May soon faded into June, and before Harry knew it the end of the school year was almost upon him. As he ate a hurried breakfast on the morning of the final Quidditch match of the term, he reflected on how much had changed over the past year. He had rediscovered the Wizarding world and ‘met’ all of his friends, seen Dolores Umbridge carted off to Azkaban, had his memory returned - by Hagrid of all people, started dating Ginny, survived a direct assault on the castle, and forcibly stopped Snape from attacking his girlfriend. All in all, it had been a rather eventful year, and he was suddenly amazed to realize that he hadn’t spent one day of it in the hospital wing. With any luck, he planned to keep it that way, although if past experience was any indicator, he’d probably still end up paying Madam Pomfrey a visit before the train left in two weeks.
“Ready for the match?” Ginny asked cheerfully as she patted him on the arm.
“What?” Harry said distractedly. “Oh, yeah,” he muttered, shaking himself out of his stupor.
“Where were you just now?” she asked, grinning at him.
He smiled back at her, glad for the excuse to look into her sparkling eyes. “I was just thinking about everything that’s happened in the last year,” he answered finally. “Did you realize I’ve managed to stay out of the hospital wing all year?”
“Yeah, but now you’ve gone and jinxed it,” she laughed. Harry was laughing along with her when Hermione pulled a dejected-looking Ron into a seat across from them.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Ron; you’ve got to eat something,” she was muttering to him.
“Nerves?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
Ron and Hermione both shook their heads. “Just thinking,” Ron mumbled.
“About what?” Ginny asked. “You look really depressed.”
“You would be too if it was your last real Quidditch match ever,” Ron snapped.
“Hey, no need to get all huffy, mate,” said Harry.
“Sorry, Ginny,” Ron mumbled.
“It’s all right, Ron,” she said quietly. “Just remember to play at your absolute highest level for the entire match so you can look back on it as a happy memory.” That seemed to cheer Ron up slightly, and he began buttering a slice of toast.
Thirty minutes later the Gryffindor team was out on the pitch, and Ron appeared as cool and confident as ever as he shook hands with Chris Chambers, the Ravenclaw captain. After her usual short speech about good sportsmanship, Madam Hooch ordered the players into the air and released the balls. The spectators erupted into cheers as Theodore Nott began commentating in a magically amplified voice.
“And it’s Chambers with the Quaffle. Passes up to Fawcett; she barely touches it before sending it over to Bradley, who drops it right into Chambers’ hands for an easy sc- No! Weasley drops out of nowhere, swinging from his broom handle, and kicks it away just before it can go through.”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief and glanced over at Ron to see him grinning from ear to ear. Smiling in satisfaction, Harry returned to his search for the Snitch.
“Ravenclaw recovers the loose Quaffle after Weasley’s save, and they’re at it again. It’s Fawcett, up to Chambers, across to Bradley, back to Chambers; he takes the shot, and Weasley catches it easily. Still no score as Robins takes the Quaffle for Gryffindor.
“Robins streaking up the pitch; dodges a Bludger and passes back to Thomas, who tosses it up through a pair of defenders to Weasley. She reverses and shoots- Ten nil, Gryffindor!”
Harry cheered right along with everyone else as Ginny flew back to play defense. He had to hand it to Nott; he might not sound overly enthusiastic about a Gryffindor goal, but he was definitely a fair commentator.
As his eyes searched for the elusive Snitch, Harry considered the opposing Seeker. Stewart Ackerley was a fourth-year, and this was his first year on the House team. Still, he seemed to be a better flier than most, and Harry knew better than anyone that age didn’t matter much when it came time to catch the Snitch.
Deciding to test his opponent a bit, Harry fell into a steep dive as though he had just spotted the Snitch. Almost immediately, Ackerley was in a matching dive, his eyes searching frantically for the glittering golden ball. The boy was quick, Harry realized as he pulled out of his dive and rose to begin searching the pitch once more.
The match was a hard-fought one, especially when Dean Thomas took a Bludger to the head within the first ten minutes and had to be sent to the hospital wing for the rest of the match. An hour later, Harry checked the score and was surprised to find that Gryffindor was leading thirty to nil, despite the fact that they were playing one Chaser short. Demelza and Ginny had to be playing their hearts out, he realized, but Ron really must have taken his sister’s comment at breakfast to heart, judging by the ferocity with which he guarded his goal hoops.
