"An attack?" Ginny sounded panicked, her voice going shrill, causing Harry's head to pound even harder. "But… but… Dad didn't want us to come home. He knew..."

She buried her face in her hands. Harry reached for her and cradled her against his shoulder. "If something else happens…" she quavered against his chest. Then she began to cry in earnest.

Harry ignored the burning on his forehead and put both arms around her, holding her as tightly as he could. It wasn't fair. Her family had just faced a terrible loss. How could they possibly face another so soon?

He waited until her tears had subsided. "Gin, we don't know that it's your family," he said softly.

"But Dad…"

"Sometimes when this happens, I can see… images of Voldemort."

"Could you tell what was happening this time?"

Damn. Maybe he shouldn't have brought this up. "No."

"So it could have been at home."

"Or not. We just don't know."

Harry sincerely hoped Ginny was wrong. Beyond having to go through more grief, which was bad enough, Harry remembered Ginny's reaction to Charlie's death. If she lost another family member, he was certain she would start feeling guilty again for not doing more. He could feel her growing tenser and tenser in his embrace, and he was sure she was thinking that she should have made more protective talismans for her brothers.

"What if it was the Ministry this time? They managed to attack Diagon Alley last summer, and Dad said it was only a test…"

"Ginny, look. It's still dark out. If they attacked the Ministry now, there wouldn't be anyone there."

"It's at home then… Mum…"

"We don't know that yet."

"If someone else… dies… I won't be able to stand it."

"I won't either."

He continued to hold her, rocking her slightly, hoping it would soothe her. He knew more deaths were coming, and whether or not they directly affected the Weasley family, each one would be difficult for him to bear.

He waited until she felt more relaxed against him and paused to kiss her brow before moving to get out of bed.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked.

"To get Dumbledore. He's going to want to know about this."

"It's the middle of the night."

Harry paused as he reached for his trousers and glanced towards the window. He remembered that it faced east from the last time he'd slept here. Now he could see that the sky outside wasn't completely black. "Actually, I think it's quite early in the morning. In any case, Dumbledore is going to want to know about this as soon as possible."

He pulled his clothes on and reached for his glasses. Ginny swung her legs over the side of her bed and grabbed her dressing gown.

"Don't you think you'd better stay here?" Harry asked. "It's going to look funny if you come with me."

"But I want to know what's happening." It was too dark to see her face, but she sounded disappointed.

"I'll come back and tell you everything. You might as well go back to sleep."

"I couldn't sleep now. I'll get dressed and wait for you in the common room."

"No rush. I don't know how long I'll be."

The pain in his scar seemed to be subsiding now; at least it didn't hurt quite as much as it had earlier. Harry made his way down the stairs towards the common room, wondering how he was going to find where Dumbledore slept. Harry didn't imagine the old headmaster slept in his office, after all. Harry would have to get the Marauder's Map. Perhaps it would show him Dumbledore's location.

He stepped into the common room, without even looking up, heading directly towards the boys' staircase, when a voice made him jump.

"Ah, there you are, Harry!"

"P-Professor Dumbledore. I… I was just coming to see you."

"I've saved you the trouble of finding my sleeping quarters."

Harry swallowed. Dumbledore had to have noticed that he'd come down the girls' staircase. Dumbledore, however, had turned towards the fireplace. "Incendio!" The hearth leapt into flame, suffusing the common room with an orange glow. Dumbledore turned back to Harry. "Come, sit down. I don't imagine the others will be very long."

Harry did as he was told. Sure enough, Ginny came down not long afterwards, having put on a worn pair of jeans and a jumper. Harry heard her gasp as she entered the room, surprised to find the headmaster there. Ron and Hermione followed closely on her heels, both of the looking pale and puffy-eyed, but they, too, had taken the time to throw some clothes on.

"I woke up Ron and Hermione," Ginny explained. "I thought they'd want to know."

Harry saw both Ron and Hermione colour and look uncomfortable, as Ginny called attention to the fact that they'd been sharing a room, but Dumbledore made no comment. In fact, he didn't betray the slightest surprise about the apparent sleeping arrangements.

"Ginny said your scar was burning, Harry," Hermione said quickly.

"Yeah," said Harry. "It still is, actually, but it's not as bad as before."

"I imagine it is, Harry," said Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore," Ginny interrupted, clearly unable to contain herself, "do you know what's happened? It's… it's not anything at the Burrow, is it?" She'd sat on the sofa next to Harry, and he put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her.

"I'm afraid I haven't received word yet."

Harry looked down at Ginny and saw her bite down on her lip to stop it from trembling.

