Unofficial Portkey Archive

Wherein news is sold, made, and destroyed, Draco and Ginny get things they want, Harry gets more news than he bargained for, gets, tested, and is awarded the Order of Merlin; Harry, Hermione and Neville give speeches; Sirius is remembered; Death Eaters attack; Remus returns; and the Masked Ball goes forward without Neville.

Thanks to betas Mark Gardiner, Shane, and Mathiasgranger.

Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any other rights in the characters and other concepts created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money, nor do I seek any commercial advantage from this work. As such it constitutes "fair use" as defined in 17 U.S.C. §107.

Chapter 56 - Order of Merlin

The big day started earlier for some people than for others.

For Luna Lovegood, it merely extended the day previous … and before that … and before that. Finally, at four-thirty in the morning the final arrangements were complete for publication and distribution of the Quibbler's next edition.

It promised to be the best-selling Quibbler ever. It contained the eagerly-awaited second installment of Rita Skeeter's exclusive. This edition told the "true story" of Harry's experience once freed from Death Eater captivity by the goblins and returned to Hogwarts. Not incidentally, this story put to rest the sundry nasty rumours set flying during Hermione's mum's brief custody battle.

For maximum impact (and sales), Luna was determined to release the story on the same day that Harry, Hermione and the rest of them received the Order of Merlin.

It was a tremendous amount of work, but she had no choice. The Quibbler was Luna's now. With her father dead, nobody else could run it. If anything were going to get done, she had to do it, and she had.

At polar opposite, Ron Weasley was sleeping in. He had taken advantage of his participant's pass to visit the Gryffindor team captain's room - with Cho, of course. Harry would probably be busy. This was another of his friend's extravaganzas. To be sure, Ron was careful that his house tie was firmly knotted about the doorknob.

The house-elves had not even started serving breakfast when a bleary-eyed Ginny Weasley trudged to the otherwise deserted Potions dungeon for another tutorial with the ever obnoxious but surprisingly useful Draco Malfoy. As tutor, it was Malfoy's prerogative to set lesson times. He had outdone himself this time. Ginny was not a morning person.

Soon enough, he had her brewing, first, Pepper-Up Potion and then a variant of Hiccupping Solution. Once again, it seemed like ages before their businesslike chats turned to the subject that he most wanted - and she most needed - to discuss.

Draco knew it was best never to seem overly eager.

"That's two stirs to the left," Draco directed, watching Ginny's progress carefully. "Still, even a perfectly brewed Belch Powder isn't half the fun of the little toy I helped you concoct last time."

"I suppose that's so," Ginny replied noncommittally.

"Of course, you have to have the stones to use it in the first place," Draco needled.

"I'll have you know that I did use it, and I believe it worked," Ginny huffed.

"You believe it worked?" Draco repeated in a slightly mocking tone and with a deliberately raised eyebrow. The next few minutes would be among the most important of his life. "Believe me, that stuff's strong. I'd think you'd bloody well know if the git were ready to tear your clothes off."

"Unfortunately, my plan to get knocked off my broom by a Bludger worked a little bit too well. The stupid thing knocked me unconscious," Ginny explained annoyedly. "Still, judging from Harry's reaction afterwards, I'm convinced that the Lust Powder performed exactly as advertised. After all, you checked my brewing yourself…."

Draco grinned. "Well, maybe he is the necro type. Being around death so much, and all."

"That's just gross," Ginny retorted. "You're gross."

"Me gross? I've never thrown my unconscious body at anybody I'd just dosed with Lust Powder," Draco quipped once again. "But seriously, if you want my help in your little scheme, you need to level with me," Draco lied through his teeth. "What makes you so sure?"

"Ever since that day, he's avoided me like the plague," Ginny revealed.

"Riiiiiight," Draco drawled sarcastically. "Now that's a Gryffindor's idea of progress, for you. Use it again, and maybe he'll emigrate all the way to America or some such. Then you'd really have accomplished what you're after."

"You wouldn't know fidelity if you tripped over it," Ginny shot back, "and you surely don't know Harry very well. That's just how I'd expect him to act after having what I'm sure he considered were extremely inappropriate feelings."

"Were you wearing that necklace like you were supposed to?" Draco asked with carefully feigned disinterest.

"Transfigured, but yes," Ginny answered. She pulled out what looked like a Gryffindor-coloured headband.