With renewed vigor, Harry turned back to his search for the Snitch. His team was doing an amazing job, and it was his responsibility to make sure their phenomenal effort wasn’t in vain. Suddenly, Ackerley shot upward. Not knowing if it was a feint or if his opponent had really spotted the Snitch, Harry had no choice but to take off after him. It only took a second to realize that Ackerley really was in hot pursuit of the tiny golden ball as it rocketed upward.
Without warning, the Snitch broke to the right and then straight down. Its change in direction favored Ackerley, but Harry had the faster broom and was rapidly gaining as they hurtled toward earth. About ten feet above the ground, the Snitch made another quick change in direction, this time shooting back up at an angle. Harry stayed on its tail, but Ackerley couldn’t manage to turn quite as sharply, and started falling behind.
As he climbed above the Chasers and stretched out his hand, Harry could see a Bludger streaking toward him. Gritting his teeth against the impact, he closed his fist around the Snitch just as a red and gold blur shot up in front of him at full speed and absorbed the Bludger’s impact with a sickening crunch. The figure shot past Harry in an out of control spin toward the far end of the pitch, her long red hair whipping in the wind as she struggled with her broom.
His heart in his throat, Harry flattened himself against his broom handle and rocketed toward Ginny as fast as his Firebolt would carry him. She was losing altitude fast, but also seemed to be slowly regaining control of her broom. Just as he reached her, she let go of her broomstick and dropped the last two feet to the ground, landing hard on her back.
“Ginny!” Harry shouted as he leapt off his broom and rushed to her side. She groaned in response.
“Shouldn’t have... dropped like that,” she gasped, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. Her breathing was very shallow, and he could tell she was in a lot of pain.
“Stand back, Mr. Potter.” Harry looked up to see Madam Hooch standing over him. As soon as he moved out of her way, she began waving her wand over Ginny, checking her for injuries. “She’s got several broken ribs, and there’s going to be quite a bit of bruising, but she should be all right once we get her to Madam Pomfrey. Would you like to accompany her, Potter?”
Harry could only nod dumbly as he listened to the diagnosis, unable to ignore the fact that those injuries should have been his. Madam Hooch gently Levitated Ginny onto a hastily-conjured stretcher, and Harry began following it toward the stadium’s exit.
“Hang in there, Ginny,” he repeated over and over in a barely-audible voice. Her skin had gone deathly pale, reminding him far too much of the end of his second year, when he had found her near death inside the Chamber of Secrets.
“Harry,” Ginny gasped when they were about halfway to the castle. A fit of coughing prevented her from continuing, and Harry’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of a small red trickle coming from the corner of her mouth.
“Ginny, no!” he shouted, gripping her hand tightly and wishing the stupid stretcher would go faster.
“Listen,” she wheezed before coughing up a much larger quantity of blood. “False... Death....”
She was in the middle of another coughing fit when he finally realized what she was telling him. Without another thought, he pointed his wand at her and, while making a small circle in the air with his wand tip and jabbing it lightly at her, said, “Moreproba.” He heard the air leave her lungs as her chest fell. It didn’t rise again.
Furiously wiping at the frightened tears that were burning his eyes, he was surprised to discover that his cheeks were already wet. As he trudged toward the castle, all he could do was hope and pray that she would be all right.
“Harry!” Ron’s shout jolted Harry to his senses just as he was following Ginny’s stretcher through the large front doors of the castle. He looked up to see Ron flying his broomstick toward them, closely followed by Hermione, who was riding on Ginny’s broom and awkwardly carrying Harry’s Firebolt in one hand while doing her best to steer with the other.
“How is she?” Ron asked as he landed at the top of the front steps and hurried inside after Harry.
“Not good,” Harry whispered, turning his gaze back to his girlfriend’s limp body.
“Harry, she’s not breathing!” Hermione exclaimed a moment later.
“False Death Charm,” he muttered before either she or Ron had a chance to panic.
Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise. “That was really good thinking.”
Harry shook his head. “She asked me to do it.”
