moved out of sight.

Ginny had known that Harry’s successful Apparition test would mean his departure, probably within the next day or so, but it wasn’t until later that morning, just before he and Harry left for their exam, that Ginny had seen Ron in his room hurriedly stuffing clothes into a rucksack, and she knew instantly: they were planning on leaving that very day, in all probability right after the birthday party.

Ginny glanced at the box she had gift-wrapped earlier that week, and then glanced out the window again, knowing that Harry was probably still outside. Then she grabbed the box and hurried out her door and down the stairs. She stepped outside then, and looking around the yard, she finally spotted Harry approaching the back garden. She caught up with him as she spotted him watching a couple of gnomes fighting over an acorn. He looked up as he heard her coming.

â€�“Is it time for dinner already?” he asked.

Ginny shook her head. â€�“I just wanted to give you this, but it’s probably not a good idea to open it up at dinner. It would probably raise Mum’s suspicions.”

Harry took the box, and looked at it for a moment, before sitting on a tree stump and carefully unwrapping it. He then opened the box and withdrew what looked like a steel fountain pen, but a bit bulkier and with a glass lens at one end.

â€�“It detects enchantments and curses,” Ginny explained. â€�“There’s a switch on the side.”

Harry examined the curse sensor, and upon finding the switch, he clicked it and a small, blue light shone from the end.

â€�“If it detects anything,” she continued, â€�“the light will change color, green if it’s a harmless enchantment, red of there’s a curse or any form of Dark magic involved. I thought it might be useful.”

Harry pocketed the sensor and smiled at Ginny. â€�“Where’d you find it?”

â€�“There’s a lot of Defense stuff in Diagon Alley these days,” she told him. â€�“Mad-Eye showed these to me a few days before you got here from the Dursleys. You can imagine that he’s used them a lot.”

Harry chuckled. â€�“Naturally. Thanks, Ginny.”

â€�“Any time,” she said, and then she turned and glanced at the house. From a distance, she could see her mother in the kitchen, and she took a quick look at her watch. They would be called in to dinner soon.

â€�“We’d better get inside,” she said, â€�“before the guests start arriving and Mum comes out looking for you.”

She started to move toward the house, but the she heard Harry call her name quietly. She turned around, and Harry’s eyes met hers, before he pulled her into a hug, which he held for a moment, before letting her go.

â€�“I’ll see you at dinner,” he told her, and he took his seat on the tree stump again. â€�“I think I’d like to stay out here for another few minutes.”

Ginny nodded and slowly walked back to the house. When she reached the door, she looked back at the garden, but Harry had gotten up again and was just visible slowly meandering by the orchard.

When she returned to her room, she found Hermione looking through a rucksack similar to the one she’d seen Ron packing that morning. As she closed the door quietly, Hermione looked up in alarm, but relaxed when she saw who it was.

â€�“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. â€�“Thought it was your mum at first.”

Ginny nodded. Under any other circumstances, she might have found Hermione’s guilty look somewhat amusing (more along the lines of how Ron, Fred, or George might look when caught), but this time she couldn’t smile. â€�“That would have been bad, Mum finding out about this just before you go.”

â€�“You know we’re leaving tonight, then?” Hermione asked.

Ginny nodded. â€�“I figured as much when I saw Ron packing this morning.”

Hermione nodded and glanced back at her rucksack. â€�“I packed this last night while you were all still at dinner last night.”

â€�“Internal Extension Charm?” Ginny asked, observing the small size of the rucksack. â€�“How much of your stuff are you taking?”

â€�“Almost everything, really,” Hermione replied. â€�“I’m glad your mum just thinks I’m tidy, but really….”

She stepped up to her trunk and opened it, showing it to be almost completely empty except for a few assorted bits and pieces. Hermione stared into it for a second, and then closed the trunk just as they heard someone coming up the stairs. A second later, Mrs. Weasley entered the room.

â€�“Dinner’s just about ready,” she announced

â€�“We’ll be down in a second,” Hermione replied.

Mrs. Weasley nodded and left the room. As soon as she was gone, Hermione opened her trunk again, and took out what looked like a moneybag, which she put on Ginny’s desk. She then took a piece of paper from the desk surface, and a quill, and scribbled a note, which she handed to Ginny. She then left the room without another word.

Ginny stared after Hermione, and then looked inside the moneybag, to see it full of Galleons. At first, Ginny felt a little insulted that Hermione had decided to leave her a bag of money, but after she looked at the coins more closely, she suddenly recognized them as the D.A. contact coins.

Startled, Ginny opened Hermione’s note.

Just in case you need them.
Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, pg. 243 for engraving spells.
Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7, pg 176 for Protean Charm.

********

An hour later found Harry in the front room with all the Weasleys (Bill, Charlie, and Fleur excepted), Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, and Hagrid. They ate dinner in the front room because the kitchen was too small to fit all of them, especially with Hagrid present. While Harry was delighted to have them all there, however, he found it difficult to follow the conversations around him, because of the two letters in his inside pocket, his rucksack upstairs, and the rink in his pocket which he found himself fingering but carefully avoiding slipping on. He glanced at Ron and Hermione, who looked equally distracted, although Hermione seemed to handle it better. Ginny too was quiet.

After dinner, Mrs. Weasley came into the front room from the kitchen, and told Harry, her demeanor a little flustered, that the cake wasn’t quite ready yet.

â€�“It’s all right, we can wait,” he assured her, but feeling regretful. Part of him wanted to wait, to enjoy the comfort of the Burrow now that he had less than an hour.

â€�“We could start opening presents while we’re waiting,” Ron suggested.

â€�“That’s a good idea,” Mr. Weasley said.

Fred and George didn’t wait for Harry’s opinion. They immediately approached him and offered him a fairly large package, which he carefully took. It was very heavy, but marked with a large WWW. Harry looked at the twins suspiciously, not trusting their innocent expressions at all, but nonetheless, he carefully opened the box, and instantly was pied in the face.

His face covered in cream and filling, Harry couldn’t see a thing, but he could hear a shout of laughter, and Mrs. Weasley started yelling at the twins. However, Harry joined in the laughter as he pulled the pie off his face and used his wand to siphon the cream away.

â€�“I suppose I should have seen that coming,” he sighed in mock exasperation.

â€�“Your real present is beneath it,” George told him, still laughing.

Fred’s and George’s present turned out to be a package of assorted Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes merchandise, particularly those related to Defense Against the Dark Arts: Decoy Detonators, Instant Darkness Powder, and a few black fedoras that Harry supposed were a type of Shield Hat. There was also an assortment of products from the Skiving Snackboxes. Harry looked up at the twins, wondering, not for the first time, how much they knew about his plans to leave, but he thanked them for the supplies.

Hagrid’s present also looked to be potentially useful. He gave Harry a softer package, which contained a grayish purple cloak made of a thick, leathery hide. Before Harry or Hagrid said anything, Lupin suddenly asked, â€�“Hagrid, is that Graphorn hide?”

Hagrid nodded, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. â€�“Found it in some of me dad’s old stuff a couple of months ago, but it’s too small fer me.” Turning to Harry, Hagrid told him, â€�“Graphorn hide’s a bit rare because it’s hard to catch or kill a Graphorn, but it’s dead useful because it’s tougher than dragon hide and can block most spells.”

â€�“This was your dad’s?” Harry asked, touched that Hagrid wanted him to have it.

â€�“Yeah.” Hagrid smiled warmly. â€�“Dunno where he got it, but I’ve got no use fer it, so it’s yer’s.”

â€�“Blimey,” Harry breathed as he folded up the cloak. â€�“Thanks, Hagrid!”

Hermione gave Harry a few spellbooks and a Sneakoscope, while Ron gave him a pocketknife, which he explained was almost indestructible and never needed to be sharpened. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave Harry an enchanted razor, and finally Lupin gave Harry a steel pocket watch, which, along with the two hands and twelve numbers, also featured a number of dials and interconnecting circles.

â€�“This was Sirius’s watch,” Lupin explained to Harry. â€�“Your grandparents gave it to him on his seventeenth birthday. He’d intended to give it to you for yours.”

His hands shaking, Harry examined the watch carefully, and then, feeling his eyes water a little, he stood and pulled Lupin into an embrace. Harry then sank back onto the couch, and watched as Lupin returned to his seat next to Tonks, who took his hand affectionately.

â€�“Well, the cake should be ready any minute now,” Mrs. Weasley said, standing up. â€�“I won’t be a minute.”

Harry straightened, and he glanced at Hermione as he reached into his jacket pocket and began fiddling with the ring concealed inside. This was the moment they’d agreed upon; Hermione gave him a discreet nod, and Harry stood up.

â€�“I’ll take these upstairs, he said, pocketing Sirius’s watch and Ron’s knife, and picking up the twins’ box.

Hermione stood up too, scooping up the Graphorn cloak, the Sneakoscope, and the spellbooks. â€�“I’ll take these, if you like.”

â€�“Cheers,” Harry said casually. He then looked at Ron, who remained seated, his gaze downcast.

As he passed Ginny, Harry’s eyes met hers for a split second. The blazing look he knew so well appeared in her countenance for a moment, and then she gave him a short nod, which Harry understood to mean, â€�“Get to it.”

As soon as Harry and Hermione made it to his room and stuffed his birthday presents into his rucksack, Hermione looked at her watch.

â€�“Ron should be up here in a minute,” she whispered. â€�“Whenever somebody decides to come looking for you.”

â€�“Just one moment,” Harry told her, and he pulled the two letters out of his pocket. He laid one of them, addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, on his desk. He then opened his door, telling Hermione to wait there.

Harry stepped outside his room and closed the door quietly, before moving up the stairs as quickly and silently as he could. Every stair seemed to make a deafening creak as he did, but he didn’t stop until he reached Ginny’s room, and quietly he opened her door.

It was quite dark inside, but unlike Ron’s room, rather tidy. Harry could see a poster on one wall, but it was so dark that he couldn’t make out what it showed. The only light filtered in through Ginny’s window, shining upon her desk. Harry laid the second letter on her desk, and quickly left the room.

When he returned to his own room, he found Ron already waiting there, with one strap of his rucksack slung over his shoulder. Hermione too had put on her own.

â€�“Mum’s last message is, ‘What’s keeping you so long?’” Ron muttered, his voice hollow, and his eyes on the floor.

Harry picked up his rucksack, still amazed at how light it felt, and admired Hermione’s spellwork for a moment. Hedwig then fluttered onto his shoulder, gripping it hard so that she wouldn’t fall off him in transit. Harry looked at his beloved owl for a moment, somehow glad that he’d be taking her with him, before taking out his ring. He then held it out in front of him, looking through its circle, before raising his left index finger, poised to slide it on.

For the past few weeks, they’d been so busy planning their escape, that they hadn’t considered the moment in which they actually would. Now that moment had come, and yet Harry hesitated, because again, he considered the magnitude of what he was about to do. Then, turning to his two companions, he whispered, â€�“We can still turn back, you know. But once we put on these rings, there is no going back.”

Hermione and Ron said nothing, but Harry could see the fear in their eyes, and the determination, as the produced their own rings from their pockets. Then they heard Mrs. Weasley’s footsteps coming up the stairs, and as one, the three of them slipped on their rings. The die was cast.

********

Ginny knew long before her mother finally went upstairs in search of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, that she would find three empty rooms, and knew before the sudden anguished scream that they were gone.

Everyone in the front room jumped up when they heard her mother’s cries, and Mr. Weasley was the first to run up the stairs to see what the matter was. Fred, George, and Lupin quickly followed, but Ginny remained in her seat, her eyes shut as she tried to keep her composure. Though she’d known about this, though she’d anticipated it and even aided it, the pain of their departure was still very sharp. She knew from everyone’s reactions that they had not expected or suspected this, not even Fred and George, but an overwhelming feeling fell upon Ginny as she realized that she knew, because Harry trusted her to let him go.

Tonks, Percy, and Hagrid remained in the front room with Ginny, staring at each other in surprise and concern, and finally after a few minutes, Lupin came down, followed closely by Fred and George, with an open letter in his hands. Ginny could see that it was in Harry’s writing.

â€�“What’s happened?” Tonks asked immediately.

â€�“Harry’s gone.” Lupin sounded as though he had a head cold. â€�“Ron and Hermione too. I don’t know how they got out, but their rooms are empty, and they’ve taken most of their things with them.”

Tonks gasped, and Hagrid leapt to his feet.

â€�“Gone where?” he demanded.

Lupin sank into his chair. â€�“We should have suspected,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. â€�“They’ve obviously been planning this for a while. He left a letter.”

He then held the paper closer to his pale face, and began to read:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,

By the time you read this letter, Ron, Hermione, and I will have gone. Now that I am of age, and knowing the things I know, I have embarked on my own task against Voldemort and intend to fight him to the end. I ask you now not to go looking for me, nor should you ask the Order to do so. We are of age. This was our decision, it was not taken lightly, and we have the right to act when we think it necessary. I sincerely apologize for the distress that our actions have caused you, but what I am doing, what we are trying to accomplish, is my responsibility and not the Order’s.

Before I leave, I should take the opportunity now to thank you for the hospitality you have given me, not only in the last few weeks, but since I first came here, after Fred, George, and Ron pulled me out of my barred window at Privet Drive. Before that, no one had ever treated me as family. You were the family I never had, and you will always be at the forefront of my thoughts and hopes. I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again, but I sincerely hope that we will.

I now close in the hope that the journey ahead, and the sacrifices and actions I make, will not be in vain, and that one day the Wizarding World will be at peace again.

Harry James Potter

Hagrid sank onto the couch, which sagged under his weight, and Ginny could see large tears running from his black eyes into his beard. Tonks sat frozen in her seat, looking completely shell-shocked, but Ginny, unwilling to participate in the inevitable discussion on how to locate and bring Harry back, stood up and made her way up the stairs toward her own room. As she passed Harry’s room, she could her mother sobbing inside, and her father trying to comfort her. But Ginny continued on upstairs, until she reached her own room.

When she closed her door and turned the lights on, she started to change into her pajamas. As she pulled off her T-shirt, she caught sight of an envelope on her desk by the bag of D.A. Galleons, which she didn’t remember seeing before. Suddenly feeling somewhat nervous, Ginny picked up the envelope and opened it. Her heart started pounding as she recognized Harry’s writing again.

Dear Ginny,

You already know, of course, that I’ve gone. You’ve known for a while that I would. Take care of your mother for me, as I’m sure she’s taking this very hard, for which I am very sorry. Thank you for the support you have given me for the past few weeks: I don’t know when we’ll see each other again, if ever, but even with the very real possibility of my never returning, not once have you held me back or begged me not to go. Perhaps, if we both survive long enough, our paths will cross again.

Since I have no other opportunity, allow me to say this: a few days ago, you gave me ten minutes, which would probably make the strongest Patronus I could possibly produce, but those ten minutes were for you as well. Please take the memory with you.

I also feel that I must apologize for the hurt that I gave you at Dumbledore’s funeral, but I hope that you understand why I did what I did. However, I realize that doing so may not have prevented the Death Eaters from making you a target. Therefore, all I ask of you is to prepare yourself. I’d tell you to keep safe, but I know you won’t appreciate that, so I will simply tell you to look after yourself, and when you come of age and join the fight, give the Death Eaters hell.