Draco nodded. This was good - crucial, even. "Well, do you want to confirm that his avoidance really means desire, or are you content just to wish that it does?"

"I don't think I need do anything," Ginny told Draco. "I'm convinced." She gave her hair a haughty flip.

"Have it your way then," Draco answered with an exaggerated look of disgust. "But you can count me bloody well out."

"But you said you'd help me…," a disgruntled Ginny reminded the boy.

"If you recall, what I said was that I'd prefer that the Great, Order-Winning Git at least be with a pure-blood. That needn't be you, Reds. If I thought the girl could be a worthy Slytherin like Beth or Tracey, don't think I wouldn't drop you like a bloody hot potato. But I'm realistic, and I don't see that happening. So don't fool yourself that I'm doing this for you…. And let me be honest, I'm not doing it at all unless I'm sure that the risk I'm running - just by being in this room with you - has a chance of paying off. I'm sorry, but I'm just not as confident about this as you are."

He turned on his heel.

"So good-bye. At least your brewing has improved." Concealing all the tension and anxiety that he felt at that moment, Draco started to leave.

"Oh, all right," Ginny surrendered, "do your bloody spell."

Draco stopped in his tracks and allowed himself to breathe again. "That's better," he conceded, "but you have to do it to yourself. It's nothing I can do."

"What do you mean, do it myself?" Ginny asked peevishly.

Draco sat himself down behind the large black-marble topped brewing table with an audible thud. "Don't blame me. That's just how the bloody spell is cast. I didn't create it."

"So I have to magic myself then," Ginny confirmed. "And what happens if I mess it up?"

"Then we don't know if you got Potty's attention with that powder or not," Draco restated what he thought was obvious. "You can just take the rest of it and out-Veela the blonde French bimbo for all I care. I think she's also after the Git, by the way."

"Fleur's on staff," Ginny huffed. "She's not allowed."

Draco cocked his eyebrow. "So why should she pay any more attention to the rules than you do? You can go ahead with just your powder, but I can pretty much guarantee you that you'll get caught…. And then there'll be hell to pay."

"All right, all right. What's the ruddy incantation?" Ginny asked. She was not going to fool herself. Whilst Hermione was tough competition, at least Ginny brought some unique advantages to that contest. Her strengths and those of the French witch were much the same - and she knew Fleur outclassed her.

"Well it goes like this - and pay careful attention. Solvo ut quod sileo intus…." He recited a lengthy Latin sentence, explaining that the necklace would change colour in accordance with how much lust it registered when Ginny had used the powder. Then Draco pulled out his wand and painstakingly demonstrated the proper wand movement. "Keep the tip of your wand at least twenty centimetres away from the necklace itself."

But Ginny did something unexpected. She took the necklace off. Handing it to Draco, she demanded, "Now, you do it."

"Do what?"

"The spell you just taught me. If you think I'm going to perform on myself an unknown spell that I just learnt from you without any precautions, you're crazy," Ginny hissed at him suspiciously. "Put the necklace on, and perform that spell on yourself first."

Draco gave her a very exasperated look. "One of these days, you'll finally trust me," he grumbled. "Don't forget, I've given you chances to quit every step of the way."

"Go on," she demanded. She had her wand out, but not pointing at him - not yet.

"Oh, all right," Draco gave in. "But no pictures of me with a girl's necklace around my neck. What will happen is there'll be a burst of magic. But since I haven't been around anyone indulging in Lust Powder with this thing on, my casting won't do anything to the necklace. Pay close attention and you'll see how it's done…."

With that, Draco braced himself and uttered the incantation. The burst of silver magic that shot from his wand knocked him backwards a couple of steps. After it dissipated, the necklace indeed appeared unaffected.

"Satisfied?" Draco smirked as he flopped his arms to his side in mock frustration. "Your turn."

Ginny sighed. Once again, Draco had proven his bona fides. She took the necklace back and put it on.

Then, she pointed her own wand at herself and concentrated on reciting the magic exactly as instructed. Thus occupied, she did not see that Draco, instead of pocketing his wand, still held it by his side - in an odd, tip upwards position, pointed towards the necklace. Just as she completed the incantation, Draco performed his own silent incantation.