They walked on in silence until they reached the hospital wing, where Harry explained everything to Madam Pomfrey.
“The False Death Charm is an excellent spell to use when you’re not sure of the extent of a patient’s injuries,” she observed as she waved her wand over Ginny’s apparently lifeless body. “Ah, as I suspected. Both of her lungs have been punctured by broken ribs, and there’s some damage to her liver and pancreas as well.”
“Will she be all right?” Ron asked worriedly.
“She’ll be fine; not to worry,” Madam Pomfrey said kindly, “although it’s very lucky that Mr. Potter knew the False Death Charm. If she hadn’t had that cast on her, her injuries might very well have been life-threatening.”
“What?” Harry and Ron exploded together.
“Boys!” she scolded. “Madam Hooch did the best she knew how, but some of those injuries can be extremely difficult to find. Don’t be too hard on her; I’ve never seen injuries this extensive from a Bludger before, although I suppose that’s because people don’t generally fly head-on into them at full speed.”
“That’s not much comfort, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry seethed.
“No, it isn’t,” she sighed. “But it is the truth, and you really ought to calm down and focus on the fact that Miss Weasley is going to be fine, rather than plotting the demise of our flying instructor. Now, please stand back and let me work.” She began waving her wand over Ginny’s chest, and there was a faint cracking sound as her ribcage expanded slightly.
“There,” Madam Pomfrey muttered to herself, “that’s it for the bones. Now, a bit of....” Her voice trailed off as she waved her wand in an intricate pattern, first over the right side of Ginny’s chest, and then again over the left side. Nodding in satisfaction, she retreated to her office, returning quickly with three vials of potion.
“We may as well get these into her stomach before we revive her,” she explained. “Potter, Weasley, if you’ll lift her up slightly so I can help her swallow?”
Harry and Ron moved so that one was on each side of Ginny’s bed, and together they gently lifted her upper body, allowing the matron to pour the three potions down her throat.
“Very good,” said Madam Pomfrey after they had laid her back down. “Potter, would you like to be the one to revive her?”
“All right,” Harry replied. With a slightly shaky hand, he performed the counter-charm. As soon as the blue light collided with Ginny’s chest, she took a deep, gasping breath before opening her eyes.
“Harry?” she called softly.
“Hi,” he answered quietly. “How are you feeling?”
Ginny shifted experimentally and took another deep breath before grinning up at him. “I feel fine.” Harry, Ron, and Hermione breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“Sorry we weren’t with you sooner, Ginny, but they wouldn’t let Ron out of the stadium until they’d given him the Quidditch Cup,” Hermione explained.
“Everybody said it was no big deal - just some cracked ribs,” Ron added. “If I’d known-”
“Forget it, Ron,” said Ginny. “I’m fine now, and that’s what matters. Besides, you’re the captain; you had to accept the Cup for the team.”
“You should’ve seen him,” Hermione giggled. “He was in such a hurry to get to you that he practically threw the Cup at Professor McGonagall before jumping back on his broom and flying after you and Harry.”
“Yeah, he caught up with us right at the doors of the castle,” Harry agreed. “You should’ve seen Hermione, though. If I hadn’t been so worried, I’d have probably burst out laughing when I caught sight of her.”
“What did she do?” asked Ginny.
“I picked up both of your broomsticks and took off after Ron,” Hermione answered primly.
“Flying,” Harry added.
“You rode Harry’s Firebolt?” Ginny asked in surprise.
“No! I’m not crazy; I rode your broom and carried Harry’s. I don’t trust myself on anything that fast.”
“Hermione, Ginny’s got a Nimbus 2001 - it’s not exactly an old clunker,” Harry chuckled. “Anyway, you looked ridiculous trying to fly it one-handed and carry my Firebolt in the other hand.”
“I could’ve just left it on the pitch, you know,” Hermione shot back.
“Ouch; Hermione, you’ve wounded me,” Harry said, raising his hands in surrender.
“That’s what I thought,” Hermione sniffed haughtily, although she couldn’t quite keep the corners of her mouth from quirking upward.
Turning back to Ginny, Harry regarded her seriously once again. “Why’d you do it, Ginny?” he asked quietly.