"Only Dad wrote to us last week and told us not to come home," said Ron, his own voice a bit shaky. "So he must've heard something, but if you let all the other students go home, it must mean that our family was being specifically targeted."

Dumbledore sighed. "It would certainly appear that way. I'm sorry, Ron." It was an indication of the gravity of the situation that the headmaster used Ron's first name. "I don't know what your father may have learned at the Ministry. I'm waiting for news, just as you are."

There was an edge to the headmaster's voice that Harry had never heard before. To Harry, he sounded extremely worried… and guilty somehow. It was not a comforting thought.

Suddenly there was a pop, which sounded unnaturally loud. Harry turned and saw with growing alarm that Professor Grubbly-Plank's head had appeared in the fireplace.

"Excuse me," said Professor Dumbledore, while Harry exchanged worried looks with the others. Just what was going on here? It certainly appeared as if Professor Grubbly-Plank was going to deliver news about the apparent attack, but Harry wasn't at all certain that she was trustworthy.

She and Professor Dumbledore began to converse in quiet voices, while Harry tried very hard to make out what they were saying without appearing to eavesdrop. But he couldn't understand a word they were saying, and from the looks on Ron's and Ginny's faces, neither could they. Hermione was concentrating very hard and shaking her head. "Sounds like Gobbledegook," she muttered.

Harry wondered why it was necessary for the two to exchange information in another language. Didn't Dumbledore trust them, or was it something on Professor Grubbly-Plank's end? But she was almost certainly in Hagrid's cabin. It didn't make sense.

There was another pop, and Professor Dumbledore turned back to them looking very grave.

"What is it?" Ginny asked in a very small voice. Harry could feel her shrinking against his side in anticipation of bad news.

"You will be relieved to know that none of your family was affected by last night's attacks," Dumbledore said.

Harry felt Ginny relax against him in relief, but he sat up a bit straighter. "Attacks? There was more than one?"

"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry to tell you that several Muggle-born Hogwarts students will no longer be with us."

Everyone seemed to slump in his seat as the news sunk in.

"Who?" Hermione asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind.

"Kevin Whitby, Morag MacDougal, Owen Cauldwell, and Stewart Ackerly. Miss Granger, it is also my sad duty to inform you that your house was also attacked."

"But… Mum and Dad went to visit Aunt Tillie. They won't have been home."

"That was most fortunate, but it looks as if the house was destroyed."

Ron took her hand and squeezed it, while Hermione went white, but Harry suddenly felt angry. "How can we be so sure that Professor Grubbly-Plank is telling the truth?" he asked hotly. "How do we know she isn't feeding us lines directly from Lucius Malfoy himself?"

Hermione let out a gasp at Harry's boldness, but Professor Dumbledore merely sighed and sat down. "A reasonable question, Harry. Up until February that might have been true. It is no longer the case."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Professor Snape, since his return to us, has been keeping an eye out for someone who could possibly be the spy. When Viktor Krum resigned…" Hermione looked positively vindicated at this. "…we hoped that the spy might become overly confident and make a mistake, and that is what happened. Or perhaps she wished to be caught. She willingly took Veritaserum and confessed to all."

Harry, feeling more and more agitated, stood up and began pacing. "So she's been passing along information to Lucius Malfoy all year?"

"Yes, Harry."

"And she's the one who told Lucius Malfoy about Ginny?"

"I'm afraid so."

"She performed a Memory Charm on Ginny," Harry said in a deadly calm voice, which all but belied his anger. His hands were beginning to shake, however.

"Yes, and she put the Imperius Curse on Viktor Krum so that he would help her discover who the Jewel-wright was. And she lured Miss Weasley out of Hogwarts just before Christmas."

"Then why in hell are we trusting her now? Why hasn't she been sent to Azkaban for life?" Harry shouted.

Dumbledore ignored Harry's outburst and began to explain patiently. "Because she was acting under duress, Harry. Lucius Malfoy told her he'd kill her family if she didn't do as she was ordered. She has a son and grandchildren, and she's quite attached to them. Once we learned of this, we arranged for her family to be moved to a safe place. They have gone into hiding. Since then, she has continued to communicate with Lucius Malfoy, but she's spying for our side now. She said it was the least she could do."

Harry sat down again, not quite knowing what to say. He still wasn't sure Professor Grubbly-Plank was completely trustworthy--he was still angry with her for what she'd done, even if he could understand her motivation--but it wasn't his decision to make, really. He could only hope Dumbledore was right about her. He'd trusted Sirius, after all, when most people wouldn't have.