Harry Potter

Ginny smiled at his last sentence, and vowed to herself that she would do just that. But once she read his signature, and put the letter in one of her desk drawers, she sank onto her bed and looked out the window at the starry sky, and felt her own tears running down her cheeks, not just for Harry, but for herself as she thought of the bleak, uncertain future that lay ahead.

********

In ancient times, ere man was born,
Gliding by from dusk to morn,
Great and awesome and time-worn,
Like jewels that the earth’s crown adorn,
The Stones of Edre flew above.

The clock chimed, interrupting Benedict Grobschmied’s reading, and he glanced up from his book of Dagadalfic legends to see that it was nine o’ clock, almost closing time. But he didn’t anticipate any visitors at this time of night, and he had half an hour left, so he sipped his glass of mead, and continued reading.

And eagles soared past storm clouds, where
Giant stones hung in the air,
Designed to dragon hamlets bear,
Which drifted in the sky above.

Ten minutes passed in silence, in which Grobschmied finished reading the legend of the Akasa Dvelara dragons. But as he proceeded to the tale of Amaranthine of the Fata, his door opened and his nephew stepped inside, followed by the proprietor’s son, Menger Gadlak. Grobschmied closed the book and set it down on his desk.

â€�“What is it, Rok?” he asked wearily.

Grimrook smiled grimly. â€�“It’s started, if a bit sooner than we anticipated. Mr. Potter’s finally made a move.”

Grobschmied stared at him for a moment, before he drained his glass of mead. Then he picked up a folded sheet of paper and muttered something in the old Tylwthteg language, and then tossed it into the air. It vanished in a puff of dust.

â€�“Then we are right behind him,” he stated, standing abruptly as he turned back to look at Gadlak and Grimrook intently. â€�“Pack your things. We’re leaving.”

********

Chapter Five
Falls the Shadow, Part One

If Ginny had expected to be in hot water with the Order, she had not anticipated how quickly the confrontation would come. Her friendship with Hermione and her closeness to Harry, however, had not gone unobserved by some of the Order and certainly not by her family, and it wasn’t long before her father and Kingsley Shacklebolt put two and two together.

She wasn’t sure how long she remained in her room after Harry left, reading and re-reading his farewell letter, but it must have been at least half an hour, until someone rapped loudly on her door. Ginny hastily shoved the letter into the desk drawer where she had also hidden Hermione’s bag of D.A. coins, just as Fred opened it without waiting for an answer.

â€�“Kingsley wants you downstairs,” he told his sister.

Because she’d already been filled with troubled thoughts about the future of her world, and whether Harry, Ron, and Hermione would ever return, and because she’d already shed a few tears about it, Ginny didn’t find it difficult to act shocked and upset. â€�“What’s the Order going to do?” she asked.

â€�“Don’t know,” her brother admitted. â€�“We’ve called an emergency meeting to decide what to do.”

â€�“And Kingsley’s letting me attend?” Ginny asked, genuinely surprised. She hadn’t been allowed to attend a closed-door Order meeting since Sirius was alive.

Fred wouldn’t meet her eyes, and Ginny suddenly felt suspicious. But she said nothing until she re-entered the front room to find herself facing what she thought must have been half of the Order of the Phoenix, including all those who had attended Harry’s birthday party. Her mother was in a corner with Arthur; her eyes were red, but she was looking at her daughter with narrowed eyes. Bill and Fleur were there too, having been called away from their honeymoon, as were Minerva McGonagall, Aberforth Dumbledore, and Mad-Eye Moody. The rest were people Ginny only vaguely recognized. They all looked angry and upset, indicating that they had already been informed of Harry’s escape. Some of them were looking at her with the same expression Molly wore, and Ginny steeled herself for what she knew was coming.

â€�“Have a seat, Miss Weasley,” Kingsley said after a moment, gesturing at an empty seat beside Bill and Fleur. As she obediently took it, Kingsley began, â€�“Miss Weasley, you consider yourself to be a close friend to Harry Potter, do you not?”

Trying hard not to blush, Ginny looked at Kingsley and nodded.

â€�“Did Mr. Potter ever say anything to you, which may have indicated why he’s left and where we might find him?”

Ginny already had her answer. â€�“I do not know where he went or what he’s up to, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said truthfully, hoping that he wouldn’t ask any more.

Arthur stood up at that moment, and leveled an intense stare at his daughter. â€�“But you knew he was going to try to leave, didn’t you?”

His tone of voice indicated that he didn’t require an answer, and Ginny knew that there was no point in denying it. She supposed that she might as well get it over with.

Glaring defiantly at her father, Ginny asked quietly, â€�“What if I did?”

Molly stared at her daughter. â€�“You knew they were planning to run away, all these weeks, and you concealed it from the Order?” she demanded.

Ginny huffed. â€�“They are of age now, Mum. They can make their own decisions, and they are perfectly capable of defending themselves.”

â€�“They’re only just of age!” her mother shot back. â€�“They haven’t even finished school yet!”

Ginny snorted. â€�“And when will they finish school, mother dear? Were you just going to sequester them here until things get better and the Ministry decides to reopen Hogwarts?” She didn’t wait for Molly’s answer. â€�“The Ministry’s run by a group of corrupt morons, and the Death Eaters get stronger every day! What in Merlin’s name makes you think it’s going to get better?”

Ginny heard angry muttering around her in response, and she heard someone say defensively, â€�“It’s not just the Ministry fighting the Death Eaters.”

â€�“I see,” Ginny shot back angrily. â€�“That makes things clear. Let’s stand back and leave it to the Order to resolve the problem, though they couldn’t save Dumbledore or Sirius, and they somehow had no inkling of Snape’s true leanings!”

She’d hit a nerve. Some of the others made defensive exclamations at this, but Ginny ignored them. Fred and George both winked at her, however, and she thought she saw Mad-Eye smiling crookedly.

â€�“At least we know what we’re getting into!” Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

â€�“Really?” Ginny bit back. â€�“Astonish me!”

â€�“Until Harry ran off on this childish crusade of his, we had a plan to protect him and prepare him for this war!” Mrs. Weasley started, but her daughter cut her off with a shout of derisive laughter.

â€�“Like what?” Ginny scoffed. â€�“We’re the Order of the Phoenix. We’ve just lost our leader, and our only spy turned out to be a traitor! So we’ve decided to hide Harry Potter away and restrict his movements, entrap him, and thus make him an easy target in the long run! And while we’re at it, we’ve renewed a Fidelius Charm!” She laughed bitterly. â€�“Great! What a success! In the meantime, how many Death Eaters have you caught or killed? How many of their operations have you thwarted? How much closer are you to ending this war, really? Should it come as a surprise if Harry’s lost faith in the Order?”

Mrs. Weasley looked apoplectic at Ginny’s words, but Ginny looked away from her mother and looked at the others. Some, like Professor McGonagall and Elphias Doge had made angry protests to Ginny’s words again, but she was satisfied to see that others, including Tonks and Lupin, looked distinctly uncomfortable.

â€�“What?” she shouted at them. â€�“Unwilling to admit that the Order doesn’t know what to do, now that Dumbledore’s gone? I’m sorry, but that’s abundantly clear to all but the totally blind!”

â€�“That’s enough, young lady,” Arthur snapped. â€�“We understand you perfectly.” He looked at Bill. â€�“She’s said her bit. Now that she’s no longer needed here, Bill, please escort her back to her room, and make sure she stays there.”

Ginny didn’t resist or argue. There was no point. She just hoped that she’d given some of the Order a few things to think about. She’d considered telling them that Harry had acted on Dumbledore’s orders, but her anger at being treated like a child, and her doubt that the Order would believe her, had stopped her. So long as the Order remained uncertain how to act anymore, Ginny was convinced that they were hardly ready to learn that there were things that their venerated leader had kept secret, even from them.

********

When Harry’s feet finally met solid ground, he found himself in complete and utter darkness, except for moonlight leaking in through what looked like cracks in a ceiling above him. He pulled the portal ring off his finger and put it back in his pocket as Hedwig fluttered off his shoulder.

â€�“Lumos,” he heard Ron whisper next to him.

The end of Ron’s wand lit up, and Harry blinked, looking around the now dimly illuminated room, which was so dusty that nobody could have been present for decades at least; the windows were boarded up, and all the furniture in the room was broken apart.

â€�“The Shrieking Shack?” Harry asked Hermione in surprise. â€�“You brought us to the Shrieking Shack?”

Hermione shrugged. â€�“I thought it would be as good a place as any to hide out for the time being. Nobody knows the truth about this place, you know, except Lupin and the Hogwarts staff, and I doubt that it’ll immediately occur to them to look here.”

â€�“And Wormtail,” Harry pointed out. â€�“He knows about the Shrieking Shack too.”

Hermione paused, worry flickering across her expression, but then she pointed out, â€�“The Death Eaters don’t know what we’ve done yet. With any luck, the Order will keep this quiet for as long as possible, so hopefully the Death Eaters won’t find out for a while. Anyway, Wormtail’s not the brightest bulb in the set, is he? It probably won’t occur to him at all.”

Harry exhaled. â€�“Right. I suppose you’ve got a point, but we can’t stay here forever, Hermione.”

â€�“What if Lupin does turn up?” asked Ron, speaking up for the first time.

Harry shrugged. â€�“I’ll be forced to jinx him, and then we leave again. Sincerely hope that doesn’t happen.”

Hermione pulled her wand from her pocket, and pointed it at the boarded windows in succession. â€�“Muffliato. Protego ambitum maxima. Tego maledictem…”

â€�“What are you doing?” asked Harry as he lowered his rucksack to the floor.

â€�“Making sure we don’t get any unwanted company,” Hermione told him as she waved her wand in an elaborate and complicated pattern. â€�“Celo interiora…”

She continued in this manner for another five minutes, while Harry and Ron got to work repairing the furniture to make their stay a little more comfortable. Finally Hermione stepped back from the windows and doors, and pointed her wand at the fireplace.

â€�“Incendio.”

A roaring fire illuminated the room, giving it a very different look from its previous atmosphere. With a wave of her wand, Hermione also cleared up the dust in the room, and then she sank onto the sofa Ron had just magically repaired. Their work done, the three of them sat in silence before the fire.

Harry thought back to the birthday party at the Burrow. It seemed likely that Mrs. Weasley or someone else had already discovered their absence. Had Mrs. Weasley found his letter? Had Ginny read hers? Were members of the Order, even as they sat here before a fire in the Shrieking Shack, already seeking them out? And how long would it be before the Ministry and the Death Eaters started searching for them too?

But then Harry forced himself not to think of the Burrow. Instead he opened up the rucksack and pulled out the box with Dumbledore’s journals and the box of old letters. As soon as he opened the box, however, Hermione, who was watching him, suddenly spoke up. â€�“Fawkes.”

â€�“Sorry?”

â€�“You were supposed to call Fawkes as soon as you left the Burrow, remember?”

â€�“Oh yeah.” Harry looked at the letter that lay on top of the journals in the box, and reopened it to read over Dumbledore’s instructions again. Call for Fawkes, and he will bring you my Pensieve and all the memories I have collected. Harry had absolutely no idea how to summon the phoenix. True, Fawkes had turned up in a moment of need in the Chamber of Secrets, but Harry had neither called nor expected him. On the other hand, he had successfully summoned Kreacher the house-elf by simply calling his name, so perhaps the phoenix could sense the call too.

Feeling very foolish, Harry called feebly, â€�“Fawkes?”

Nothing happened for a moment, in which Ron and Hermione looked around in anticipation, but as their faces fell in disappointment, there was a sudden flash of light before them, not in the fireplace, but in front of it. Harry’s hand shot up before his face to shield his eyes, but when he lowered it, he saw that a black leather chest had appeared in front of the fireplace, and another box placed on top of it. Dumbledore’s scarlet swan-like bird stood perched on top of the smaller box.

â€�“Hello, Fawkes.” Harry reached forward to stroke the phoenix’s beautiful plumage. Fawkes trilled in response, and nudged Harry’s hand with his beak, before fluttering to the floor, allowing Harry to open up the chest. As promised, the stone basin lay encased in the chest, but it was completely empty. Hermione and Ron had bent down to look into it too.

Hermione ran her fingers along the side of the basin, examining the runes. â€�“These are really rare,” she whispered in fascination.

Ron, meanwhile, had opened up the other box, from which he produced a crystal phial full of some of the silvery memories Dumbledore had promise. It had a yellowing label attached to it.

â€�“H. Slughorn, December 2nd, 1943,” Ron read. â€�“It says ‘defective’ in parentheses.”

â€�“That must be the bad memory Professor Slughorn gave Dumbledore,” Harry surmised. â€�“Hang on, there’s a note in here.”

He reached into the case and pulled out the small piece of parchment that protruded from beneath the basin.

Harry,
To deposit your own memories into the Pensieve, focus on the memory you wish to examine and use your wand to extract it as you have seen me do. The nonverbal incantation is ‘Exprimo memoriam.’ The incantation to leave the Pensieve is ‘Exiro,’ also nonverbal.

I hope you make good use of this parting gift.

Prof. Dumbledore

â€�“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Hermione said after she and Ron scanned the note. â€�“This will probably be really helpful.”

Harry looked at Fawkes. â€�“Thank you very much.”

The phoenix then looked pointedly at Dumbledore’s box, which lay forgotten on the sofa, and trilled again. Harry looked from Fawkes to the box, before he remembered Dumbledore’s other request. He quickly removed the journals from the box and pulled out a letter addressed to Kingsley, which he then gave to Fawkes, who snatched it up in his beak and then, in another flash of fire, disappeared.

â€�“Well, that’s done with,” Ron said quietly as he took out another phial. â€�“So now what?”

â€�“I still think that we should start with R.A.B.,” Hermione replied. â€�“You made the list of Death Eaters, didn’t you, Harry?”

Harry scowled. â€�“I’ve gone over it four times. I just cannot think of any with those initials.”

â€�“Harry, I cannot imagine how this R.A.B. would have written such a note if he wasn’t in Voldemort’s inner circle,” Hermione protested.

â€�“I know,” Harry snapped. â€�“Perhaps there’s some Death Eater that died in the first war, or perhaps nobody knew he was a Death Eater. But I saw the members of Voldemort’s inner circle the night he came back, and I don’t remember anyone with those initials.”

â€�“Perhaps that’s why Dumbledore left you the Pensieve,” Hermione said as she reached into the case and again ran her fingers over the basin’s runes. â€�“It would help you analyze things you can’t remember as easily. Maybe somebody mentioned something in the graveyard, or some other time. Anything would help, Harry. Besides, you need practice using this thing.”

Before Harry could reply, he saw Ron yawn suddenly out of the corner of his eye, and he glanced at the watch Lupin gave him. It was already very late, and suddenly he realized that he too felt very tired.

â€�“All right,” he assured Hermione, â€�“but I think we should call it a night. I’ll get started in the morning.”

*********

When she woke up the next morning, Ginny was angry, but not all that surprised, to find that someone, probably Molly or Bill, had magically locked her inside her room. But this at least gave Ginny some measure of privacy, and she seated herself at her desk to re-read Harry’s letter. When she opened her desk drawer to withdraw the letter, her eyes fell on the bag of D.A. coins, and she took one out to examine it, considering Hermione’s unexpected decision to leave them to Ginny.

She waited for more than an hour to be let out, but finally, as she sat at her desk, staring at Harry’s parting words and Hermione’s hint about the D.A. in an effort to ignore her growling stomach, she heard someone step outside her door and the lock clicked. Then the door swung open, and Ginny looked up to see Bill standing there.