“Do what?” she replied in her most innocent voice.
“Why’d you fly in between me and that Bludger? You were going at it at full speed when it hit you; you know that’s why you were hurt so badly, right?”
“Of course I know that,” said Ginny, doing her best to brush away his concern. “I just figured it was my turn to spend some time in the hospital wing at the end of term.”
Harry’s heart plummeted as he remembered the conversation around the breakfast table that morning. He had told Ginny how happy he was to have avoided a stay in the hospital wing, and she had taken it so seriously that she had been injured in his place.
“Ginny,” he croaked around the lump that was rapidly forming in his throat. He swallowed hard and tried again. “Ginny, I appreciate what you did for me, but please don’t ever do it again.”
“Why not?” she asked, looking up into his eyes. “You’d do the same for me.”
“That’s not the same thing,” he argued. “Okay, so maybe it is, but still.... I can’t stand to see you hurt.”
“Harry,” she said patiently as she reached out to take him by the hand, “look at me. I’m fine.”
Harry shook his head vehemently. “You wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t told me to do the False Death Charm. Hooch missed your punctured lungs and a few other things; Madam Pomfrey said that if that charm hadn’t been put on you, you might’ve-” He couldn’t continue.
Ginny paled as she realized the implications of what he was telling her, but recovered quickly. “You did put the charm on me, though, Harry,” she insisted. “That’s all that matters; I’m fine. And since I’m fine, I believe we have a party to get to.”
“Not so fast, Miss Weasley,” said Madam Pomfrey, placing a firm hand on Ginny’s shoulder to prevent her from getting out of bed. “I’ll need to keep you for observation for at least another hour before I can allow you to leave.” Ginny sank back onto her bed with her arms folded angrily across her chest.
“How’s Dean, Madam Pomfrey?” Hermione asked suddenly. Harry glanced over at the next bed to find an unconscious Dean Thomas with his head tightly wrapped in bandages.
“Mr. Thomas sustained a mild head injury and will have to stay overnight, but he should be ready for visitors tomorrow morning and I expect him to be ready to leave by lunchtime.”
“Ron, you and Hermione can head up to the common room,” said Ginny. “Harry will stay and keep me company, won’t you Harry?”
Harry just grinned at her as Ron said, “I recognize that tone. Come on, Hermione, before they start snogging all over the place.”
Despite Ron’s assumption, Harry and Ginny didn’t spend any time snogging in the hospital wing. Instead, they merely sat and talked about her injuries and how frightened both of them had been. By the time Ginny was released, she was pleased to have convinced Harry that they should just be grateful that she was all right, rather than focusing on what might have happened. On that note, they left Dean sleeping soundly in his bed and headed up to Gryffindor Tower to join in the post-match festivities.
The last two weeks of the school year passed quickly for Harry, and it seemed that every spare moment was devoted to revising for his exams. His only consolation was that at least he didn’t have it as bad as Ron, who was getting ready to take his N.E.W.T.s and had to deal with Hermione’s constant harping whenever he tried to take a break.
What concerned Harry far more than end of year exams, however, was the fact that his scar had been hurting him more and more frequently. He had, of course, passed this information on to Dumbledore, but neither of them knew what to make of it, other than to suppose that Voldemort was planning something big. When end of term exams came and went without incident, however, Harry’s hopes were high that maybe Voldemort’s latest plan wasn’t going to be focused on him.
On the morning that they were to take the Hogwarts Express back to London, Harry and Ginny enjoyed a leisurely breakfast while waiting for Ron and Hermione to finish up their final duties as Head Boy and Head Girl. Harry grimaced when he heard them coming - or, more accurately, he grimaced when he heard what they were arguing about.
“Because I really don’t care anymore, Hermione,” Ron said in a tired voice.
“But Ron, our N.E.W.T. scores will determine the sorts of jobs that are available to us, and-”
“I know,” Ron groaned as he slid into a seat at the Gryffindor table and buried his head in his hands. “It’s just that we’ve gone over every test together at least once, and doing it again isn’t going to change our answers. Why can’t we just enjoy our last meal here?”
Hermione fell silent, surprising not only Harry, but Ron and Ginny as well.