The powerful burst of silvery magic that emerged from Ginny's wand struck the necklace fully. Its momentum shoved Ginny backwards into the raised dais at the front of the classroom. Draco's much less noticeable wordless spell also struck home, but never registered, given the much stronger simultaneous impact of the unfamiliar spell she cast upon herself.

When Ginny's head stopped spinning, she noticed that the necklace had indeed changed colours. No longer shiny silver, the necklace now had the same pale turquoise hue as the Astronomy Tower's copper roof.

"Well, this time, I have to give it to you," a self-satisfied Draco allowed. "It looks like you were right after all."

* * * *

Harry, Hermione, and Neville Longbottom all received beribboned parchments summoning them to a meeting with the Headmaster at the cruelly early hour of 7:00 a.m. These summonses arrived the night before - brought by Professor McGonagall herself - about a half an hour before lights out. Virtually the entire house was in the common room to see it happen. Since he, Hermione, and Neville were the three student speakers at the upcoming Order of Merlin ceremony, Harry and everyone else naturally supposed that the summonses involved some sort of rehearsal.

Harry could almost feel Ron's scowl when he realised that Dumbledore had not summoned him, too. It scarcely mattered though; once Hermione was going, Ron would have stayed away unless attendance were mandatory.

Ron and Hermione were in the depths of a Cold War - worse than Third Year - and Harry could do nothing about it.

They had another big blow-up earlier in the week, concerning - what else - Cho. At least Ron, who precipitated it, had had the decency to confront Hermione when Harry was absent. It kept Harry from being caught in the middle.

But since then, Harry's two best friends could barely stand being in the same room.

Now, Harry was reminded of the ongoing feud as he dressed in the sixth year boys' dormitory. It felt strange leaving Ron behind. But leave he must. Ron had not been invited on this outing.

Hermione gave Harry a bright smile minutes later, when he slouched into the otherwise deserted common room, still straightening his tie.

"Geez, it's almost criminal how wide awake you are," Harry remarked at the sight of her.

"Oh, honestly, what is it with men? Is it something congenital that you must have about more two hours of sleep than we do?" she replied tartly. "I assume Ronald's going to sleep until almost noon, again."

She only called Ron Ronald when angry with him.

Harry almost replied with a quip about 2:00 a.m. feedings, but decided not to go there. "Eh, who cares about that," he shrugged as Hermione inspected him to make sure his robes hung properly. "Let's go."

Walking down the deserted tower staircase in the early morning silence, Harry asked her, "What's with you and Ron, anyway? Can't you lighten up on him?"

"Harry, we've been over this before, and you don't want to know," Hermione responded. "Trust me, you don't."

"But this latest has dragged on for almost a week," Harry complained. "It's not right for my fi… er … girlfriend and my best mate constantly to shoot daggers at each other. Can't you…?"

"…And it will continue until Ronald apologises," a very stiff sounding Hermione broke in.

"What did he do that was so terrible?" Harry asked plaintively.

"I told you already, you don't want to know," Hermione repeated.

Harry stopped at the landing. Nobody, not even Peeves, was about. "Want to or not, if this goes on much longer, I think I need to know," he pressed. "I don't want any sort of scene at today's investiture."

"Ronald's the immature one, not I," Hermione retorted. "I promise to behave myself…. Harry, just drop it. I don't want to come between you two being friends."

"It won't," Harry stated firmly. "I just want you to work things out like you've always done before - it's not the first time you've fought, you know."

"I really don't think you want to hear this," Hermione persisted.

Harry folded his arms over his chest. "Try me."

With a sigh, Hermione yielded to her fiancé's will - no more lies. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, please."

So Hermione told Harry how, whilst Harry was in one of his Animagus tête à têtes with Professor McGonagall, Ron had approached her in the library, seething at some imagined slight to Cho. They had adjourned to an empty classroom and had it out.

Ron had accused Hermione of harassing Cho twice, and ordered her to stay well away from his girlfriend. Hermione admitted to a confrontation with Cho in Hogsmeade. She promised Ron that would never happen again. She stoutly denied doing anything else.

Harry had never heard the details of what happened in Hogsmeade.

Now Hermione told him. "She came into the sex and sexuality section of Samson's Option and at first I thought she might be pregnant - but she obviously knew all about contraception. She chose some book about sexually related conditions and diseases, but when I asked her about it, she only said she was `careful.' I was shocked. She didn't even resist the implication that she was not exclusive with Ronald. That angered me, and I'm afraid I went a little overboard. I suggested that she check health sources on the Internet…."