â€�“Am I allowed out yet?” Ginny asked sardonically.

Bill nodded, looking glum, but he stepped back and allowed Ginny to leave her room. When she arrived in the kitchen, she found Molly cooking breakfast, but as Ginny took a seat at the table, her mother ignored her pointedly. Ginny sighed internally, but this wasn’t all that unexpected. The fact that one of her sons had run away for reasons she simply couldn’t comprehend was hard enough on Molly, but the fact that he had done so to help Harry fight the Death Eaters, refusing the help of the Order in the process, was another matter entirely. Molly Weasley, however, accustomed to letting out her temper rather than allowing it to build, needed an outlet to direct her anger, and Ginny became that outlet, because in Molly’s eyes, Ginny had done the unforgivable in concealing Harry’s intentions.

It was a mark of just how angry Molly was with her daughter that she didn’t even begin shouting. Ginny, however, calmly served herself some eggs and readied herself for the inevitable quarrel.

She’d hardly finished her breakfast when Molly glanced out the window and without looking at Ginny, she said curtly, â€�“De-gnoming, now.”

Ginny actually welcomed the chore, at the moment wishing to be as far away from her mother as possible, so she hurried out the back door and took a seat on the tree stump in the garden, looking around for any gnomes. After a few minutes, she caught sight of one sneaking behind a rock, and Ginny dived down and seized the little creature by its ankles.

â€�“Gerroff me!” the gnome squealed, but Ginny ignored it and swung it in circles for half a minute, before she flung it over the hedge as hard as she could.

â€�“That felt good,” she thought, and then she grabbed a couple of other gnomes who had heard the first’s squeal.

Let out the steam, burn off the stress, as Fred sometimes would tell her. A good distraction from her anger with her parents and her worry about Harry. But she’d done all she could for Harry, and nothing the Order said would make her betray him now.

The second gnome flew over the hedge, then the third, and Ginny watched as they landed within feet of each other, and tried and failed to stand up. She smiled in satisfaction, and then turned to look for another.

After a few minutes of this, she saw George enter the back garden, and seeing her at the hedge, he approached and asked nonchalantly, â€�“Eight in the morning and she’s already got you doing chores?”

Ginny scowled but didn’t reply.

â€�“Sorry about Bill locking you in your room last night,” George added. â€�“Not like you’re going to run off yourself and traipse about the country with Harry, though I bet you’d like to.”

â€�“Speaking of which,” Ginny asked, speaking for the first time since Bill had let her out of her room, â€�“how was the search last night?”

George shrugged. â€�“Never happened. Kingsley called it off.”

Ginny blinked, convinced that she couldn’t have heard right.

â€�“Fawkes turned up in the middle of the meeting,” George added, seeing her surprise. â€�“He had a letter from Dumbledore. I guess he’d been waiting for Harry to leave.”

â€�“Dumbledore left the Order a letter?” Ginny repeated. â€�“What did he say?”

â€�“Well, I didn’t get to see the letter myself,” George said, â€�“nor did Kingsley read it out loud. But Kingsley immediately told the rest of the Order to go home and wait for further news the second he read the letter. Then he told us that apparently Harry’s following Dumbledore’s orders.” He raised an eyebrow at his sister. â€�“But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

Ginny shrugged, and hurled an eighth gnome over the hedge.

â€�“Well, all I can say is that no matter what Mum thinks, if there’s anyone among us who can look after themselves in a world threatened by Death Eaters, it’s Harry Potter,” George said thoughtfully. â€�“Just look at his record. Harry’s not only encountered You-Know-Who more often than most in the Order, but he survived all of those encounters.”

â€�“You put a lot of faith in him,” Ginny observed.

George raised his eyebrows. â€�“So do you.”

His sister managed a weak smile.

â€�“On a different subject,” George said, watching Ginny carefully, â€�“I’m curious what you’re going to do now, what with Hogwarts not reopening.”

Ginny sighed. â€�“Practice, I guess. Go through the textbooks and try to learn the material I would be studying if Hogwarts opened.”

â€�“Fleur thinks you should go to Beauxbatons,” George told Ginny, and smirked when he saw her grimace. â€�“So, what about after you come of age?”

Ginny shook her head. â€�“I’m not entirely sure, really. Get my N.E.W.T.s, I guess, and I was going to try to join the Order, but now…” She scowled, but didn’t finish her sentence. Her words at Kingsley’s emergency meeting, she knew, were an affront to the Order. She therefore had possibly ruined her chances of ever joining their membership.

********

â€�“I’ve been thinking,” Hermione said at breakfast the next morning. â€�“Do you think Voldemort might have hidden one at his old orphanage?”

Harry looked up from the eggs she had obtained (with her hair and eye color temporarily changed so no one would recognize her) in Hogsmeade. He frowned, thinking about this possibility, but then he shook his head.

â€�“I doubt it,” he said, poking at the egg whites with his fork. â€�“He liked to hide them where he had felt powerful at some point. He was miserable at that orphanage, though. He hated the place, and I can’t see him hiding a piece of his soul there.”

Hermione deflated, but she still looked curious. â€�“It might still be worth a look, though, don’t you think?”

Harry swallowed another bite, and shrugged. â€�“I suppose. Thing is, I know the name of the orphanage, but not where it is.”

â€�“I think that a morning in a Muggle library would help me locate it,” Hermione said dismissively. â€�“I’ve got a library card. Haven’t used it for years, but I think it’ll still work.”

â€�“I doubt that Ron’s willing to spend the morning in a library tracking down an orphanage,” Harry warned.

â€�“You and Ron don’t need to come,” Hermione replied. â€�“Besides, you shouldn’t go out in the open if we’re going to hide from the Ministry. I’m less likely to be noticed.”

Harry hesitated. He honestly didn’t like Hermione going off on her own like this, but he supposed that he couldn’t afford to forego examining any potential area where Voldemort could have hidden a Horcrux or the hint of a Horcrux. Hermione could take care of herself, and she could easily move about the Muggle world inconspicuously, whereas Harry would be noticed by anyone connected to the magical world. Besides, he needed to begin research on R.A.B. Finally he nodded, and Hermione smiled.

â€�“I’ll come back at noon,” she promised. â€�“If I’m not back by then, you can come looking for me.”

She then pulled a small notepad from her pocket, and tore out a leaf, before picking up a ballpoint pen that lay on the table, and wrote something on the paper, which she gave to Harry. It was the name and location of the library she planned to visit.

â€�“Be careful,” he told her. â€�“And be sure to get back here on time.”

Hermione stood up. â€�“Perhaps I should take your Invisibility Cloak as well, just to be safe.”

Harry withdrew the cloak from his hoodie pocket. â€�“Don’t lose it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. â€�“Have I ever lost it?” Harry chose not to retort as images of the cloak left in the Astronomy Tower and under the Whomping Willow floated to the surface of his memory.

By the time Ron came into the Shrieking Shack’s tiny, disused kitchen, Hermione had already gone, but Harry quickly explained where she went as Ron served himself some eggs. Ron was instantly seized with worry, but he too had confidence in Hermione’s ability to look after herself.

â€�“So what should we do while she’s at this library?” he asked.

â€�“Start using the Pensieve, I think,” Harry said. â€�“I’m going to compile a list of all of Voldemort’s inner circle. Lucky I have just the memory to start with.”

Ron looked into the front room, where they had left the chest containing the Pensieve.

â€�“Do you need any help?” he asked. â€�“I’ve never used those things before.”

â€�“By all means.” Harry stood up. â€�“Finish your breakfast. I’ll be waiting in there.”

Ron nodded, and Harry turned and left the kitchen. He then entered the front room where the three of them had spent the night, and slowly opened the black chest. The Pensieve’s smooth surface seemed to glint in the sunlight now filtering through the boarded windows. Harry reached into the chest and carefully lifted the stone basin from the chest. He had expected it to be heavy, but to his surprise the Pensieve turned out to be surprisingly light. Slowly Harry turned around and placed the Pensieve on a table in the corner, which he had repaired the night before. He then pulled Dumbledore’s instructions from his pocket and read them again carefully before drawing his wand.

Following the instructions to the letter, Harry placed the tip of his wand next to his temple, and closing his eyes, he thought of a graveyard near an obscure village, where a ring of men clad in black robes surrounded a cauldron and an emaciated creature with a face like a snake’s…

Exprimo memoriam, Harry thought, focusing hard on the graveyard. He then slowly pulled his wand away.

It was a strange feeling, like pulling a loose but cold thread from his temple, but as his opened his eyes he saw the silvery memory strand gleaming, attached to the tip of his wand like spider silk. Harry gave his wand a little shake, and the memory fell into the Pensieve, the interior of which immediately glowed.

Harry read Dumbledore’s note again, before pocketing it. He then looked inside his rucksack until he found what he was looking for, a ballpoint pen and a lined notebook where he had written everything he could remember about Voldemort’s Horcruxes…

He didn’t have to wait long for Ron to finish his breakfast. Harry had just barely laid the notebook on the table when his friend entered the room.

â€�“You’re ready then?” he asked.

Harry nodded. â€�“Let’s see if I did this right.”

Ron stepped up to the Pensieve. â€�“What do I do?” he asked curiously.

â€�“Stick your head in it,” Harry told him simply. Ron’s brow furrowed, but he did as he was instructed, and slowly lowered his head into the basin. A moment later he seemed to fall inside it, as though he had been sucked down a drain. Harry picked up the pen and notebook, and too dipped his head into his own memory, and a moment later he found himself standing next to Ron in a dark graveyard.

â€�“Looks like I did it correctly,” Harry said, looking around.

â€�“So this is where it happened?” Ron asked, staring around the scene with wide eyes.

Harry nodded, and pointed at a gravestone where a dark figure lay unmoving.

â€�“Is that Cedric?” Ron whispered. Harry nodded. â€�“And where are you?”

â€�“Over there.”

Ron looked in the direction Harry indicated, where a fourteen-year-old version of himself, bruised and dirty, and with a mangled leg, stood bound to a headstone with a gag in his mouth. The grave was labeled Tom Riddle. The younger Harry stared in terror and disbelief at a cauldron nearby, as well as a crumpled Wormtail cradling the bleeding stump that was left of his arm. It was then that Harry saw the dark silhouette of his enemy rise up from a cauldron, and command Wormtail to robe him.

Though he knew that this was only a memory, that he was not really facing Voldemort, Ron took in the madman’s flat, pale face and scarlet eyes, and his own face went almost as white, and his eyes were wide with terror.

â€�“That’s him?” he whispered, shocked, and Harry nodded, realizing that Ron had never actually seen Voldemort in person before.

They watched as Voldemort used Wormtail’s Dark Mark to summon the Death Eaters, and moments later the sound of swishing cloaks met their ears, and nine hooded wizards appeared in the graveyard, standing in a circle around Voldemort and the younger Harry. The older Harry observed Voldemort reprimanding the Death Eaters, and knowing that the moment was seconds away, he opened up his notebook and clicked his pen.

Then a shriek met his ears, as a Death Eater flung himself forward, and fell to his knees before Voldemort. â€�“Master! Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!”

Voldemort laughed mercilessly, and cast the Cruciatus curse. He held his victim under it for a moment, and the Death Eater screamed, but seconds later Voldemort released him.

â€�“Get up, Avery,” he said coolly.

Harry lifted his notebook and made a note.

The whole thing seemed to go much faster than Harry remembered, but he supposed that this time his life wasn’t in danger, although he was glad he had the notebook to distract him. He remembered the terror, and watching it again wasn’t easy to do. When it actually happened, the ensuing conversation Voldemort had with the Death Eaters seemed to take an eternity, but now he realized that the entire incident hadn’t taken more than a few minutes, half an hour at most.

Ron, however, stared at the scene, his now sickly face a mixture of disgust and shock at what he was seeing. He gagged as Wormtail, reveling in the installation of his artificial hand, obsequiously kissed the hem of Voldemort’s robes and took his own place in the circle.

They watched as Voldemort moved around the circle, speaking fist to Lucius Malfoy. Harry made careful notes of everyone Voldemort talked to, as well as writing the basics of what he said to them. Once Voldemort finished speaking to Malfoy, he then turned to survey a gap between his servant and the next man.

â€�“The Lestranges should stand here,” he said, â€�“but they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce me…”

Harry added Rodolphus Lestrange to the list. Bellatrix was already on it. He noticed that Voldemort passed some of the Death Eaters in silence, whom Harry couldn’t identify at the time of the incident, but he now recognized two of them by their build: Amycus and Alecto Carrow, who were present at Dumbledore’s death, though he didn’t recognize the third. Ron, however, did.

â€�“Gibbon,” he told Harry. â€�“He was killed the night Dumbledore died.”

Voldemort stopped before a Death Eater that stood next to Dolohov. â€�“Macnair… destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic, now, Wormtail tells me? You shall have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord Voldemort will provide….”

He ignored Macnair’s mutterings of thanks, before turning to acknowledge Crabbe and Goyle. He then spoke to Nott, who bowed to Voldemort.

â€�“My Lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful…”

â€�“That will do,” Voldemort cut across him.

Ron looked revolted. â€�“Look at the way they pamper to him!”

Harry too was disgusted, now that he no longer needed to feel the terror that his fourteen-year-old self had felt. The lack of the actual threat of death allowed Harry to observe the Death Eaters more carefully, and the more he watched, the more sickened he became at their delusion and stupidity. Did they really think that Voldemort upheld and respected them, when he so obviously had manipulated them so thoroughly?

But Voldemort had moved on. â€�“And here we have six missing Death Eaters … three dead in my service.” Harry made another note. â€�“One, too cowardly to return … he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever … he will be killed, of course … and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service. He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that your young friend arrived here tonight.”

As he turned to survey the boy tied to the gravestone, Harry, not wishing to watch what transpired, took hold of Ron’s arm. â€�“Let’s go,” he told his friend. â€�“We don’t need to see what happens next.”

As Harry pulled on Ron’s arm, he thought Exiro, and a moment later he and Ron found themselves back in the Shrieking Shack. Ron sank onto a chair nearby, his face a bit green.

â€�“All right,” Harry said, looking at the additions to the list, â€�“so we’ve got most of Voldemort’s inner circle: Avery, Wormtail, Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Alecto Carrow, Amycus Carrow, Gibbon, Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, three dead Death Eaters, one traitor, one coward, and Barty Crouch Jr.” He sighed. â€�“None of them have the initials R.A.B.”

Ron, recovered slightly, asked, â€�“What about the unnamed Death Eaters?”

Harry consulted his list. â€�“Snape must be somewhere in there,” he said coldly, feeling a fresh stab of anger at his former Hogwarts professor. â€�“I suppose he’s the traitor Voldemort referred to.” He then frowned. â€�“That’s odd.”

â€�“Maybe he’s the coward,” Ron suggested.

Harry shook his head. â€�“No, I think that must have been Igor Karkaroff. You remember that he ran off as soon as his Dark Mark burned that night, and was found dead a year later? Perhaps at the time Voldemort thought Snape’s loyalty was Dumbledore’s… we all did.”

â€�“What about the dead Death Eaters?” asked Ron.

â€�“Rosier and Wilkes,” Harry told him automatically, â€�“and…” He frowned again. â€�“You know, at the time I thought that the third was Quirrel, but now that I think about it, I’m not sure if Quirrel was a part of Voldemort’s inner circle or simply someone he encountered later.”