“You all right, Hermione?” Harry asked tentatively after a moment.
“Yes,” she nodded distractedly. “It’s just that, well, Ron’s right; this really is our last meal here. Not yours, I mean, but Ron’s and mine. I guess I never really thought this day would ever come.” She blinked rapidly, fighting the tears that were accumulating in the corners of her eyes until Ron slipped his arm around her and she buried her face in his shoulder. Ron looked helplessly over her head at Harry, who could only shrug, as he had no more idea what to do than Ron did.
“Ron,” Ginny said very quietly.
“Yeah?” Ron whispered.
“Remember how you felt the day of the Quidditch final when you were acting all down because it was your last match as a student?”
Ron nodded.
“That’s how Hermione’s feeling right now.”
Comprehension dawned in Ron’s eyes, and he pulled his girlfriend a little closer as she continued battling her conflicted emotions. After about a minute, she pulled away and wiped her eyes.
“Thanks, Ron,” she whispered.
“For what?” he asked in a surprised voice. “All I did was sit here.”
“That’s all I needed you to do,” she said with a soft smile.
“Oh. Well, er, if you ever need somebody to just sit here, I’m your man.” That got a quiet laugh out of her. The rest of breakfast was rather subdued, but Hermione’s melancholy did not return.
Once they had finished eating, the students all headed outside, where they rode to Hogsmeade Station in the school carriages. Upon arriving, there was the usual mad dash for an empty compartment on the train, but they managed to find one without any problems. Before they were able to get settled in, however, the compartment door slid open.
“Remus!” Harry exclaimed when he saw his old professor standing in the doorway.
“Hello everyone,” Remus Lupin said with a grin. “Mind if I join you?” They welcomed him warmly, and he settled comfortably into a seat.
“So, what brings you here?” Harry asked.
“Just a precaution,” Remus replied unconcernedly. “We’re still not sure what Voldemort’s planning, so we thought it would be best to have a few Order members on the train. Tonks and Moody are here as well.”
“Do you really think they’ll try attacking the train?” Hermione asked in surprise.
Remus shook his head. “No; our intelligence still suggests that Voldemort’s planning something big that has to do with the Department of Mysteries. We’re just here for a little added security.”
Before anyone had a chance to respond, the compartment door slid open again, revealing a rather small boy with light brown hair and beady black eyes. He grinned when he saw who was inside.
“Tyler?” Harry asked in disbelief.
“In the flesh,” said Tyler as he stepped inside, pulling Luna Lovegood behind him.
“It’s good to see you mate,” Harry said with a large grin. “But, er, what’re you doing here?”
“I came to ride the train with everybody,” Tyler answered simply. “Fred loaned me some old robes so I’d fit in a little better, and he and George Portkeyed me right into Hogsmeade. They said it was a crime for someone who loves magic as much as I do to be denied the opportunity to ride the Hogwarts Express at least once.”
“Those two,” Remus muttered, shaking his head. Harry couldn’t tell if he was exasperated or amused.
“So, what’s the word?” asked Tyler as he and Luna squeezed into seats next to Ron and Hermione.
“Exams are over,” said Ron.
“I think this might interest you,” said Remus as he pulled a folded up copy of the Evening Prophet out of a pocket in his robes. “This came out last night, but I don’t think any of you will have seen it since post only comes in the mornings at Hogwarts.” Carefully unfolding the paper, he revealed the front page.
Sirius Black Acquitted! read the headline. Harry grinned and quickly scanned the accompanying article.
In a surprise move made even more surprising by the secrecy with which it was carried out, the Ministry of Magic declared Sirius Black, the first person ever to escape from Azkaban, innocent of all charges against him. Black had been sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban nearly seventeen years ago after several witnesses claimed to have seen him kill a dozen Muggles and one wizard - Peter Pettigrew - with a single curse. In light of recent events, however the testimony of those witnesses has been called into question.
As recently as last year, Peter Pettigrew was still alive. He died of a snakebite just over a year ago while trying to abduct Harry Potter, lending credence to young Mr. Potter’s repeated claims that Pettigrew was working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It now appears that Potter and other Black supporters were correct when they insisted that it was Pettigrew, not Black, who was responsible for the deaths that day in 1981.