"Big mistake," Harry commiserated. "I can see why she's upset with you … and why she can't tell Ron why."

"I know," Hermione groaned, shaking her head at her own stupidity. "I was too angry for my own good. But that's all I ever did. I haven't so much as said `Hi' to her since. And I thought we'd hashed that one out. I told Ronald that - and I told him I didn't do anything to Cho after that. He didn't believe me, and he didn't want to hear my side of anything. He got shirty with me, and I hexed him."

"Damn, what happened?" Harry asked.

Hermione smiled a tragic smile before answering. "Last chance," she said.

"Go on," Harry replied.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Oh well, here goes. Ronald said that despite my refusal to go out with him - because he wasn't you, he said - that I still couldn't let him be…. He accused me of `toying' with him. I told him that Cho was toying with him, not me, but I was never any more specific. I couldn't be. Then he swore at me…. Among other things, he called me a `meddling ball buster'…."

She heard Harry hiss audibly and saw his eyes fill with anger. "You asked…. It gets worse. He brought you into it."

"Me?" Harry echoed, his voice starting to rise. "Why? I actually encouraged him to see Cho. For one thing, it kept him away from you."

"Well, he's not thinking straight," Hermione went on. "No surprise there. He accused me of secretly wanting the both of you … I believe he said `boffing' … me at the same time. I don't, Harry. I never have….."

Harry's knuckles whitened as he gripped the knob on the classroom's door. His jaw muscles flexed from gritting his teeth. Hermione saw faint crackles of wild magic play around his unruly hair and between his fingertips.

"That's it!" Harry growled. A flick of the wrist and his wand was drawn. He started stalking back towards Gryffindor Tower - where Ron was still asleep.

"The Hell it is!" Hermione shrieked. She grabbed Harry's other arm with both hands and spun him around to face her. "You're staying right here until you calm down and admit you should never have asked me for details. Then we're going to comply with Dumbledore's summons."

"Hermione, he all but called you a slut," Harry grumbled. "And he deliberately did it when I wasn't there. Can you imagine the fight we'd have if I said anything like that about Cho? Which I've half a mind to tell him…."

"No, Harry! And I mean it!" Hermione howled. She put herself squarely between Harry and his intended destination. "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you. You know better than I!" More calmly she added, "You of all people must maintain control."

Her words were like a splash of cold water in his face. Since they became engaged, he had not had to use Occlumency. Harry inhaled deeply, and the magical tendrils dissipated.

Hermione grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him squarely on the lips. At first Harry did not reciprocate, but within seconds, resistance crumbled away. His hands went first to her waist and then cupped her rear….

"Meowr"

They jumped apart. Mrs. Norris was staring at them.

It was just as well. They had a meeting to attend.

"That was for being so angry at him on my behalf," she whispered as she took his hand and started them both down the corridor. "Now I needn't be so upset myself."

Harry was still visibly fuming. His eyes hard, he asked. "How did you hex him?"

"I was so angry, I went with the first thing that came to mind," Hermione said. "I sent birds after him…."

"Birds?"

"Yes. Canaries, I think, but I'm not sure. It could have been something else. He ran from the room howling, with those birds in hot pursuit. That's the last time we spoke, and until he apologises, I won't be speaking to him again. But Harry….?"

She understood the harsh expression on her fiancé's face.

"What?"

"I don't want to ruin your friendship with Ronald," she pleaded. "That's why I didn't want to tell you any of this. Will you promise me…?"

"Sorry but on this one, I can't promise anything," Harry refused. Seeing her crestfallen face, he added, "but I'll do the best I can."

"Your best has always been good enough for me," she relaxed as she took his hand. "Now let's go find out what Dumbledore wants."

Harry, Hermione, and Neville all assumed that the Headmaster had summoned them for last-minute preparation for the speeches they were to deliver at this afternoon's Order of Merlin investiture. Harry was speaking twice - once for the Order of Merlin winners and again in the ceremony eulogising Sirius. Hermione was speaking only during the Order of Merlin portion of the programme. Neville's short speech remembering war victims was something the Ministry insisted on adding to Sirius' eulogy, so that honouring the wrongly imprisoned man appeared less of a direct slap at prior Ministry actions than it was.