â€�“I could be dead wrong,” Ron said, â€�“but unless Quirrel was a lot older than he looked, there’s no way he could have met Voldemort before his downfall. Quirrel couldn’t have been more than a teenager when Voldemort killed your parents.”

â€�“You’ve got a point there,” Harry conceded. â€�“And now that I think about it, I remember that Voldemort talked about Quirrel, and said that he had never encountered him until the year he toured the world, and that was long after Voldemort’s downfall.”

Harry thought this over for a moment, and then he sank onto the couch in front of the fireplace. â€�“I can’t think how he could have found out about the Horcruxes unless he was in Voldemort’s inner circle, so I bet my life that the dead Death Eater was R.A.B.”

Hermione returned an hour later, and Harry and Ron immediately recounted their discovery. She listened with rapt attention, and then said that perhaps she could sneak into the Hogwarts library and go through old records of the trials, easy enough with the passage to the Whomping Willow.

â€�“It’s not a guarantee, mind you,” Hermione told them, â€�“but if there was anyone mentioned in the trials, who was suspected…”

She fell silent, her expression thoughtful. After a few minutes, Harry asked, â€�“So, did you find anything about the orphanage?”

She nodded. â€�“I located its address in an old newspaper,” she told him, â€�“but when I went to that address, I found that the entire block was torn down about twenty years ago. There’s a council estate there now.”

Harry shrugged. â€�“I didn’t think there’d be a Horcrux there anyway.”

â€�“No, I think that’s fairly clear,” Hermione sighed.

At that moment, Ron’s stomach growled loudly. He looked at them sheepishly for a moment, then asked, â€�“What are we going to do about lunch?”

â€�“We could get something in the village,” Hermione suggested, â€�“but at this time of day, somebody might recognize us. I don’t think we need that.”

Before anybody could reply, they heard a soft hoot from a window sill, and then Hedwig fluttered onto Harry’s shoulder.

â€�“You want to go outside?” Harry asked. The owl hooted again, and hopped onto his wrist. Her owner looked at Ron and Hermione, and then struck with inspiration, Harry looked back at Hedwig.

â€�“You think you could bring back something edible?” Harry asked the owl.

Hedwig gave him a pointed stare, and Harry snorted as he realized that it was what the owl intended. Looking back at Ron and Hermione, Harry asked them, â€�“Did I ever tell you how intelligent my owl is?”

Ron shrugged, but Hermione became seriously concerned about the owl’s conspicuousness.

â€�“Snowy owls aren’t native to Britain, and plenty of people know you’ve got a snowy owl,” she pointed out to Harry. â€�“If the wrong person sees Hedwig, they’ll get suspicious.”

Harry was unable to argue with this, and in the end they decided, much to Hedwig’s annoyance, to Transfigure her features a bit before one of them took her into the mountains under the Invisibility Cloak.

********

Hedwig returned an hour later, and true to Harry’s request, she brought two rabbits that she had killed, which, when Ron let her in, she deposited on the kitchen table. Hermione wrinkled her nose.

â€�“Thanks, Hedwig,” Harry said, stroking the owl’s feathers. â€�“Anybody know how to skin a rabbit?”

â€�“Yeah, I do,” Ron told him, standing up. â€�“Dad once showed me how to skin one, once when we really didn’t have a lot of money. That was the year he got the car, you see, and for a while we had to save every Knut. So we grew or hunted our own food for the most part.”

â€�“Do it outside,” Hermione requested, looking a little queasy. â€�“I hate watching this.”

Ron raised his eyebrows, but he shrugged and pointed his wand at a cabinet, and summoned a steel bowl. He then picked up the two rabbits and looked at Harry. â€�“You got your pocket-knife, the one I gave you?”

Harry nodded and pulled the knife from his pocket. Ron took it and he and Harry went to the back door.

â€�“Don’t step off the porch,” Hermione warned them. â€�“The perception charms don’t go beyond it. And keep your voices low, because the charms don’t hide sound.”

Ron seated himself on one side of the wide back porch, and after Harry seated himself beside Ron, the latter opened up the pocket-knife and began making incisions in one of the rabbits. Harry watched with interest as Ron worked, and a moment later Ron handed the carcass to Harry.

â€�“Pull the skin off, starting from the cuts,” Ron instructed. â€�“It’s not hard. The hide just comes right off. I’ll get started with this other one.”

Harry did as he was told, and began peeling the skin off beginning from the incisions at the rabbit’s feet and rump. The animal’s flesh was unpleasantly cold and slimy, but Harry ignored this and continued working until he worked the hide completely off the carcass and dropped the coney into the bowl. He simply tossed the hide into the overgrowth underneath a boarded window.

â€�“Wonder how long we’re staying here?” Ron asked as he too began skinning the other rabbit.

â€�“Not long, I hope,” Harry said. â€�“Even if the Shrieking Shack is safe temporarily, and only a few people know about the passageway to it, it’s not a good residence. We’re too close to a wizarding settlement, and Hogsmeade is a small town. It won’t be long before somebody works out that someone’s hiding here.”

Ron nodded in agreement. â€�“I think Hermione knows that, but we need to find somewhere more secure. We need a base of operations. We won’t be able to make much progress if our energy is put into keeping on the move.”

â€�“I’m aware of that,” Harry said as Ron dumped the second coney into the bowl. â€�“We should try to find a place when we next go out. I’ve been meaning to go visit Godric’s Hollow anyway, so that’s as good a place to start as any.”

â€�“Hermione’s worried about you going to Godric’s Hollow, though,” Ron told him. â€�“She thinks Voldemort might set some sort of trap for you there.”

â€�“I notice you’re saying his name now,” Harry said, grinning, and Ron shrugged sheepishly. â€�“But back to the point, Voldemort shouldn’t know what we’ve done yet. We only left yesterday. Unless someone did something stupid and told the Ministry, this shouldn’t have gone past the Order yet. Hopefully he thinks we’re still under the Order’s protection.”

â€�“Still, we should be careful when we actually do go to Godric’s Hollow.” Ron tossed the rabbit hide into the bushes nearby. â€�“Even if he thinks the Order’s hiding you, Voldemort might have rigged something. I also should point out that he probably thinks it’s more likely that you’ll start fighting him, now that Hogwarts has closed and you’re of age. He’s going to start fighting tooth and nail to get to you.”

â€�“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

Ron shrugged. â€�“Been talking with Hermione, mate. A lot of this is her own worries. I agree with her, though. I’m not going to refuse to allow you to go to Godric’s Hollow, but I think it had better be as soon as possible, before Voldemort finds out that you’ve scarpered, and all three of us should be present as a precaution.”

â€�“Fine by me,” Harry said, standing up and taking the bowl with him. â€�“Plan on it some time this week, then. I’ll help with the cooking. If we can make some broth, there’s probably enough meat on these to make a decent soup.”

Harry and Ron stepped back through the back door and closed it, hoping to have a more filling meal than their earlier breakfast. Neither of them had seen the raven perched on the oak nearby, watching or perhaps listening intently, which took flight as soon as the door snapped shut.

********

The scent of forest rain, once the storm had subsided, infused into the smell of sea spray, but though it had stopped raining, a thick fog filled the scene, and as he clambered onto the wooden dock, Grobschmied lowered his hood and raised a lantern to better see through the mist. He could just barely make out the distant pine trees, but not much else, until a blurred shape, another goblin, shifted into view, carrying a leather satchel and also holding a lantern. He was younger than Grobschmied, though not by much, and he wore a beaver hat as well as a pair of round bifocals with thick rims.

â€�“Cerdik,” Grobschmied greeted quietly.

The other goblin, Cerdik Gadlak, smiled and held out his hand, which Grobschmied shook. â€�“Evening, Benedict. Glad to see you’ve made it here.”

Grobschmied nodded, and looked out at the outlines of the trees. â€�“So this is it?” he asked curiously.

Gadlak nodded. â€�“Can’t see much right now, but the fog will clear up soon. I hope it’s to your satisfaction. I really can’t think of any better place to work from.”

â€�“Dhárdan di Ginbaingh,” Grobschmied breathed the place’s name. â€�“Sanctuary of the goblins.”

Gadlak looked pleased with himself as they slowly crossed the dock and stepped past an open gate through which ran a damp, wooden walkway. â€�“Good thing you’re one of the few who’s heard of it. It would make all this easier.”

â€�“What sort of condition is it in?”

â€�“The villages?” Gadlak shrugged. â€�“Only a few people live here, but not enough to keep the buildings completely preserved. The original inhabitants intended to return from the Triskelen wars, of course. But some remained behind to keep the place running.”

â€�“So it just a bit of restoration,” Grobschmied said, pausing by one of the trees to examine a watch post that was set up nearby; the wooden turret did look a bit run down. Grobschmied could see that the heavy bolts holding the turret together were loose, and he could hear the wood creaking.

Gadlak nodded. â€�“I suppose, but it’s nothing we can’t handle, though, once we really get started.”

Grobschmied nodded, and they continued up the walkway. â€�“Where are we headed, anyway?”

â€�“There’s a tower built in a crevice in the hillside,” Gadlak told him. â€�“Unlike half the buildings in the villages, the tower is still in perfect condition, very well preserved. That’s where we’ll be staying.”

â€�“Glad of it,” Grobschmied muttered, feeling himself shivering. â€�“I could do with some tea.”

Gadlak grinned. â€�“An excellent idea. So let’s hurry. It’s not far.”

He was quite right. It was only about a five minute walk before Grobschmied could just barely make out a stone edifice extending from within the crevice Gadlak had mentioned, and quickening his pace, he and his friend strode past the gates set up outside the tower grounds, and within minutes, Grobschmied found himself standing in a wooden, hexagonal room, unfurnished except for a table set up at one side, along with a chair upon which Gadlak discarded his hat and his wool coat. He put his satchel and his lantern on the table and then stepped to the tower entrance and pulled a lever by the doorway. A moment later a heavy granite door slid across the entrance.

Gadlak then stepped to an empty fireplace at one side, and bent over its grate. A moment later, he stepped back as a roaring fire ignited. Grobschmied sighed with relief at the sudden warmth, but Gadlak had opened his satchel and pulled out some folded paper, which he spread out across the table. Grobschmied stepped to Gadlak’s side for a better look, and saw that it was a map of Dhárdan di Ginbaingh.

â€�“We’re here,” Gadlak said, pointing at a circular mark on the largest island. â€�“The Tower is the largest and most protected building here, as well as the oldest, though I believe it’s been renovated several times. There are two villages, one up here at the north end…” He indicated a mark not too far from the Tower. â€�“… and the southern village, down in the grassy area where the hills and forest end.”

â€�“How large is this island?” asked Grobschmied.

â€�“About five miles long and two miles wide,” Gadlak informed him. â€�“Not a large island, by any means, but certainly large enough to accommodate a fair number of people.”

Grobschmied looked at the second largest island, located a little east of the first. â€�“What about this? What’s here?”

â€�“That’s where we generate power,” Gadlak replied. â€�“It was incorporated decades ago, before Grindelwald came to power.” Gadlak frowned at the smaller island. â€�“I’m told that it actually also needs remodeling. It’s old as well as old-fashioned. I suppose I’ll have to hire one of our scouts to learn more about current Muggle power stations.”

â€�“Just as well,” Grobschmied told him, and then he chuckled. â€�“You know, I think that making it possible for electrical power and magic to enhance each other is perhaps the greatest innovation in the whole history of magic. Yet wizards don’t use it; in fact, I don’t think they’ve even discovered it.”

Gadlak shrugged. â€�“If they still haven’t figured out how to incorporate electrical power into a magical environment, that’s their problem. The idiots in the Ministry and the I.C.W. are so convinced that all other studies and disciplines, Muggle, goblin, or elf, are beneath them, that I doubt that this kind of innovation would occur to them.”

â€�“Well, I hope you’re right,” Grobschmied sighed, â€�“because if wizards figure out how to do this, then we’ll lose a significant advantage over the Death Eaters.”

â€�“Oh, and talking of wizards, have you found any sign of Harry Potter?” asked Gadlak curiously.

Grobschmied smirked. â€�“Rok’s spell worked perfectly. But we haven’t been able to actually reach him yet; Mr. Potter’s Muggle-born friend has shown herself to be quite adept at protective enchantments.”

â€�“And when you do contact him?” Gadlak asked. â€�“How will you convince him?”

Grobschmied’s eyes met his. â€�“I think there’s only one way to approach Mr. Potter in this case, and that’s telling him the truth.”

The other goblin stared at him for a moment, and then he exhaled slowly and nodded. â€�“Yes, I suppose you’re right. If you’re going to gain his trust, you’ll have to be completely open with him. I just hope that Mr. Potter sees that we have something to offer him.”

********

Chapter Six
Falls the Shadow, Part Two

In the days following Harry’s birthday, Ginny spent the vast majority of her time doing chores her mother assigned as punishment for her indirect involvement in his â€�“escapade.” In that time, Ginny had mucked out the chicken coop, daily collected the chickens’ eggs, de-gnomed the garden at least half a dozen times, tidied up the kitchen, the front room, the back room, and all the bedrooms, and spent half her time between these chores peeling potatoes or slicing up carrots or some other vegetable to help her mother with the cooking. In fact, Ginny was working so hard, without the assistance of magic, that by the next Monday she’d almost forgotten that there was magic to do the chores.

Intended as a punishment, these chores actually turned out to be a welcome distraction for Ginny, who thought that she’d think herself to insanity if she weren’t actually doing something hands-on. For one thing, since Harry left, the memory of Tom Riddle had started haunting her again, now almost every night.

On Wednesday morning, exactly a week after Harry’s escape, Ginny woke up at about three, and unable to fall asleep again, she wandered downstairs, as she so often did, to get herself some water. She then took a seat at the kitchen table and looked out the window to the night sky, unpolluted, as always, by urban lights, and, of course, unchanging.

The boy turned and saw her, then he recoiled at the glare etched on her face.

â€�“Aren’t you Ron Weasley’s sister?” he asked uncertainly.

His apprehension, his weakness, filled her with a sort of insane, sickening delight. They were mere playthings, these children, an outlet for her power. Excited about the anticipated power she soon would feel, she began the attack, closing in on her prey like a wolf closing in on a lamb. A low, poisonous, acidic hiss escaped Ginny’s lips, a sound both unfamiliar and so familiar to her. The diabolical instructions issued forth, meant for very different ears from the new victim. The boy took a step backward, horrified.

â€�“Parselmouth!” he cried. â€�“You and Potter! You’re in it together! Parselmouths!”

A ghost with a partially severed head rounded the corner, and asked wearily, â€�“What’s going on here?”

Nearly Headless Nick and Justin Finch-Fletchley froze like statues at a flash of yellow from the corner nearby, and some part of Ginny, suddenly alert, screamed out in terror.

No!” she wept. â€�“I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know, I don’t remember!”

Ginny closed her eyes and put her head in her hands as she remembered her most recent nightmare. She still remembered weeping helplessly, hopelessly, and with terrible desperation as Riddle forced her to see the things she did, to remember his pleasure at others’ pain, at how powerful hurting and killing people made him feel. It made her feel physically ill, remembering the pleasure Riddle made her feel.

You never would do those things, she had told herself, over and over again, clinging to that thought throughout the years following her first year at school, repeating the thought like a mantra. By the time she was fifteen, Ginny had almost convinced herself of it.