"So that was why you were talking to her in Gobbledegook," said Hermione. "In case someone was listening in on her end."

"Exactly, Miss Granger."

Harry wondered why Dumbledore had come up to Gryffindor Tower to use the fireplace here, when there was one in the headmaster's office. He drew the conclusion that Dumbledore must be afraid of his own fireplace being watched somehow. No one would expect him to use this one.

"Wasn't that dangerous for Professor Grubbly-Plank?" Ron was asking. "If there was someone listening in, wouldn't they be suspicious?"

"Indeed, Mr Weasley, but these are dangerous times and will continue to be so until Voldemort is defeated." Harry saw him glance over to the table where the books from the library were still lying about. "If you'll excuse me, I have some unfortunate news to deliver to Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout." He sounded resigned.

Once he'd gone, Hermione said, "Morag MacDougal. She was in my Arithmancy class…" No one knew what to reply to this. Then Hermione seemed to shake herself. "Did you notice how tired he looked?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "Like he hasn't slept in weeks."

"He's got to be feeling bad about letting the students go home. If he'd kept them at school they would have been safe."

"Yeah, but their families wouldn't have," said Ron. "Still, he couldn't have known, could he? He wouldn't have let them go if he'd had an inkling this was going to happen."

"And whatever your dad heard, it was just wrong," Harry said.

"But Dumbledore didn't even know about those rumours," Hermione reminded him.

"Why couldn't Professor Grubbly-Plank have known this was coming?" asked Ginny.

"They must not have told her," said Hermione, nodding towards the table with the library books. "Well, we know what we need to do. Keep looking."

Not even Ron protested this course of action.

They all went back to searching, more determined than ever to find what it would take to defeat Voldemort. Harry was finding it more difficult to concentrate today. Although his scar had stopped throbbing so painfully, it still ached dully, a constant reminder of the threat Voldemort posed.

Ginny, beside him, looked to be attacking her text with vigour, as her brow furrowed in deep concentration. She was pushing herself, he realised suddenly. She'd put so much pressure on herself over Charlie, and here she was doing it again. She definitely didn't need any other form of pressure put on her from other quarters. It would be best all round if Harry resolved to sleep in his own bed from now on.

His scar gave another twinge, and he reminded himself he was supposed to be searching for the means to defeat Voldemort. Once the war was over it would take the pressure off them all.

*

The Easter holiday passed and summer term began, but they still had made no progress in finding what they were looking for. They'd worked full out for days on end, neglecting their school assignments, until they'd gone through all the library books. But they'd turned up nothing. It was beginning to look as if the source text they were searching for wasn't in Hogwarts library after all.

As she had during fourth year when they'd been unable to turn up a suitable spell for staying under water for an hour, Hermione took the library's shortcoming as a personal affront. Harry looked over at her now, and it seemed to him her face was lined with worry. He had a sneaking suspicion she'd been staying up late at night to consult the books while the rest of them were asleep.

He knew the reason behind her worry wasn't likely her parents. She'd heard from them not long after the news of the attack on her home had reached Hogwarts. They were obviously unhappy about their house but quite relieved they hadn't been home at the time. There was a small flat available for rent above their dental practice, where they could stay while the house was being rebuilt. The only problem was, it looked as if it was going to be quite a tight squeeze once Hermione came back home at the end of June.

"I'll write to Mum," Ron had said. "I'm sure she'll let you stay with us. It'll be safer for you at the Burrow in any case."

On the very last day before term began, they'd had to lay the runes aside while they rushed to complete their neglected holiday assignments. For once, Hermione hadn't scowled at Harry and Ron while they invented their Divination homework. She was too busy with her Arithmancy calculations.

Even though term had begun again and the rest of the students had returned, the atmosphere in the castle was very subdued. There was a lot less noise and exuberance in the corridors between classes, making it seem as if a lot more than four students were missing from their number. Even the Gryffindor common room was quieter these days. Their house may not have been touched quite as directly by the latest attacks, but it could have been. Indeed, it almost had been, and everyone knew it.

Harry sighed and went back to his homework. Earlier that week they'd faced facts and returned the books to the library. Not only had they been through them as carefully as they could, they had no time to work on they project now. It was almost May, and the NEWTs loomed ever closer.