Revising their speeches, however, took all of ten minutes until the Headmaster pronounced himself satisfied.

"Now for the true reason I sent for you," he began, giving Harry a sly wink. "Mister Potter recently asked for some way to measure his power surges - to verify a theory of Miss Granger's. I made inquiry of trusted sources within the Ministry, and received an affirmative response. However, it proved difficult to assemble the necessary equipment in a felicitous location without arousing the suspicions of those who might do us - especially Mister Potter - ill."

Dumbledore then explained that all the additional security activity and other comings and goings that preparations for the Order of Merlin ceremony entailed had provided his contacts with the necessary cover. Thus, the greatly increased level of back-and-forth contact between the Ministry and Hogwarts had facilitated the movement of the right personnel and materiel into an appropriate location this morning.

"Come," Dumbledore directed. "We have no time to lose if we are to return before being missed."

"Excuse me, but why am I here?" asked Neville. "I have no clue what's going on."

"Mister Longbottom, your presence is as essential to this exercise's success as anyone else's," Dumbledore informed the boy. "You possess a memory that we need to ensure the likely success of the test. I say `likely' because no absolute guarantee of success exists in this sort of endeavour."

The explanation did not satisfy Neville, but since the Headmaster wanted him to stay, he stayed.

As they descended the Headmaster's staircase, Harry briefly thought they were going to the Chamber of Secrets. Instead, they left the Castle through a side door, where Hagrid attended the largest Hogwarts carriage - drawn by four Thestrals - that Harry had ever seen. Harry was surprised but not shocked to find Professor Kingsley Shacklebolt already occupying one of the seats.

"Good morning, Harry," the Defence professor greeted.

"Hi Shak," Harry responded informally, since they were not in class. "What's your part in all this?"

"For once I can tell you," Shak replied slowly. "The logistics of this operation are mine. We are taking you where you can be tested without risking a catastrophe."

"That is…?"

"Well, the Ministry thinks we are operating an observation point on Eagle's Mere, but between you and me, it's not just the ceremony we'll be observing."

They stopped talking as a number of other witches and wizards - presumably working for Dumbledore - piled in. the carriage passed through the Hogwarts anti-Apparition wards on its way to the deserted Hogsmeade train station. From there everyone except Neville Apparated to Eagle's Mere. Neville, who had yet to take an Apparition test, Side-Alonged with Shak.

Harry and Hermione thought about Side-Alonging, just to be together, but went separately after disagreeing about who should be the Alonger and who the Alongee.

Harry managed a (for him) rare steady landing. He gave Hermione, who arrived virtually simultaneously, a surprised look.

"What is it, Harry?" she predictably responded.

"Wow! That was … different," Harry commented. He wore a bemused expression, as if something significant lay just beyond his mind's reach.

"What's different?" Hermione whispered with interest. "You've been Apparating for months now."

"It felt different … better," Harry described breathlessly. "Whilst I still felt squeezed and stretched, it didn't seem like being squashed in a phone box full of other people."

"Well, you didn't Side-Along," Hermione pointed out.

"Doesn't matter," Harry replied. "It's always felt that way, whether Side-Alonging or by myself."

Hermione thought for a bit. "Harry, when did you last Apparate? Have you done it…?"

"…Since I blew up the valley?" Harry finished for her. "I don't think so. The last time I was here I came by Thestral."

Hermione looked concerned. "Do you think you might have been feeling…?"

"…Voldemort." Harry concluded bluntly. "Yeah, I do."

"Merlin, Harry, why didn't you say anything to anyone?" Hermione fretted.

"I didn't think to," Harry admitted. "Because it always felt that way, I assumed it was normal - just like not seeing the blackboard seemed normal before I had glasses."

`I think Dumbledore was on the mark about you having had a Horcrux inside you,' Hermione Legilimenced with a shudder.

"Over here, you two," came Shak's booming voice from somewhere just over the ridgeline. Engrossed in their unsettling new discovery, they had not appreciated where they were. They followed Shak's voice.

"I don't believe this!" gawked Neville, who joined them.

"Oh, sweet Merlin, this is awesome!" Hermione exclaimed upon reaching the top and viewing the magnificent scene of Hogwarts Lake and Castle, far below.