The stars were unchanging, and the moon was out, almost in the same phase in which it had been that night, the month before, when she confided these nightmares to Harry. The comfort she felt at finally opening up to the one person would might understand had been enormous; but now, in a similar scene to that night, Ginny was alone, without anyone to listen.

The stars were unchanging, but Ginny didn’t go outside to look at them this time; it was too painful to behold.

She had no idea how long she sat there, forcing herself not to think of the Chamber, but it must have been several hours, because after a while she became vaguely aware of the sun rising. This had been her morning routine, her nightmares waking her in the very early hours of the morning, and every time, she would be unable to find sleep again, at least for a couple of hours. But her thoughts always were so bleak that she’d been unable to appreciate the sunrises she’d witnessed as a result.

That was how Molly found her some hours later, with her head in her arms, only half asleep and feeling too exhausted to move. When Ginny heard her mother enter the room, she expected Molly to immediately assign her another chore. To her surprise, Molly left her alone, and when Ginny finally raised her head, she realized that her mother, now cracking open eggs with her back turned, had left her daughter a cup of tea.

In spite of this motherly act of kindness, however, Molly didn’t say a word to Ginny, not then or even ten minutes later. Ginny sipped her tea slowly, watching her mother work, and after Molly finally served Ginny a couple of slices of toast, she immediately left the room. Ginny looked at the toast for a few minutes, and a sudden wave of heartache and loneliness swept over her. Perhaps it was her earlier reminder that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were no longer there for Ginny to talk to, to confide in, but suddenly Ginny realized that she hadn’t really spoken much to anyone for this past week, not since George visited the day after Harry’s birthday. Normally Ginny would perhaps write to Luna or Neville, but since the new security measures were placed on the Burrow, the Weasleys hadn’t used owls at all. Besides, Errol was getting too feeble and decrepit to serve as a post owl. Ginny couldn’t be sure, but she doubted that Errol would make it to Christmas.

She suddenly had an overwhelming desire to visit Luna; she’d have someone to talk to, and Luna somehow always managed to bring some cheer out of people when they were down. Unfortunately, Ginny wasn’t allowed to leave the Burrow either, not unescorted, anyway, and since her father and brothers were too busy, and most of the Order were still angry with her, she was stuck at the Burrow.

There was a loud knock on the front door, but when she heard her mother descend the stairs and enter the front room to answer it, Ginny remained at the table, still staring at her breakfast, but unable to touch it. She was vaguely aware of voices in the front room, though, and she immediately stiffened as she recognized Hestia Jones’s voice as well as Tonks’s.

The Order was another reason Ginny welcomed the chores Molly had assigned her. Every time one of them came to call, they would either ignore Ginny or act unusually short with her. She supposed it was only to be expected, but their coldness aggravated her. It was less the case with Remus and Tonks, but when they visited, both of them had been unable to meet Ginny’s eyes.

Not wanting to deal with Tonks and Hestia now, Ginny took her toast and quickly made her way out the kitchen, through the back room, and out the door. She then took a seat on the back porch and finally took a bite of the toast, which had gone cold. But with nothing better to do, Ginny choked down her breakfast, and then remained there, hoping that Tonks and Hestia would be gone by the time she went back in.

Then the door opened, and Ginny looked up to see Tonks looking at her with an unreadable expression, an unusual look for Nymphadora Tonks. After an awkward moment, Ginny carefully said, â€�“Morning, Tonks.”

Tonks rolled her eyes. â€�“There’s no need to greet me like an Auror on business and not as a friend. I come in peace.” Ginny stared as Tonks took a seat on the porch beside her. Tonks didn’t look at Ginny, but watched a gnome run from its hole to the dustbin by the shed to rummage through the garbage. Then Tonks hesitantly looked at Ginny. â€�“I admit that I don’t know if I’d have had the guts to say what you did at the meeting the other day.” She inhaled deeply. â€�“But I hope I would have.”

Relief swept over Ginny, easing her earlier loneliness, and she found herself smiling. Tonks returned the grin.

â€�“You’re perfectly right,” she continued. â€�“Now that we’ve lost Albus, we can’t continue pretending that nothing’s changed. What we must do is get back on track and work out how best to continue the fight without him.”

â€�“Is the Order going to make any changes in its approach, then?” asked Ginny curiously.

Tonks shook her head. â€�“I’m not sure,” she said. â€�“There’s been a lot of arguing since that night. But I speak for a third of the Order when I say that we should follow Albus’s last orders and move away from finding or protecting Harry and return to trying to stop the Death Eaters as we always have done.”

â€�“Would you still feel that way if Dumbledore hadn’t told Kingsley to let Harry go?” asked Ginny.

â€�“Honestly?” Tonks shrugged. â€�“I don’t know. But I was uncomfortable with how little the Order was getting done, even before Harry left.” She sighed. â€�“I suspect that a fair number of the Order, your mother in particular, are going to disregard Albus’s letter and still try to look for Harry.”

Ginny scowled.

â€�“I know,” Tonks shook her head exasperatedly. â€�“The problem doesn’t just lie in going off track, though. Having brought up seven children, for Molly, the word ‘safety’ has come to mean keeping her children in sight or at least close by at all times. Thus it is hard for her to understand that, in an odd sort of way, the Order would do more to protect Harry, in this particular case, by not looking for him. You see, Kingsley wants to try to hide Harry’s disappearance from the Ministry for as long as possible, but if the Order makes finding Harry a priority, we’ll only draw attention to the fact that he’s gone, and then Scrimgeour will find out sooner than desirable.”

â€�“And once the Ministry finds out, the Death Eaters find out,” Ginny stated. â€�“Well, Kingsley’s certainly no fool.”

â€�“You didn’t seem to think so when you shouted at us all at the meeting the other day,” Tonks said, grinning. â€�“But yes, you’ve hit the crux of the matter. The Death Eaters won’t go looking for Harry because they don’t know that he’s run off. If we openly look for him, the Death Eaters will find out, and then they will start hunting him.”

â€�“Ginny!” Molly called sharply from somewhere inside.

â€�“What’s she got you doing this time?” asked Tonks, grimacing sympathetically.

â€�“Who knows?” Ginny sighed. â€�“She can’t keep doing this, though.”

Tonks twisted around to look at the door. â€�“Aren’t you going to answer?”

â€�“Nah. I’d give it about five minutes before she starts looking for me.”

Tonks was silent for a moment. Then she asked, â€�“What’s your dad think of this?”

â€�“He doesn’t say much to me these days,” Ginny replied, trying to keep her expression neutral, but she felt another pang of loneliness. Her mother’s punishments were only to be expected, but Arther’s giving her the cold shoulder stung worse than Molly’s anger.

Tonks frowned, and to Ginny’s horror, she began looking at her closely, taking in her tired demeanor. Ginny looked away, not wanting her friend’s pity.

â€�“You know what you need?” Tonks finally asked.

â€�“A potion to give me some extra energy?”

â€�“Well, there is that,” Tonks conceded. â€�“I was going to say is that you need to get away from the Burrow, at least for a few hours. Take a break.”

Ginny snorted. â€�“Like you’ll get Mum to agree to that. Anyway, where do you want me to go?”

â€�“Up to you, of course,” Tonks answered. â€�“But why not your friend’s place? Luna Lovegood? What with the security measures going up around the Burrow, I doubt if you’ve been able to keep in touch with her much.”

â€�“Do you know Legilimency?” Ginny asked incredulously. â€�“Because I’ve been trying to think of ways to give Mum the slip, just for a short while, to visit Luna.”

â€�“Well, then,” Tonks said cheerfully, â€�“perhaps we can persuade Molly. She’s less likely to object if you’ve got an escort, which I’ll be happy to provide.”

Ginny felt a bit happier at the prospect of visiting Luna. â€�“You think you could talk to Mum? She’s worked me so hard lately that I dunno what else I can do to make the Burrow look tidier.”

â€�“Good point.” Tonks stood and looked up at the house thoughtfully. â€�“Your place has looked so clean lately that I think even Harry’s aunt might approve of it. I can’t think of a better way to mortify Molly than to be compared to Petunia Dursley. Might get her to lay off for a bit.”

For the first time that morning, Ginny laughed.

*********

After little success with her research, and not wanting to risk appearing in public for any reason, Hermione in her frustration borrowed Harry’s Invisibility Cloak and went into the passage leading from the Shrieking Shack to the Whomping Willow. Harry and Ron, who were asleep at the time, woke up to find their friend and the Cloak gone, but since Hermione occasionally went off to Hogsmeade under the Cloak to obtain discarded newspapers or to get food, they hadn’t thought much of it when they woke. They hardly had been awake for five minutes, however, when Hermione suddenly pulled the Cloak off in front of them, looking grumpy. This had startled Harry, who hadn’t heard the door open.

â€�“What’s up?” Harry asked, seeing her expression.

â€�“The passage to Hogwarts caved in at some point,” she informed him.

â€�“Why were you trying to get into Hogwarts?” Ron asked, confused.

â€�“I was trying to get into the library.” Hermione sunk onto the couch, clearly vexed. â€�“I’m not getting anywhere with my research. I’ve been trying to learn more about the Founders and their relics, but all my books only give information on particularly famous relics which are accounted for, and what special enchantments they’re reputed to have. But they give almost no other information.”

â€�“But you have found some possibilities?” Harry inquired, his interest piqued.

Hermione reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of notebook paper. Harry could see about a dozen items listed when she unfolded it. â€�“The only items on this list which still exist are Gryffindor’s sword and the Sorting Hat,” she told him. â€�“All the others were lost or destroyed hundreds of years ago.”

Harry’s heart sank. â€�“How did Voldemort get his last Horcrux then?”

â€�“No idea, but we still should learn details about all these items, including the circumstances behind their loss.”

â€�“Get into Hogwarts through the Honeydukes passage,” suggested Ron. â€�“Harry’s gotten through there loads of times.”

Hermione and Harry looked at each other, and Harry saw the half-exasperated, half-thoughtful look that had crossed her face a lot for the past week, and knew instantly what was coming.

â€�“That’s an awful risk,” Hermione began. â€�“If anyone suspects that we’re here, Ron, if anyone comes snooping, we’ll have to leave immediately, and--”

â€�“--and you still haven’t found a more secure place for us which the Order doesn’t already know about,” Ron finished for her, rolling his eyes. â€�“I know. You’ve only said that about a dozen times this week.”

â€�“There are other ways into Hogwarts from Hogsmeade,” Harry reminded them. â€�“If you want, Hermione, I can get out the Marauder’s Map and try to find a way in. Your other option, of course, is the Forbidden Forest.”

â€�“No,” Hermione and Ron snapped at the same time, and Harry smirked.

â€�“Well, I’ll have a think and get back to you on this,” he said, standing up and picking up the Cloak that Hermione had discarded. He then flung the cloak over his shoulders, and scooped up Hedwig before pulling the hood over his face.

â€�“Tell Hedwig to bring something else this time,” Ron grumbled. â€�“I’m sick of coneys.”

â€�“Tell her yourself,” Harry retorted as he opened the back door, and making certain he was completely invisible, he set out for the woods that lay on the outskirts of the village.

It was a rather cloudy morning, a sign that there probably would be a shower of rain later that day. The sooner Hedwig brought something back, the better, Harry thought dryly as he looked at the darkening sky. As Harry crossed the grass, he considered his situation, and suddenly thought longingly of the comfort of Hogwarts or of the Burrow, but the former had closed and the latter was dangerous to remain at now. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had checked the newspapers in Hogsmeade every day for any mention of their disappearance, but nothing had appeared as yet, which told them that if the Ministry knew that Harry had gone, they had kept it secret from the public. Hopefully the Ministry didn’t know at all, but knowing Voldemort, Harry thought it not improbable that the Death Eaters suspected something.

Harry worried about the repercussions of his escape. The Order could not keep this secret forever, and Harry wondered how many people in connection with him Voldemort would target now. It was all the more reason for them to get started as soon as possible, and to make finding and destroying Horcruxes their number one priority.

The woods were darker and quieter than normal, Harry thought as he entered, but undoubtedly the reason was the oncoming storm. Hedwig adjusted her position on his arm, and he made his way down the path that led to the mountains, preparing to send the owl on her task.

But he hadn’t gotten far before a stab of pain shot across his scar, and he winced, his free hand flying to his forehead to rub the lightning bolt. Harry stood rooted to the spot, still rubbing the mark, and Hedwig hooted tensely, but Harry barely noticed. This was the first time in over a year that his scar had hurt him. He knew that Voldemort had been practicing Occlumency against him, but as the dark collected over Britain, as the Death Eaters gained more power and inflicted more terror, as the battle everyone knew was coming drew closer, Harry wondered if Voldemort’s shields were somehow weakening.

But the sting Harry had just felt meant one thing: something was happening. He hadn’t felt any flashes either of anger or of happiness unconnected with his own emotions, but Voldemort, who had remained strangely quiet during the past year, was stirring.

Harry looked at the normally snowy owl on his arm, who was watching him warily. He had set out to obtain food, but now he wondered if he should return to the Shrieking Shack and inform Ron and Hermione about his scar. Before he could make a decision, however, he noticed that Hedwig suddenly went very still, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere to Harry’s right, as though she were listening to something.

â€�“Do you see something, girl?” Harry asked Hedwig in a low voice, but she didn’t make the smallest sound in reply. Harry looked through the Cloak in the direction his owl was staring, wondering if she was watching something that they could bring back to the Shrieking Shack. Then Harry saw something shift in the trees about thirty feet away, something much larger than a fox or a rabbit. He edged a bit closer, and then he saw a man move into view, a wizard in the unmistakable black robes and hood of a Death Eater.

The Death Eater’s back was to Harry, and he crouched low, looking through a gap in the trees toward the village below. As Harry watched, he thought he saw a second Death Eater approach the first, and crouch down next to him. Hedwig’s feathers had fluffed up, and she snapped her beak menacingly, but thankfully the Death Eaters were too far away to hear her. Harry reached into his pocket and slowly drew his wand, which he transferred to the hand Hedwig was perched on. He then reached back into the same pocket, fishing around until he found what he was looking for, and inserted one end of the Extendable Ear into his left ear, and then sent the other end in the direction of the two Death Eaters. He waited a moment, until:

â€�“Keep it quiet, Al! The Dark Lord will feed your guts to his snake if anyone realizes we’re here!”

â€�“Shut it. What’s the time?”

â€�“Quarter past ten. Where’s Dolohov? He and Nott should be here by now!”

â€�“Dolohov went to meet the Dementors. Don’t know where Nott is. Probably off to find out if the Dark Lord’s new allies will be involved in this.”

The other Death Eater audibly shuddered. â€�“Bloody Merlin, those Sha’etemmins give me the creeps! And that’s saying something, considering that I spent a good deal of my years in Azkaban with the Dementors. But the Dark Lord likes them.”

â€�“I dunno if the Dark Lord will send them to openly attack an all-wizarding settlement,” Al pointed out. â€�“He wouldn’t want the Ministry working it out too soon, and certainly not the I.C.W. Anyway, don’t forget to concentrate on the hit list. The Dementors will take care of any resistance from the other villagers.”

Harry heard enough. He pulled back the Extendable Ear and stuffed it into his pocket. Transferring his wand back into his free hand, Harry quietly backed up the path, and cast a nonverbal spell to clear any footprints he left as he quickly and silently made his way back to the Shrieking Shack.

â€�“You’re back early,” Hermione remarked as Harry lowered Hedwig back onto the table in the lounge.