Ginny had already finished her homework and was curled up in an armchair by the fire. Harry had to work hard at not being jealous of her leisure time. It had been a long time since he'd been able to sit and read a book because he wanted to and not because he had to. Just as long as she hadn't managed to discover Dr Zog…

He craned his neck and squinted at the title to be sure. His book had been distressingly well-behaved lately, and he wasn't sure if this was due to Professor Flitwick telling it off or because it was planning something really awful.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw she was reading Rare Magical Talents. Harry remembered Ginny's reaction to that book when Hermione had tried to convince her to read it the previous autumn, so he was rather surprised to see her calmly reading it now. In fact she looked quite absorbed. Perhaps it was a sign she was coming to terms with who she was. He certainly hoped this was the case.

Much later that night, Harry tossed in his bed, unable to sleep. Ever since the attack over the Easter holiday, his scar had continued to bother him. It was never so bad that he could describe it as painful exactly, but he was constantly aware of its presence on his forehead. Tonight it was a bit worse than usual, and it was preventing him from falling asleep. He could tell from the snores in the room that the other seventh year boys had all dropped off. He pounded his pillow impatiently and rolled over, willing himself to sleep, but nothing happened.

After about an hour, he'd had enough. He got out of bed, tied on his dressing gown and reached for his glasses. Something was making him restless, and he decided to go down to the common room for a while. It was better than lying awake in bed.

He went to the window for a glass of water, half expecting to see a light coming from Hagrid's cabin. But all was dark and quiet in the grounds. Too quiet, somehow.

He stole downstairs and was surprised to see a light in the common room. Someone was still up. He froze on the stairs for a moment, wondering if he was going to interrupt a tryst. It would have to be one of the sixth year boys, he decided. All the boys in his year were asleep in the dormitory. He'd have heard it if one of them had sneaked out. He couldn't imagine either Ralph Chapman or Kevin Graham involved with a girl; he couldn't think of them as anything other than Beaters. It might be Colin Creevey, although Harry had trouble imagining a girl who would be interested in him, as well. Maybe Colin had finally managed to convince Parvati to meet him without help from Dr Zog.

Harry stood on the step and listened for a while before deciding it was safe to proceed. He hadn't heard anything that would indicate he was about to walk in on a couple in a passionate clinch. Instead, he found Hermione sitting at one of the tables with her nose in a book.

"Hermione, what are you doing down here? It's past one in the morning."

Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice and looked up. "Harry!"

He walked over and sat down at her table. "I couldn't sleep," he replied to unasked question. Then he saw what she was working on. "I thought we'd taken all that back to the library."

"We did. I got it out again." She went on going over the page with meticulous care.

"Why?"

She looked up. "Don't tell Ron I said this, but I don't think he went over his books properly."

"So you're going through them yourself?"

"Yes." She turned to a new page, while Harry wondered if she'd already checked over his work for him. She'd been looking tired these days, much as she had during third year, and this would explain why. How many nights had she been working at this on her own?

"I can't help but think," she said after a few more pages in silence, "that we've missed something somewhere. Or we've got the text wrong."

Harry didn't know what to reply, and she turned another page. After a moment, she gasped and peered more closely at the runes. "I knew it! He passed right over it! It's here!" She didn't really sound angry with Ron; rather, she seemed excited that her dedication had finally paid off.

"Are you sure?"

Hermione double-checked. "Yes, look!"

She turned the book and pointed to the page, but Harry had no idea whether this was the right text without having Ginny's copy for comparison. "I'll take your word for it."

As Harry sat and watched, Hermione pulled out a quill and painstakingly began to copy the passage onto a piece of parchment. She left a large amount of space between lines, and Harry soon saw why she did this. Taking one symbol at a time, she wrote the sound each rune stood for over it, beginning with the part of the passage they'd worked out previously and slowly filling in the rest of the page. She muttered to herself occasionally as she came across a rune whose value they had not come across before. When she was finished, Harry saw a jumble of letters and runes on the page, but none of it made any sense to him.

"How do you know what it means?" he asked.

"I've only worked out the sound values. I still have to translate it into English." She was digging through her bag, finally smiling in triumph as she pulled out a dictionary.

"Isn't that going to take all night?"

Hermione shrugged, as she began paging through the dictionary.

"Maybe we ought to leave it till morning," Harry tried again. "We can tell Ron and Ginny you found it then."

"I couldn't possibly sleep now. I want to work this out. You can go up to bed if you want."

But something made Harry stay and watch while she patiently translated the passage, a frown breaking out over her face as she progressed.

"I don't know about this, Harry," she said at one point.

"Does it say how we can defeat Voldemort?"

"Yes, but…"

Harry didn't let her finish. "Keep going then."

Hermione bit her lip and went on. It was nearly four in the morning when she laid aside her quill at last. She didn't look pleased in spite of having just worked out a difficult passage, which no one else had probably even looked at for centuries.