In light of this recent development, we as citizens must ask what our government is really doing. Sirius Black was imprisoned for twelve years before his escape, and was never granted a trial at which he might have defended himself. Since his daring escape from the Dementors, he has been forced to live the life of an outlaw, unable to move about freely for fear of being captured. After all this, his name was cleared in an extremely short resolution, and no restitution was even suggested. This abominable abuse of power by the Ministry must be put to a stop before more innocent lives are ruined.
The article went on, but Harry didn’t need to read any more. He looked up at Remus and grinned broadly.
“It’s working,” he said happily. “People will finally remember Sirius for who he really was.”
“Exactly,” Remus agreed. “Of course, the fact that the Ministry had no advance warning that this was being published also makes it a wonderful prank on dear Minister Fudge.”
“Speaking of pranks,” said Ginny, “would you happen to know anything about Snape suddenly becoming quite attractive a while back?”
“Yes,” Remus laughed. “I thought you lot might enjoy that, although I heard later that the timing could have been better. I’m sorry if I caused any more trouble for you, Harry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said dismissively. “The timing was perfect as far as I’m concerned.”
“How did you do it?” Hermione asked as she leaned forward in her seat, not wanting to miss anything.
“It was simple, really,” Remus answered. “I had a bit of leftover Polyjuice after an Order assignment, so I had Peeves take a stray hair off of Harry’s robes and put it in the potion, and then dump a bit into Severus’ morning pumpkin juice.”
“But how did he do it without being noticed?”
“Peeves can fly and make himself invisible,” Remus said with a shrug. “It wasn’t difficult for him. Then, as soon as the potion started taking effect, he released the owl that we had prepared earlier and it delivered the mirror and the note.”
“What did the note say?” Harry asked. “I’d been meaning to ask you that, but I kept forgetting.”
“It said, Congratulations! For the next hour, you will look exactly like your favorite student!” The compartment broke into a fit of hearty laughter, and soon Remus excused himself to go find Tonks as the teenagers began conversing comfortably about their plans for the summer. It wasn’t long before the compartment door slid open again, and this time the visitor definitely was not welcome.
“Well, it looks like we’ve found the rubbish bin,” drawled Draco Malfoy, causing Crabbe and Goyle - who stood slightly behind and to either side of him - to chuckle stupidly.
“Stuff it, Malfoy,” Ron snapped. Malfoy raised his eyebrows in an expression of annoyed superiority.
“I told you to enjoy your time as Dumbledore’s Head Boy, Weasley,” he sneered. “You’ve got nothing to hold over my head now.”
“You mean other than the fact that his father’s getting more and more influence while yours rots in Azkaban?” Harry asked calmly. To his momentary satisfaction, Malfoy’s pale face flushed with anger.
“At least my father’s still alive,” he growled. “Besides, he’ll be out before long, but you’ll be off to join your dead parents soon enough, Potter.”
Harry’s jaw clenched in anger, but before he had a chance to hex Malfoy, Tyler had jumped to his feet, his eyes wide with apparent awe.
“I know you!” Tyler exclaimed, rushing forward to grab Malfoy’s hand and begin shaking it furiously. “You’re Puff, right?”
“What?” Malfoy asked as he shoved Tyler away and looked at his hand as though it was covered in slime. His voice registered equal parts confusion and disgust.
“Well, Draco means dragon, and since you’re a wizard you can obviously do magic, so that would make you a magic dragon. Puff’s the only magic dragon I’ve ever heard of, so it seemed appropriate.” Hermione giggled quietly, and Harry looked at Tyler in shocked amusement as he remembered learning a song about Puff the magic dragon back in primary school. Aunt Petunia had punished him for corrupting Dudley when she had heard her son singing it after school one day.
“You know,” Tyler continued when there wasn’t more of a reaction. He began to sing, “Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea....”
Red-faced and furious, Malfoy plunged his hand into the pocket of his robes. Before anyone had a chance to react, his wand was out and aimed threateningly at Tyler.