â€�“Didn’t you find anything?” asked Ron, massaging his stomach.

Instead of answering, Harry opened up the black chest with a flick of his wand, and then carefully picked up the Pensieve and lowered it into the chest. He then pointed his wand at his notebook and other books and items on the table, and sent them into his rucksack.

â€�“What are you doing?” Hermione asked in consternation.

â€�“There’s a bunch of Death Eaters in the woods,” Harry told her. â€�“They’re going to attack the village. We’ve got to get out of Hogsmeade.”

********

â€�“So Harry’s gone off to fight Voldemort?” asked Luna serenely.

Ginny stared at her. â€�“How did you know that?”

â€�“Your dad may have mentioned him running off to my dad,” Luna replied. â€�“What else would Harry leave for? Anyway, you’re unusually quiet. I’m sure you’d rather be with him than at home now.”

Ginny said nothing. To her slight surprise, Tonks succeeded in persuading Molly to allow Ginny to visit Luna, and almost immediately she accompanied Ginny to the Lovegoods’ place, much to Ginny’s relief. Tonks now remained outside, keeping an eye out for trouble.

â€�“What are you planning to do over the next year, then, since we’re not going back to school?” Ginny asked, hoping to change the subject.

Luna shrugged. â€�“I’ll probably continue learning from the Sixth and Seventh Year textbooks on my own, and perhaps study other books. We could study together. I’d like that.”

â€�“Not a bad idea,” sighed Ginny. â€�“I need something to do for the next week, and I’m getting sick of these chores. It also would give me an excuse to get away for a while. I’m not exactly in the Order’s good books right now.”

â€�“Because you allowed Harry to escape from their protection?” Luna asked. â€�“Maybe they’ll eventually see that it was for the best.”

â€�“Do you think it was for the best?” asked Ginny curiously.

â€�“Don’t you?” Luna replied knowingly.

Ginny smiled, which was all the reply Luna needed. But then her smile faded, and she said, â€�“It doesn’t stop the Order from being angry with me. I’m not sorry for helping Harry leave, even if my help was minimal, but I’d hoped to join the Order when I turn seventeen. Though some, like Fred and George and Tonks, support Harry’s actions, the others are furious. I doubt if they’d let me join now.”

â€�“They’re angry with Harry and with Professor Dumbledore,” Luna said simply. Seeing Ginny’s expression, she added, â€�“It doesn’t take a great leap of the imagination to realize that Harry’s acting on Dumbledore’s instructions. But the fact that he kept some things secret from the Order offended them. They feel as though Dumbledore didn’t completely trust them. But since neither Harry nor Dumbledore are present, they’re taking their anger out on you.”

Ginny snorted. â€�“Thanks for the comfort, Luna.”

Ignoring her friend’s sarcasm, Luna beamed. â€�“You’re welcome.”

Ginny managed a soft giggle at this response. Then, after a moment, she asked, â€�“So you’re more confident that I’ll be able to join the Order?”

â€�“They can’t stay angry with you forever,” Luna calmly pointed out. â€�“They’ll eventually see sense and forgive you for the affront. But even if they don’t allow you to join, there are other options. The D.A. is an option.”

Ginny stared. â€�“The D.A.? But it was a student rebellion against Umbridge. Half of them are underage as well, and the D.A. hasn’t even met for more than a year.”

â€�“One year, four months, and two days to be exact,” Luna specified, to Ginny’s astonishment. â€�“And a student rebellion, perhaps, but one that was trained to fight Death Eaters. And don’t forget that in spite of their name, ‘Dumbledore’s Army,’ the D.A.’s loyalty lies with Harry more than it does with the Order. As for they’re being underage…” Luna shrugged. â€�“They won’t be within the next couple of years. â€�“Once they’re legal adults, you could always put together a second anti-Voldemort group, like the Order.”

â€�“That would be a good scheme, except that the Order knows a lot more about Voldemort and the Death Eaters than most former D.A. members, except Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and they’re out of the picture,” Ginny pointed out. â€�“Those three always seemed to know a lot more about what’s been going on than they ever saw fit to tell,” she added bitterly.

â€�“Fred and George are in the Order, so they know a lot,” Luna reminded her. â€�“They are former D.A. members, and they’re also loyal to Harry. I’m sure they’d be willing to help.”

Ginny didn’t respond. She had to admit, the idea of reviving the D.A. was very appealing, but on the other hand, Luna was right when she said that their loyalty was to Harry more than to anyone else. Without their leader, the D.A. probably wouldn’t be what it was before, nor would it come together as easily. But then again, discussing the D.A. reminded Ginny of the bag of contact Galleons Hermione had left behind, and not for the first time, Ginny wondered if reviving the D.A. was precisely what Hermione was suggesting.

Before Ginny could say anything to Luna, either for or against the idea, however, there was a loud bang outside, and the both jumped.

â€�“What was that?” Mr. Lovegood cried from another room, but instinctively Ginny and Luna drew their wands and headed for the window.

â€�“Ginny!” Luna warned, and Ginny ducked just as a Stunner smashed through the window, showering them with shards of glass. Swearing angrily, Ginny stood up again and carefully aimed her wand, shouting, â€�“Impedimenta!”

Outside, she saw the masked Death Eater stumble, and Luna cried, â€�“Stupefy!”, thus rendering him unconscious. But there was another crash, and they could see several more Death Eaters surrounding the house, but Ginny couldn’t see Tonks anywhere. Then a sudden wave of cold washed over Ginny.

â€�“They’ve got Dementors!” Luna cried unnecessarily, and Ginny could hear the unease in her voice. Immediately she thought over her happiest memories, and quickly settled on a quiet moment by the lake at Hogwarts, one that occurred only months before, in which she had settled contentedly in Harry Potter’s warm embrace…

â€�“Expecto Patronum!” Ginny cried, but she aimed her wand in the direction of the Burrow, not at the intruders. Her stallion Patronus erupted from her wand and galloped away. It would arrive at the Burrow within seconds, she knew, but hopefully that was time enough for assistance to arrive.

Mr. Lovegood was yelling from another room, and Ginny thought she could hear him screaming out incantations, though she couldn’t hear what. At that moment, Luna’s hare Patronus shot out the window toward the three Dementors Ginny could now see approaching the house.

There was a loud smash behind them, and Mr. Lovegood shrieked. Ginny turned around just in time to see Luna’s father fall through the kitchen door, blood leaking from his nose, and he landed in a crumpled pile in the doorway. He did not stir.

â€�“Vespae!” Ginny shouted, pointing her wand past Mr. Lovegood at the Death Eater whom she could just see at the kitchen window. The Death Eater howled in agony and dropped his wand, clutching his face which had turned scarlet and was swelling up. Ginny slashed her wand at him. â€�“Incarcerous!”

He fell from the window, bound tightly with ropes, just as Luna caught sight of her father and shrieked, â€�“Daddy!”

â€�“Expulso!” An unfamiliar voice yelled.

A tremendous bang crashed upon Ginny’s eardrums, followed immediately by some force that seemed to pick her up and throw her across the room and into the opposite wall like a ragdoll, and she fell to the floor next to Luna’s unmoving father. Her head had struck the doorframe, and Ginny felt as though her skull had split open.

Dazed, she opened her eyes to find herself seeing double, and she couldn’t see or hear Luna at all. Ginny tried to sit up, but doing so made her dizzy. Then she heard heavy footsteps approaching from the door, which, judging from the light flooding into the room, had been blasted open. Her left ear throbbed with every footstep, and her right ear, which felt as though someone had forced a drill through it, couldn’t seem to pick up sound at all.

â€�“You won’t be selling that rag of yours anymore, Lovegood,” Ginny heard the Death Eater growl with her functioning ear. A moment later, a shadow fell over her. â€�“And a Weasel blood traitor here as well! Two birds with one stone!”

Ginny reacted instinctively. Though she couldn’t see the Death Eater very clearly, she pointed her wand in his general direction and cried, â€�“Nakaroptera!”

At that moment, several things happened. The Death Eater staggered back, yelling, and Ginny, her wand arm falling back to floor, could barely see him waving his arms around, undoubtedly trying to beat back the enormous flying bogeys. At the same time, she heard her father’s voice shout, â€�“Incarcerous!” and then Lupin’s voice yelled, â€�“Stupefy!” Then another shape appeared in front of her, as large as the Death Eater, but this time she heard Charlie cry, â€�“Ginny! Ginny!”

She groaned, and tried to reply, but her head was still spinning, and she couldn’t lift it without feeling nauseous. She distantly heard someone say, â€�“Rennervate,” and heard Luna’s groan. Charlie had turned her over, and then she felt him scoop her up into his arms.

â€�“Just in time, bro,” she muttered.

Then she felt her head fall backwards as she slipped into unconsciousness.

********

She became conscious of the darkness first, and then of the ache in her right ear. Then she opened her eyes to find herself looking at a glass lamp hanging from the middle of the ceiling. She lifted a hand to feel her ear, which throbbed painfully.

â€�“You awake, Ginny?” someone asked from somewhere to her left. The sound was oddly muffled at one side of her head.

Ginny looked in that direction, and saw George and Percy sitting in a couple of kitchen chairs next to where she lay on the couch in the back room of the Burrow. It was still cloudy outside, but a glance at the clock told Ginny that it was about four in the afternoon. She must have been unconscious for hours.

â€�“Welcome back to the land of the conscious,” George said, grinning.

Ginny tried to sit up, but the effort made her feel ill, so she lay back down, her head pounding. Looking in her brothers’ direction, she asked, â€�“What happened?”

â€�“You had a cracked skull and a concussion,” Percy informed her. â€�“You might be a bit disoriented for a while. Mum and Madam Pomfrey had your skull fixed up in a cinch, but you were still unconscious for a while. They’re still working on your ear, though. It’s apparently harder to fix internal injuries, but they’re sure you’ll be all right.”

Ginny felt her ear again. She could hear Percy better with her left ear more in his direction.

â€�“Makes you thankful for magical medicine,” he added seriously, â€�“otherwise Madam Pomfrey thinks you’d be permanently deaf in your right ear.”

â€�“You and Luna did well at the Lovegoods, though,” George told her, and Ginny could hear the pride in his voice. â€�“Dementors gone, and two subdued Death Eaters, leaving only one to handle by the time the Order got there.”

At these words, Ginny remembered the events at the Lovegoods’ place, and she sat up again, prompting Percy to push her back into a reclining position. â€�“Where’s Luna?” she asked urgently. â€�“And Mr. Lovegood?”

â€�“Luna’s fine,” George answered. â€�“She’s off ‘communicating with the gnomes,’ so she’s in perfect shape. And Lovegood was really badly hurt, but Madam Pomfrey says he’ll recover.”

â€�“They’re going to be staying here for a bit,” Percy added. â€�“Their house was wrecked, and anyway, it’s not a good idea for them to go back there, now that the Death Eaters seem to have made them a target. The Order’s protections for Harry weren’t put up for nothing after all, it seems.”

At that moment, the kitchen door opened and Tonks entered the room. She looked ashamed when she saw Ginny watching her.

â€�“Sorry, Ginny,” she said quietly. â€�“I was on watch outside Lovegood’s house, but they jinxed me before I realized they were there.”

â€�“You’re all right,” Ginny said, smiling sympathetically. â€�“I don’t think any of s were expecting an attack on the Lovegoods. What happened to the Death Eaters?”

â€�“All three are at the Ministry, awaiting trial and imprisonment,” Tonks replied. â€�“Nice work, by the way.”

â€�“Thanks.” Ginny grinned. â€�“So what did they attack the Lovegoods for?”

â€�“Supposedly because of The Quibbler’s pro-Harry and Dumbledore leanings,” Percy explained.

Ginny then remembered the Death Eater’s words just before he tried to curse her. â€�“Now I remember. One of them said something about stopping Mr. Lovegood’s rag.”

â€�“Well, this will probably cause a bit of a stir,” George said thoughtfully. â€�“The Quibbler’s been a lot more popular lately, ever since they interviewed Harry while the Ministry was out saying he was a nutter.”

Percy shifted uncomfortably. Ginny’s ear throbbed painfully again, and she rubbed the skin around it, wincing. The awkward silence ended when something silvery shot into the room through the back door and materialized in the form of a jackal, which opened its mouth.

â€�“Hogsmeade is under attack,” the Patronus said in Bill’s voice. â€�“They’ve destroyed the Three Broomsticks and the Shrieking Shack, and there are Dementors swarming all over the village. The Aurors need reinforcements.”

Tonks drew her wand and without another word, she strode across the room and out the back door. George and Percy also drew their wands.

â€�“I’ll get Fred and Lee,” the former said.

â€�“I’m going too,” Percy told them. Turning to his sister, who was trying to sit up, he said sternly, â€�“Ginny, wait here, and don’t even think about it. You’re in no condition to even argue about going to Hogsmeade.”

********

Chapter Seven:
The Storm Begins

In a small town about fifty miles out of Cardiff, a raven fluttered onto the window sill of a café that protruded out from under a canopy, and fluffed up its feathers, giving it an odd owlish look, and it looked out over the old cobblestone street, which was wet and slippery from the rain. Due to the bad weather, the streets were rather empty and quiet, but the sound of the falling rain did not cover a loud pop down the street. The raven’s eyes moved in the direction of the sound, and three figures appeared nearby which weren’t there before. One of them had an owl on his shoulder.

â€�“Bloody hell,” Ron gasped, holding out a bleeding arm, at which Hermione discreetly pointed her wand, muttering healing spells. â€�“That was close! At least we made it out of there. That was lucky.”

â€�“That wasn’t luck,” Harry grumbled, watching Hermione proceed to heal a few burns on her hands. â€�“That was me.”

Her job done, Hermione stowed her wand in her pocket and looked around. â€�“Where are we, anyway?”

â€�“Godric’s Hollow,” Harry answered, his face stony. â€�“There’s a picture of this street in my parents’ photo album, so I knew what to concentrate on. First place I thought of.”

After Harry overheard the Death Eaters’ plans to attack Hogsmeade, he and the others had hurriedly packed their things and began work on covering any sign in the Shrieking Shack that they had ever been there. They had just finished when the attack started, and two stray curses smashed through Hermione’s remaining enchantments (the most powerful of which she had removed so they could Disapparate out), blasted one wall out, and set the place on fire. Harry didn’t think the Death Eaters had realized anyone was in the Shrieking Shack, so they hadn’t actually been attacked personally, but he grabbed Ron and Hermione and Disapparated just as the roof collapsed.

â€�“Looks like taking Hedwig out for hunting did us more good than harm in the end, though, didn’t it?” Ron said to Hermione with a grin as the three of them began walking hurriedly down the street.

The owl hooted in reply. She was still disguised as a fairly large tawny.

â€�“All right, first thing, let’s get out of the rain,” Harry said, drawing his hood up.

â€�“That looks good,” Hermione said, pointing at a café. Harry scrutinized it for a moment, before he nodded his approval and left Hedwig on a lamppost under a canopy outside as they entered.

The café was empty except for a plump, elderly woman at the cash register, who loked up from her newspaper as they took their seats by a table in a corner.

â€�“Hello, dearies,” she said as she bobbed to their table, beaming. â€�“What can I get for you today?”

â€�“I could use an espresso,” Hermione told her, glancing at a menu printed on some cheap copy paper that lay on the table. â€�“And a ham sandwich.”

The waitress looked at Harry and Ron.

â€�“Same,” they told her.