"See what you make of this."

She handed the parchment over to Harry. There, in her precise handwriting, Harry read: "To defeat the one who would cheat death, the one who bears the sign of victory must make a sacrifice."

There was more, but he stopped there and read the first sentence back to Hermione. "I don't get it. That's not what we thought it meant."

"That's what it means in its proper context," Hermione explained.

"The one who would cheat death, that's Voldemort. But who's the one who bears the sign of victory?"

"I think that's you, Harry."

"Where do you get that?"

She didn't answer right away; instead she dived back into her bag and took out another large book. Harry recognised it as her rune dictionary, the one he'd used to practice summoning charms on while preparing to face the Hungarian Horntail in his fourth year. She paged through it and then pointed. "Here."

Harry looked down at the page.

"That one's called a sigil," Hermione explained. It's commonly used to signify victory."

"It… it sort of looks like my scar, doesn't it?"

"Yes, exactly."

Harry swallowed. "How old is this text again?"

"Over a thousand years. Maybe two. Far, far older than Hogwarts."

A shiver passed through him, and he felt the fine hairs on his arms stand on end. "Right. Now what's this about a sacrifice?"

"Keep reading," Hermione said grimly.

Harry did so. There it was. The key to defeating Voldemort, he was sure of it. This one spell would end it all, the killing, the despair, the evil… It would take away Ginny's feelings of guilt after every attack, her sense that she should be doing something to protect all these people no matter what the cost to her was. It would remove the fear everyone felt, the mistrust, the uncertainty… In the end, it wasn't really asking that much of him, was it, not if it could accomplish all that…

"You can't seriously be considering it." Hermione's sharp voice broke in on his musing.

"Yes, I am."

"Harry, you can't!"

"I can, Hermione. What choice do I have? You haven't got a home to go back to because of Voldemort. Ginny and Ron have lost a brother. How many more people have to die? This can be ended!"

"But you'll…"

Harry cut her off. "Don't say it. I'll do what I have to." He stared hard at her, while Hermione stared back, her eyes getting brighter and brighter with unshed tears, but Hermione looked away first. She knew he was right.

"Harry, I won't be able to stand it if…"

"No one ever said it was going to be easy, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

"There's got to be another way to do it. We can find another way."

Harry shook his head. "How long did it take us to find this? If there's another way to do it, and I'm not convinced that there is, how much longer will it take to find it? How many more attacks will there be in the time it takes?"

Hermione looked down and sniffed audibly. "You're not going to just go haring off after him, are you?" she quavered.

Harry hesitated. He didn't know the answer to that himself. If he knew where Voldemort was, he'd go, but it was pointless to leave with no clear idea where to search.

"I won't head out tonight," he said at last. "But I won't guarantee you I won't disappear one day without warning if I do hear something, either."

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. She moved to get up, but Harry put a hand over hers and she froze. "Swear to me you won't tell Ron and Ginny about this. Swear you won't tell anyone."

"Harry, I…"

"Swear it."

"What am I going to tell them when you just disappear then?"

"You can tell them we've found out what the text means. You can tell them we've found the spell. But I do not want either of them to know the details."

He was pinning her with his gaze, and she quailed under it. He thought she was almost frightened of him in that moment. "Ginny's going to want to know. She's interested in this. She's going to want to see the entire passage, and she's going to want to know how I went about translating it."

"Then we'll only show her the bit of it we want her to know about."

Harry knew what he had to do then. He'd remember the spell. It was permanently burned into his memory now. Hermione gasped in shock as he tore the page out of the library book. "Harry!" she cried, outraged.

He picked up the parchment on which she'd done the translation, as well, crumpled it together with the page from the library book and tossed them into the fireplace. The pages began to smoke as they came into contact with the embers, which remained from the previous evening's fire, but Harry wanted to be sure that nothing of them remained.

"Incendio!"

The fire roared to life and consumed the evidence. Hermione was staring at him, wide-eyed.

"Swear, Hermione, swear you won't tell them."

She finally nodded her assent before running from the room.

I think I need to disclaim something here, that I don't think I've disclaimed in the past through an oversight. I had an e-mail this week from a reader, which called the matter to my attention. The concept of a Jewel-wright, that is someone who can magically create a jewel, comes from J. R. R. Tolkien. He invented the term Jewel-wright, as well, as far as I know. In his legendarium, The Silmarillion, there is a race of elves who discover how gems can be created through their own power, and the most powerful of these elves creates three magical gems. These gems don't have the same qualities as the ones Ginny makes in my story, but the idea stems from there.