“You filthy little- Reducto!” he shouted. Harry threw his hands forward in an effort to conjure a shield for his friend, but he knew he was too late to do any good. He was extremely surprised, therefore, when Malfoy was the one to cry out in pain while Tyler simply stood there with a smug smile on his face, watching as the Slytherin’s wand beat him about the head and neck.
“Problem with your wand?” he asked innocently as Malfoy dropped his wand on the floor. It continued trying to beat him, although now it could only reach his shins.
“This isn’t over,” Malfoy spat before storming away, Crabbe and Goyle following in his wake with mildly confused expressions on their faces.
“What happened to his wand?” Ron exclaimed immediately.
“See for yourself,” Tyler answered with a smirk as he bent down to pick up the dropped wand, which had stopped moving as soon as Malfoy left. He tossed it to Ron, who read the writing printed on the wand’s handle in disbelief.
“Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes? How’d he end up with this?”
Tyler pulled another wand out of his sleeve and began twirling it lazily between his fingers. “Pickpocket,” he said simply, causing a new round of laughter to echo through the compartment.
“I wonder what he meant when he said his father would be out of Azkaban before long,” Hermione said thoughtfully after the laughter had died down.
“He was probably talking about the Heliopaths’ plan to free all of the Death Eaters that have been locked up,” Luna suggested in the closest thing she had to a serious voice. Harry opened his mouth to ask her what Heliopaths were, but thought better of it and stopped himself at the last second.
“Malfoy’s just running his mouth like usual,” Ron said dismissively, completely ignoring Luna’s comment.
“But what if he isn’t?” Hermione asked worriedly. “What if there really is a plan to break the Death Eaters out, and Malfoy knows about it.”
“Then we’ll just have to deal with it when it happens,” Harry said reasonably. “There’s not much any of us can do about it at the moment, anyway.”
“True,” Hermione muttered, although she didn’t sound completely convinced.
“Why don’t we play a game of Exploding Snap to take our minds off all this serious rubbish?” Ginny asked quickly in an attempt to lighten the mood. Everyone agreed to play, although some were more enthusiastic than others, and the conversation shifted back to plans for the summer holiday.
The remainder of the train ride was happily uneventful, and it was a smiling group that unloaded their trunks from the luggage rack and began carrying them toward the exit. Harry was just about to start climbing down the stairs when his scar exploded with pain, causing him to drop his trunk as he stumbled backward into Ron. He could hear panicked voices speaking around him, but for a long moment he couldn’t focus on anything other than the pain. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to focus on his flagstone memory instead, and the pain receded to a barely-manageable level.
“I see that your skill at shielding your mind has continued to increase,” hissed a voice inside his mind.
“What do you want?” Harry growled.
The voice laughed; it was a cold, high-pitched, nauseating sound. “I want the same thing that I have wanted for years, Harry,” it answered. “I want to meet you in a duel to determine, once and for all, which of us is the superior wizard. I have grown tired of listening to the deluded fools who believe that you could ever vanquish me, and I am sure you have grown tired of our little game of cat and mouse. Meet me for one final duel to prove whether or not you are truly a match for Lord Voldemort.”
“Why should I come to you?” Harry asked angrily, his increased focus causing the pain to fade a little more.
Voldemort’s voice laughed inside his mind once again. “We shall meet again today, Harry; you have no control over that. I am merely offering to let you choose the venue. My followers and I have taken control of the Ministry of Magic, and I await you in a place that has particular significance for you.” Against his will, Harry saw an image of the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries flash inside his mind.
In the same instant, however, he caught a glimpse of Voldemort’s unshielded thoughts, and what he saw chilled him to the bone. He suddenly knew why the rebounding Killing Curse all those years ago hadn’t been able to kill the Dark wizard: he truly was immortal. A complex combination of charms and potions had rendered his soul forever earthbound, unable to cross over into the land of the dead. As this realization washed over him, he suddenly realized what he had to do, and was immensely grateful that his Occlumency was good enough to prevent Voldemort from seeing his current thoughts.
“If you refuse, then I shall simply come to you,” Voldemort continued, wrenching Harry’s attention back to the situation at hand. Another image flashed inside his mind, this time of an immediate all-out Death Eater attack on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. His stomach churned uneasily, but he already knew which option he had to choose.