The waitress wrote down their orders, but as she stowed the notebook back into her pocket, she paused, and stared at Harry, frowning. Suddenly wary, Harry asked, â€�“Yes?”

â€�“Oh, sorry, lad,” she said, shaking her head. â€�“You just remind me of a bloke who used to live here. You look a hell of a lot like him. Actually, you could be his twin, except for your eyes.” She shrugged. â€�“But he died like fifteen years ago.”

Still frowning, the waitress then left their table and disappeared into the kitchen.

â€�“She must have met my dad,” Harry said, his eyebrows raised.

â€�“A lot of people around here might notice you because of that,” Hermione reasoned. â€�“It’s a small town. Why did you bring us here, anyway?”

â€�“Like I said, it was the first place I thought of,” Harry retorted. â€�“Anyway, I’ve been meaning to come here for months. You know that.”

Hermione didn’t reply, which Harry had half-expected, knowing that she had concerns about visiting Godric’s Hollow.

â€�“Where are we going to stay now?” she asked after a moment. â€�“We can’t go back to the Shrieking Shack, obviously.”

â€�“We’ll find some place,” Ron said reassuringly. â€�“Now that we’re away from the attack, we can slow down and think of something.”

â€�“I’d like to visit the cemetery,” Harry added. â€�“I’ll bet that waitress knows where it is.”

â€�“What did they attack Hogsmeade for, anyway?” Ron asked indignantly.

â€�“There’s a lot of anti-Death Eater sentiment there,” Hermione replied. â€�“Most of Hogsmeade’s prominent and respected persons, people like Madam Rosmerta and Aberforth Dumbledore, are openly against the Death Eaters and always have been. Anyway, the Death Eaters use terror as much as violence. Nothing like launching an assault on the only all-Wizard town in Britain.”

â€�“Blimey, I hope they’re both all right,” Ron groaned.

â€�“I think Aberforth will be,” Hermione said. â€�“He and his brother were at the helm of the Helvetican Paladins during the war against Grindelwald. He’s more than capable of defending himself.”

â€�“What are the Helvetican Paladins?” asked Harry curiously.

Hermione snorted. â€�“Didn’t you ever pay attention in History of Magic?”

â€�“No,” Harry and Ron replied in unison, grinning.

Hermione rolled her eyes. â€�“The Helvetican Paladins were a group of wizards organized by the Dumbledore family against the Triskelen. They were so named because they mostly were Swiss, with a few English helping; you see, Dumbledore’s family spent their summers at a family home in Switzerland, and Dumbledore had as many connections there as in Britain.” Hermione glanced at the kitchen door, and then looked back at Harry and Ron. â€�“What’s less commonly known is that after the Ministry declared a state of emergency in 1967 due to the Death Eater threat, Dumbledore reassembled the Helvetican Paladins at his family home here in Britain and they renamed themselves the Order of the Phoenix.”

â€�“So the Order actually goes clear back to Grindelwald?”

Hermione nodded. â€�“Because of the Paladins’ experience, they initially were able to seriously challenge the Death Eaters, but unfortunately, by then the original members were getting on in years, and none of them were any match for Voldemort himself. Most of them were killed off eventually. I believe that Elphias Doge and Aberforth are the only members of the current Order who were in the original anti-Grindelwald group. But the point is, Aberforth more experience than most of the Aurors in fighting Dark Wizards.”

â€�“Don’t get too complacent,” Ron warned. â€�“I’ve heard that Aberforth’s gone a bit around the bend in his old age. Fred and George say that he keeps a Muggle goon under the counter at the Hogs’ Head.”

Harry sniggered, and an exasperated and amused Hermione corrected, â€�“A gun, Ron.”

â€�“God, that feels good,” Harry told Hermione, still laughing. â€�“Normally it’s me that’s completely confused about the world around me, since I wasn’t raised in the Wizarding World.” Looking at Ron, he added, â€�“Tables are turned, mate.”

Now Hermione was smirking as well. Ron’s ears went pink.

â€�“Whatever,” Ron muttered, annoyed. â€�“But still, why does Aberforth keep a gun? Not like it’s going to be of any help against Death Eaters or even in a wizard bar fight. It’s a Muggle weapon, isn’t it?”

At this, Harry and Hermione both frowned.

â€�“You know, that’s a good question,” Harry said to Hermione. â€�“Unless a wizard got a shield up before you pressed the trigger, a gun would be just as lethal to him as it would be to any Muggle. Would guns be any good in a fight?”

â€�“Don’t know,” Hermione said contemplatively. â€�“I can’t think of any instances where anyone’s tried using guns in a wizard’s battle. I doubt it would even occur to most wizards. But it’s like you said, if you pulled the trigger before the wizard finished any protective or offensive incantations, he’d be down. Maybe Muggle weapons are more effective than wizards give them credit for. Having fought in Germany during the 1940s, Aberforth may have realized that.”

At that moment, the kitchen door opened, and the waitress returned with a cart, wheeling out three ham sandwiches on plates, and three cups of coffee.

â€�“Here you are,” she said, passing them to each recipient. â€�“Enjoy the meal.”

â€�“Thanks,” Harry said. â€�“Do you know where the cemetery is?”

The waitress nodded. â€�“It’s just on the edge of town. Keep going west down the street outside. It’s by an old church. Can’t miss it.”

Harry nodded. â€�“Thanks again.”

As the waitress disappeared into the kitchen again, Ron suddenly asked, â€�“Have we got any Muggle money?”

Hermione pulled a wallet from her pocket. â€�“I always carry some with me these days, and anyway, Mum and Dad gave me a debit card before they left. Should last us a while.”

â€�“A what?”

Hermione ignored Ron and opened her coin purse. A few coins fell out onto the table.

â€�“We could try hiding out at a Muggle inn somewhere for a day or two,” Ron suggested as he swallowed a bite of his sandwich. â€�“It wouldn’t be too difficult to Confund the innkeeper and then make the room undetectable in some way.”

Hermione thought this over for a moment. â€�“Well, I suppose that’s no worse than the Shrieking Shack was,” she admitted. â€�“But again, that can only be temporary.”

As they finished their meals, the waitress bustled to their table again, and handed them a check. â€�“Ten quid, dearie,” she said cheerfully.

Hermione gave her a handful of coins, and within a minute they left the café. It had stopped raining, but Harry kept his hood up. He looked at Hedwig and nodded, before making his way down the street, keeping his eyes on the pavement and looking at no one. A glance backwards told him that Hedwig was slowly following them.

â€�“Keep your wands at the ready, just in case,” he advised Ron and Hermione, as he quickly stowed his own up his sleeve.

Eventually they passed through a group of half-timbered houses, and Harry began looking around, searching either for the wrecked house where his parents might have lived, or for the church the waitress had told him to look for.

Then it slowly loomed into view, a little church built just on the edge of the village. As they passed by, Harry saw a vicar accompany an elderly couple out of the church and into the churchyard they now could see stretching out past the old stone building. The three of them looked at each other for a moment, and then followed the three strangers into the graveyard.

The cemetery wasn’t enormous, but it was large enough for Ron to grumble that it would take ages to find the Potters’ graves. Hermione shot him a glare, but Harry didn’t really hear Ron. He felt as though by entering this graveyard, he had just stepped over a threshold from which there was no return, as though by going to see his parents’ graves, he was taking another step towards facing the monster that had murdered them. A sudden wave of fear, not of the grave itself, but of where he now stood in the world, washed over him.

Not wanting to risk exposure by spending the afternoon searching for the right headstone, Hermione led them over to where the vicar stood with the elderly couple over a small headstone in the center of the graveyard.

â€�“Excuse me, sir,” she started.

The vicar looked up. â€�“Good afternoon,” he said, smiling at her, before turning to greet the others. He similarly greeted Ron, but when his eyes fell on Harry, he raised his eyebrows a little. He then turned to look at the couple behind him; the woman had knelt by the grave of a long-dead infant daughter and laid a rose on it.

â€�“If you need anything else, Mrs. Ferrin, you know where to find me.”

The Ferrins thanked him, and the vicar then drew Harry, Ron, and Hermione away from the couple until they were out of earshot.

â€�“I thought you would come here sooner or later, Harry,” he said quietly. â€�“You look just like your father.”

Harry nodded. â€�“I’ve been told. You knew him, then?”

The vicar nodded. â€�“Yes, I knew Lily and James quite well.”

â€�“These are my friends, Ron and Hermione,” Harry told him, gesturing at them.

â€�“Thomas Hughes,” the vicar introduced himself. â€�“You three are here to visit them, then?”

Harry nodded.

â€�“Follow me.” Mr. Hughes gestured at an area of the graveyard to their left, near a grove of trees. â€�“I’ve had to guide many of your parents’ friends to visit this grave, both wizard and Muggle.”

Harry stared at thim. â€�“You know about…”

Hughes chuckled. â€�“Of course I do,” he said. â€�“I too went to Hogwarts, Harry.”

â€�“Why do you work here then?” asked Ron, surprised.

â€�“Because serving others and God was all I ever wished to do,” the clergyman explained. â€�“My mother was Muggle-born and a devout believer. She raised me as such.” His smile widened. â€�“Your parents, your father especially, found the idea of a pastor who knows witchcraft rather amusing. I know a fair few people who would find the idea blasphemous.”

Harry and Hermione smiled at this small piece of humor, but Ron still looked dumbfounded. Without waiting for a response, Hughes continued down the row of graves, and they followed, until he stopped.

â€�“They are next to that grove,” he told Harry.

Thank you,” Harry said, stretching his hand out. The vicar shook it, smiling.

â€�“It was a pleasure to see you again,” Mr. Hughes told him. â€�“I haven’t seen you since you were fourteen months old. You had your mother’s eyes, even then.” As Harry stepped forward toward the grave, he added, â€�“I’ve prayed for you every day since your parents died, Harry. I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again, but I know that you can overcome this.”

Harry’s heart sank as he again thought of his parents and the future that lay ahead, but he nodded. â€�“Thanks again.”

The vicar turned and began walking back towards the church. Harry watched him go for a minute, before turning and continuing toward the cluster of graves near the grove he had indicated.

â€�“That was surprising,” Hermione remarked, â€�“but a relief at the same time. I didn’t want to Obliviate him.”

Harry wasn’t paying attention. He had caught sight of a single marble tombstone in the corner of the fence separating the graveyard from the trees, and when he got near enough to read the writing, he stopped.

James Potter
19 January 1960 - 31 October 1981

Lily Potter
08 November 1959 - 31 October 1981

Harry felt a lump lodge itself in his throat as he read his parents’ names over and over again, and this time he did nothing to swallow that lump. Hermione and Ron hung behind him, allowing him a bit of time, while Harry thought of two of the most important people in his life, important but no longer living.

But Harry wasn’t able to dwell on his parents for more than a minute, before he heard a footstep to his right. He looked up sharply, staring at the area for a minute, before he saw a movement that seemed oddly out of place, the movement of something he couldn’t quite see, the movement of a man Disillusioned.

â€�“Down!” Harry cried, just as two voices shouted â€�“Stupefy!”

Harry ducked just barely in time. The beams of red light shot over him, singeing his hair, and as Harry stood again, his wand out, the two masked Death Eaters appeared, their wands raised.

Fury overcame Harry like no anger he’d ever felt before, the thought that the followers of his parents’ murderer had been standing watch over their grave, waiting to destroy their son right where they were buried. Without thinking, Harry shot a Blasting Hex at one of them, just as Ron and Hermione moved into combat too. The Death Eater dodged Harry’s spell and flung another Stunner at him.

A moment later found Harry and Ron battling one Death Eater, and Hermione battling another. The combination of the three teenagers’ skills, and the two Death Eaters’ ferocity made them fairly evenly matched at first, until Harry and Ron slowed their opponent with a Jelly-Legs Jinx, and they began to gain the upper hand.

A gasp nearby caused Harry to glance in Hermione’s direction, and he saw that her wand had been hit with a Cutting Curse, making it difficult for her to aim her wand.

â€�“Expelliarmus!” Harry shouted, aiming his wand at Hermione’s opponent. Taken by surprise, the Death Eater stumbled, and his wand flew out of his hand.

But before anybody could make any further moves, a wave of cold washed over Harry, and then the fence by the grove of trees seemed to melt away into nothingness as a third wizard appeared on the scene, also in black robes, like the Death Eaters, but with his hood completely drawn over his face. There were silver chains and insignias attached to his robes, and the wizard wore an iron girdle, which had a black eye on the buckle, an eye which had a five-pointed star carved into its iris instead of a pupil.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all raised their wands, but the wizard didn’t appear to have any wand. He strode forward until he was right before them, behind Lily and James’s grave, and placed his foot on the tombstone. He then raised his left hand, and used his right to tug his sleeve upwards. Harry expected to see a Dark Mark on his forearm, but to his surprise, the man had tattooed two chains on his wrist and forearm, the lower chain with a black padlock over the back of his hand. Between the two chains was the same eye that was carved onto his girdle.

Harry had never encountered anything like this before, and thus was completely unprepared for what followed. Suddenly, in some corner of his mind, he thought he could see a pair of eyes staring at him accusingly; then he saw a dark cavern, where Albus Dumbledore lay on an island, and Harry watched as he himself poisoned Dumbledore. Then he saw Ginny lying close to death in the Chamber of Secrets, and heard Tom Riddle’s cruel laughter. The vision shifted, and he saw Sirius fall through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. All of Harry’s worst memories flashed before his eyes, as though he were facing a Dementor, but something was different; this time, the dream Dumbledore, the dream Ginny, the dream Sirius, everyone he loved who had suffered or died, all looked at him, and the accusation was clear.

â€�“It’s your fault!”

A sudden onslaught of paralyzing fear cascaded over Harry, fear he couldn’t control, terror so sudden and so crippling that he couldn’t even think, let alone ask himself why he was so scared. It was an aura so dark that even the gray clouds above them turned black, and a shadow seemed to seep into their very souls, originating from that mark on the wizard’s forearm. The man waved his fingers over the eye, and began changing in a deep and penetrating yet soft voice, over and over again: â€�“Erigmus corpus patris, erigmus magicum patris, erigmus corpus matris, erigmus magicum matris…”

As the sorcerer chanted, the padlock tattooed on his hand moved, opening, and the chains seemed to unravel, while the pentagram visible in the eye between the chains darkened so that there appeared to be a hole or a whirlpool in his forearm. Then the five-point star turned a fiery red, and from its points spread fiery tendrils that ate their way up the sorcerer’s arm in a strange, swirling pattern. The ground beneath their feet began to tremble. In less than two seconds, the burning lines seemed to cover the sorcerer’s whole body, and as they reached his right hand, he raised both into the air.

Then he threw his head back, his hood falling to reveal a pale face with white, blank eyes, and he shrieked, â€�“SURGATIS CORPORA! SURGATIS INFERA!”

There was a roar, and a whirlwind came to life around them. Then the tombstone cracked right down the middle, between the names of Harry’s mother and father, and continued along the ground where they lay. Then a black cloud seemed to cascade from that rift, before some force blasted the soil up into the air, raining down upon Harry and his friends. Then the unnatural wave of terror seemed to ebb away, and Harry, suddenly feeling capable of doing so, raised his wand, bracing himself for whatever followed.