“I’ll be there,” he answered in a dangerous whisper. Voldemort laughed again, the high, cold laugh that would forever remind Harry of his mother’s death. Then, as abruptly as the invasion into his mind had begun, it ended, and Harry found himself lying on the ground, looking up into the concerned faces of his friends.
“Harry? Harry, are you all right?” Ginny asked worriedly.
Harry shook his head tentatively, and was relieved when the movement didn’t cause him any pain. “Voldemort wants to end it today,” he grunted as he forced himself into a sitting position. Several sharp intakes of breath told him that his friends had understood exactly what he meant.
“Then we’ve got to get you out of here, now!” Hermione exclaimed, trying to pull him to his feet.
“No, Hermione,” he argued, shaking his arm loose from her grip and getting to his feet on his own. “Listen, I don’t have time to wait around; I’ve got to go meet Voldemort for this final duel.”
“Are you completely nutters?” Ron hissed, grabbing him by the shoulder to prevent him from escaping. “You’re not ready yet! Hermione’s right; we can take you someplace safe until this whole thing blows over.”
“I’m not running away,” Harry insisted stubbornly. “If I don’t go to Voldemort, then he’s going to come here looking for me. Look around this platform.” He paused a moment while his friends reluctantly looked around at the hundreds of people who were gathered there. “How many people do you think are going to die if that happens?”
“Where are we going, then?” Ginny asked.
Harry shook his head. “No way; I am not taking any of you with me! Voldemort’s after me, and I refuse to sacrifice any of you to him.”
“If you go, we go, mate,” Ron shot back. “I don’t care what’s there waiting for us, I’m not letting you run off to duel You-Know-Who all by yourself!”
“Let go, Ron,” Harry grunted as he tried to twist his arm free of his friend’s grasp. “We don’t have time to argue about this!”
“So quit arguing and let’s go!” Hermione shouted. Several people on the crowded platform turned to look at her.
Harry shut his eyes for a moment and blew out a long breath. He might be able to convince his friends to stay away if he had a lot of time to argue with them, but there was no way he was going to convince them in the short amount of time he had available.
“The Ministry of Magic,” he said at last. “The Death Eaters have taken over the building, and Voldemort’s waiting in the Death Chamber. I caught a glimpse of his plan when he was in my head, and I’m pretty sure he’s hoping to unnerve me by making me duel in the room where I lost Sirius.”
“Do you think you’ll be all right there?” Hermione asked worriedly.
“I’ll be fine,” Harry affirmed with a nod. “I dealt with that a long time ago, and although Voldemort doesn’t know it, I’ll actually have a pretty big advantage in that room. Now come on, let’s go!”
“Go where?”
Harry spun around at the sound of a voice behind him and discovered Neville Longbottom, who was watching their heated discussion interestedly.
“We’re going to the Ministry so Harry can duel with You-Know-Who,” Luna supplied dreamily. “Care to come along?”
Neville looked questioningly at the rest of the group, but seemed to decide from their expressions that Luna was telling the truth. “Count me in,” he said, drawing his wand.
“All right, everybody Apparate to the Atrium,” Harry instructed. “Ginny, I’ll take you Side-Along.”
“Harry, wait!” Tyler exclaimed. “What about me?”
“Sorry, Tyler,” Harry said apologetically, “but you’re not armed, and this isn’t exactly the sort of fight where being a good pickpocket will help very much.”
“I’ve got a couple of Stunning Sticks and a Shield Cloak,” Tyler argued. “I can fight as well as anyone!”
Surprisingly, it was Luna who ended the debate. “Sorry, Tyler,” she said quietly. “I’m sure you’d be brilliant, but it takes a lot of experience to be able to Side-Along Apparate with a Squib or Muggle. If one of us tried it, you’d probably get Splinched, and that’s usually fatal for non-magic people.”
Tyler looked around the group for another suggestion, but found nothing but looks of sympathy. He growled in frustration.
“Find Remus, Tonks, and Moody,” Harry instructed. “Tell them what’s going on, and have them contact Dumbledore.”
“Right,” Tyler responded with a nod, still looking very unhappy about being left behind.
“Let’s go, then,” said Harry, and everyone but Tyler drew their wands and Disapparated with a resounding crack!