When the dust cleared away, he clearly saw the sorcerer standing unmoving on the grave, and beside him were…

It was like the best dream and the worst nightmare at the same time. Harry’s heart pounded, because it couldn’t be true. It simply couldn’t be, and yet there they stood, their faces calm, serene, and undecayed, as though the years under earth had somehow preserved them, though they were both chalk white. On the one side, Harry’s eyes fell upon a pair of green eyes exactly like his, and a long main of dark red hair, and on the other side, untidy black hair and glasses, like looking into a mirror, except for the hazel eyes. Both of them were holding wands, which had been buried with them. Stunned, amazed, and overcome at seeing the faces that had hovered on his dreams and had smiled at him in the Mirror of Erised, Harry’s wand hand quivered, and he started to lower it.

â€�“HARRY!” Hermione’s voice shrieked from what seemed like miles away, muffled and oddly distorted. â€�“HARRY, LISTEN TO ME! THEY’RE NOT YOUR PARENTS!”

But there was a crack, which Harry barely noticed, cutting Hermione off as one of the Death Eaters ran at her, engaging her into battle again. The woman standing beside the fiery, tattooed wizard looked at Harry with an odd, scrutinizing expression, and then she raised her wand.

The trance was broken, and Harry raised his wand again, but then Lily Potter’s voice serenely said, â€�“Crucio.”

The onslaught of terror was replaced with an onslaught of agony. Harry bit down on his tongue hard, tasting blood, as fire seemed to run through his veins and his bones, tearing at each and every cell in his body. His muscles seized up, and when the white-hot fire gained intensity, Harry opened his mouth and screamed into the darkened sky.

He felt nothing except the pain, and saw nothing except the red mist that seemed to rise up around him, and he heard nothing except for his own piercing cries. Somewhere in the midst of that pain, he felt a cold hand close around his burning throat, and squeezing hard, so that he couldn’t even scream anymore. Acid seemed to bubble in his lungs and throat, burning him, trying to break through his closed trachea, as the Cruciatus Curse strengthened in intensity. A poisonous fog seemed to cloud Harry’s mind, until all he knew was the blackness…

And then, just as suddenly, the pain stopped and the hand released Harry, and he took a gasping breath, and opened his eyes to a blurred image in front of him. Harry could just see the glint of a metal blade swinging back and forth, thrusting at the barely-visible forms of Lily and James Potter.

********

Ron was aware that even as he stepped forward and back, firing spells at the taller Death Eater as hard and fast as he had ever fought, the Inferi animated by the dark wizard standing on the Potters’ tombstone tortured his best friend. Ron had to force himself to look at his opponent and not at the dead bodies of the Wizarding World’s most famous couple as they savagely attacked their only son. But he could hear Harry’s agonized screams, and a terror fell upon Ron like he never knew, a horror as he realized that if he and Hermione didn’t stop their two opponents quickly, there was absolutely nothing they could do to save Harry.

It had to be a dream, he thought wildly as he dodged a hex which blasted apart another tombstone. It just had to be, because he could not understand how such unspeakable terror and cruelty could exist on the face of the earth. Harry’s screams had stopped suddenly, and Ron, in mid-dodge, looked at his friend for just long enough to see the corpse of James Potter with its hand around Harry’s throat, strangling him, while his mother’s body held him under the Cruciatus Curse. Harry was convulsing violently, and his face, contorted in agony, was slowly turning blue.

â€�“HARRY!” Ron screamed helplessly, but he couldn’t take a single step forward before the Death Eater shouted, â€�“Confringo!”

Ron leaped out of the way barely in time before another tombstone exploded with the force of a bomb. He managed to keep on his feet, touched only by clods of dirt and specks of marble dust that rained upon him, and he whirled around, his wand raised, prepared to retaliate.

Before Ron could get the incantation out of his mouth, however, the Death Eater suddenly jerked forward, dropping his wand. He then raised his hand to the back of his neck, and then, before he could react, he stumbled forward and fell to his knees, a dart visibly protruding from the back of his neck.

Without another thought, Ron turned around to run to Harry’s rescue, but the first thing he saw was Harry slumped against another headstone, his face draining of color, but the two Inferi had leapt back as a short man wearing steel armor ran at them with a scimitar in hand.

Hermione then ran forward towards Harry, and Ron looked back to see that her Death Eater had fallen unconscious. Ron stared from the armored man forcing back the two corpses, to the subdued Death Eaters, and then he looked past them to see three more armored figures standing nearby, lowering what looked like brass bike pumps. The one that had taken out Ron’s opponent dropped his instrument and too ran forward. But then the two bodies dropped like puppets whose strings had been cut, and the sorcerer who had summoned them vanished in a whirlwind of black smoke.

â€�“Oh my God,” Ron heard Hermione moan over and over again, and he ran to her side, to see her feeling for Harry’s pulse.

Then she suddenly bent forward, and to Ron’s shock, opened up Harry’s mouth and lowered her mouth to his. Before Ron could say anything, hover, Hermione then jumped back and pressed both hands over his heart, thrusting his sternum inwards, over and over, counting as she did: â€�“One, two, three, four, five…”

She then returned to his mouth for a second time, and then repeated pushing on his chest.

â€�“One, two, three, four, five…”

â€�“Hermione!” Ron exclaimed, â€�“what…”

A hand rested on Ron’s shoulder, and he turned to see one of them men in armor next to him. â€�“Keep back, Mr. Weasley,” a low voice said quietly. â€�“It’s called CPR.”

â€�“Sorry?”

â€�“It’s a Muggle technique for restarting the heart,” their rescuer informed him. He then stepped back, and pulled his helmet off. Ron started, because their savior wasn’t a man.

â€�“Dr. Benedict Grobschmied,” the goblin introduced himself, holding out his hand, which Ron dazedly shook. â€�“And that must be Miss Hermione Granger.”

Ron didn’t reply.

â€�“So,” one of the other goblins said, bending down over the unconscious Death Eaters and removing his own helmet to examine them more closely. â€�“What do we do with these two?”

â€�“Up to you, Menger,” Grobschmied replied. â€�“Personally, I think there’s a lot to be said for feeding them to one of the dragons at Gringotts. But I think killing them would draw a lot of unwanted attention too soon, so it’s probably best if we tie them up and leave them somewhere where the Aurors will find them.”

Menger tilted his head, considering Grobschmied’s words, before he shrugged and stooped down to remove the dart from the first Death Eater’s neck. He then stepped to the second and likewise removed an identical dart from his side. Menger then looked at the fourth member of Grobschmied’s party, also wearing steel armor, but who was much shorter than the others, too short to be a goblin.

â€�“You heard Dr. Grobschmied,” Menger told the elf. â€�“Think you could inconspicuously get these two louts to the Ministry?”

â€�“Consider it done,” the elf told Menger grimly. He then seized one of the Death Eaters by the shoulder and Disapparated.

Ron was too stunned to react to any of this, but he didn’t need to. At that moment, Hermione emitted a cry of relief, and Ron turned around to see that Harry had started breathing again, but he remained unconscious. The unidentified goblin who had driven back the Inferi stepped forward and bent over Harry, examining him closely.

â€�“We need to get him to the Drôn Khalghil infirmary,” he concluded.

Grobschmied nodded grimly. â€�“Do so.”

Without another word, the other goblin stooped down and took hold of Harry’s wrist. A moment later, there was a flash of green light, and both goblin and Harry vanished.

Ron rounded on Grobschmied, â€�“Where’d you take him?” he demanded.

Grobschmied looked completely unfazed by this angry outburst. â€�“Exactly where Rok said he’d take him, and where we’re now going to take you,” he said sternly. â€�“Mr. Potter needs a bed, restorative potions, and the care of more than one Healer.”

Ron, unable to counter this, didn’t respond. In the moment that followed, he saw a raven flutter down from one of the trees, and land on Grobschmied’s shoulder. The goblin looked at it, and then turned back to Ron.

â€�“You are very lucky that Hugin caught sight of you three,” Grobschmied said. â€�“If we had arrived any later, all three of you probably would be dead now.”

Hermione stood up. She surveyed Grobschmied and Menger, and then smiled weakly. â€�“Thank you,” she whispered.

Grobschmied gave Hermione a short, polite bow, and then turned to his companion. â€�“We’d better get out of here, Menger, before the Aurors or more Death Eaters arrive.”

Menger nodded, and reached into a small burlap bag hanging from his belt. He then held his hand out to Hermione.

â€�“If you would, Miss Granger,” Menger offered. â€�“I’ve got a Beacon Key… a Portkey, as wizards might call it.”

Grobschmied made a similar gesture to Ron, but Ron narrowed his eyes at the elderly goblin suspiciously. He had been taught his whole life to be wary of goblins, because of their own distrust of wizards. But on the other hand, Bill had always been respectful towards goblins, and since these three had just saved Harry’s life, Ron couldn’t decide what to make of this.

Grobschmied raised his eyebrows. â€�“If we were in league with Voldemort, we wouldn’t have stopped the Inferi from killing Harry.”

â€�“But what… how…” Hermione stammered.

â€�“We’ll explain when we get to safety,” Menger interjected. â€�“I’m sure Mr. Potter will need you two by his side when he regains consciousness.”

He had a point, Ron realized, as he thought of the state Harry would be in when he woke up. An image of Ron’s own parents as Inferi floated to the front of his imagination, and he shivered. Then with a nod, Ron reached forward and grasped Grobschmied’s hand.

The goblin Portkey did not give the sensation of a hook jerking his naval, as a wizard’s Portkey did; instead, Ron felt the pleasant sensation of flight, like speeding through the air on a broomstick.

********

Ginny drifted in and out of sleep as her concussion, with some assistance from Madam Pomfrey’s concoctions, slowly healed, but in her waking moments, she heard nothing from the battle at Hogsmeade, and wondered if it was still raging, how serious it was, and if her brothers were all right. Occasionally Molly woke Ginny up herself to check the progress of the restorative potions; when she last did this, the first thing Ginny asked was, â€�“What’s happening?”

Molly made no reply, and instead gently propped her daughter into a sitting position. She then handed Ginny another draught, which Ginny accepted, but didn’t drink.

â€�“Mum,” she pled. â€�“Everyone’s gone off to Hogsmeade to fight. I need to know what’s going on.”

â€�“I’m not hiding anything from you,” Molly finally told her. â€�“I just don’t know what’s going on myself. We had Lupin’s Patronus here about an hour ago asking for Poppy’s assistance, but since then, nothing.”

Ginny slowly drank the draught and grimaced at its bitter taste. Molly said nothing else, and left the room for the kitchen, leaving her daughter to finish her medicine. Ginny looked back at the brown fluid sourly, feeling sick just at the thought of swallowing more of it; but she couldn’t fall asleep again. Instead, she sat there, waiting for what seemed like hours, until the back door opened and Fred and Charlie came in, both looking disheveled. Fred was covered with blood, and Charlie’s clothes were burnt.

Molly, hearing them enter, shrieked. â€�“Are you all right?” she cried. â€�“Is it over? Where are the others?”

â€�“One at a time, Mum,” Charlie muttered, sinking into a chair with a groan. â€�“Yes, it’s over. Yes, we’re all right. We’ll be right as rain by morning. As for the others, they’re all over the country, helping the Aurors. It’s a disaster.”

â€�“All over the country?” Ginny repeated, suddenly even more uneasy. â€�“What the hell happened?”

Her brother sighed. â€�“The Lovegoods and Hogsmeade weren’t the only places to be attacked today. Since this morning, there have been about a dozen other villages and households. Though the targets seem to have been mostly Muggle-borns, the Death Eaters attacked their neighbors as well. About eighty people are dead, from what I’ve heard, most of them Muggles, but we lost quite a few witches and wizards as well.”

â€�“Alicia Spinnet managed to hold off the Death Eaters until the Aurors got there,” Fred told Ginny and Molly, but his voice had taken a somber note identical to Charlie’s. â€�“But they got her older brother. Justin Finch-Fletchley’s entire family was murdered. So were the Cootes.”

Ginny’s heart sank. Ritchie Coote was one of the Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and was one of her classmates.

â€�“Angelina Johnson was also attacked, but she was able to take out the Death Eaters before help arrived,” Fred added, and the faintest note of admiration entered his voice. â€�“But they also wrecked Dean Thomas’s house. Luckily, his family was one of the first we got out of the country.”

Ginny exhaled at this. However badly her relationship with Dean had gone, she was glad he was all right.

â€�“Lupin said that they also attacked Little Whinging,” Charlie said. â€�“They razed the Dursleys’ house completely, and killed half their neighbors. Arabella Figg got out all right, but most of Privet Drive was destroyed. I suppose somebody got a bit frustrated when they found that Harry’s relatives don’t live there anymore.”

â€�“There probably will be more attacks before the week is out,” George muttered, looking exhausted.

â€�“And Hogsmeade?” Molly asked, her voice tense. â€�“You haven’t said anything about what happened there.”

â€�“Eleven of the inhabitants are dead, and twenty were sent to St. Mungo’s,” Charlie told her. â€�“Some of them aren’t likely to survive the night. The attack on Hogsmeade was vicious. No idea how many Death Eaters there were, but there were hundreds of Dementors. About a dozen people have been Kissed.”

Though Charlie tried to keep his expression neutral, something in his voice boded ill. Ginny hadn’t missed it and knew, as soon as Molly spoke, that she hadn’t missed it either.

â€�“Who was it?” she asked, her voice quivering. â€�“We lost someone in the Order, didn’t we?”

Charlie nodded, looking away. â€�“It was Mad-Eye.”

Ginny gasped. â€�“Mad-Eye’s dead?”

â€�“No,” George whispered with a pained expression. â€�“He was fighting Dolohov, and got hurt. Aberforth stepped in and beat Dolohov back, but while he was distracted, a Dementor got Mad-Eye.”

â€�“Oh God,” Ginny whispered, horrified.

â€�“That enraged the Aurors,” Charlie told them. â€�“Most of them remember and respect Mad-Eye, and they became just as ferocious as the Death Eaters. That’s when we gained the upper hand. At least Azkaban has a few new prisoners now. But Hogsmeade was wrecked. Many of the villagers’ homes were destroyed. And we lost Madam Rosmerta.”

Ginny closed her eyes, and tried to quell the fury that rose up inside her. Stunned at what she was hearing, she demanded, â€�“What the hell prompted this? It’s been months since Dumbledore’s death, but Voldemort’s been fairly quiet for the last few months. Why have they waited so long to do anything?”

Molly flinched at Ginny’s use of Voldemort’s name, and Charlie exchanged a look with Fred, before answering, â€�“We think it’s because Harry’s come of age. In Voldemort’s eyes, that makes him even more of a threat than ever. We’re not sure if he’s aware that Harry’s run away, but these attacks being so soon after his birthday can’t be a coincidence. A lot of the victims today have some connection to Harry: fellow students, Quidditch teammates, roommates, or former members of the DA… Voldemort probably is trying to goad Harry out of hiding by attacking friends and acquaintances.”

â€�“Then maybe it’s for the best that Harry’s run off,” Fred remarked. â€�“If Harry had been here today and had heard about these attacks, he probably would have been the first to go off and fight the Death Eaters, which undoubtedly was exactly what Voldemort wanted.”

Ginny saw Molly’s face turn pink, and knew instantly that her mother was still angry about what she called Harry’s â€�“crusade.” But Ginny said nothing. Given the tension between her and Molly and the rest of the Order for the past few days, it probably was best if she didn’t speak up. Still, she worried about Harry’s reaction when he heard about the killings. He wouldn’t take it well.

*******