"Sure is," Harry agreed. "This view is why my parents wanted to be buried here."

"So this is the spot," Hermione mumbled to herself.

The view was also why the Ministry sought to have observers posted at this spot during the ceremony. Unfortunately, the three friends could enjoy the view only for a few moments before having to move on. On the far side of the crest, they stopped - confronted by a large concrete structure. From their angle, it looked like a half pyramid with one beveled edge pointing straight at them.

"Come around back," an unknown voice directed. They passed through a ward of some sort, and the scene before them changed dramatically.

Now they were in the midst of a construction site. A half-dozen wizards, maybe more, cast one spell after another, digging holes, creating berms, forming concrete, shaping rebar - generally making a wreck of had been a virtually pristine alpine meadow. Harry recognised some of them - the ones who called themselves "Smith" and "Johnson" from the Department of Mysteries, Gaston Mannock of the Auror Office, and two Aurors who had served on the initial Board of Inquiry, Clifton Branstone, and Theodora Doddinghurst.

Hermione also knew Branstone, and went to have a chat. Harry noticed Paracelsus Huxley conversing with Dumbledore and strolled over to have some questions answered.

"What's all this about?" he asked them.

"We're planning to put to rest any doubts about the source of your mysterious power," Hlr. Huxley told Harry. "Albus relayed your lady friend's hypothesis, and I devised what I believe is a definitive test."

"Is it safe?" Harry asked.

"Nothing is ever totally safe," Dumbledore answered. "Most of the work you see concerns safety precautions. Any test confirmatory of the Fifth Element must necessarily tap into that power, which carries a degree of risk. Everyone here is absolutely reliable - members of the Order and volunteers for this assignment. As extra security, they have agreed to be Obliviated once we finish."

"But Hermione and Neville," Harry pointed out. "I don't want them here if something might go wrong."

Overhead a gigantic, hollow, horizontal shaft, poured from reinforced concrete, was being Levitated into place. The shaft glinted in the early morning sunlight, reflecting a series of flashes whilst being pivoted into place. It appeared to be lined on the inside with mirror bright Shield Charms.

"Mister Longbottom has something essential to contribute," the Headmaster commented enigmatically. "As for Miss Granger, do you recall your summer reading concerning nuclear power?"

"Not sure," Harry answered, wary of anything Dumbledore might want Hermione to do.

"Miss Granger needs to be present should anything go wrong," the Headmaster informed Harry. "Indeed, her presence should greatly reduce the likelihood of any such accident. Should you, for whatever reason, to `go critical,' as it were, her function is to act as a control rod."

"If something might happen, I don't want her here!" Harry replied more hotly.

"I believe that I have some say in this, Harry," came Hermione's voice from behind. "Healer Huxley has just explained to me what's to happen and why, and I believe I need to be here - both for you and for myself."

"But, Hermione…."

She was in front of him now, her hands on her hips. Looking him straight in the eye, she told him, "No buts, Harry, on this score, my mind's made up."

"But you know what happened the last time."

"So do you, and as long as I'm here, I'm confident you won't let it happen again."

"There's nothing I can do to change your…?"

"…not on this one, Harry."

By the time Harry and Hermione had worked out their differences, the rest of the huge apparatus had been enlarged, and installed. Harry peered through the newly erected, metre-wide and thick concrete crenel and saw the same old-fashioned copper steam boiler used in his first Auror test. Although Harry's memory was inexact, the device seemed enlarged several times over and placed several times farther away. Hermione, who was also tested on the boiler, was certain it had absorbed a substantial Engorgio charm.

Kingsley and "Smith" from the Department of Mysteries explained that they had deliberately chosen the same apparatus because, first, it was familiar and, second, because Harry had already been calibrated, which saved time. They fitted Harry with the same mysterious black box device used previously, placed him at exactly three times the former distance, and told him to use the exact same spell.

Headmaster Dumbledore reappeared, holding a phial of smoky memory. "I have returned Mister Longbottom to the castle," he told Harry. "His presence is no longer required." The Headmaster moved to the crenel, which, Harry now noticed had a round indentation in its base. Unlike the rest of the structure, which was raw concrete, this basin was finished in smooth off-white stone. When Dumbledore emptied the contents of the phial into it, Harry realised it was a pre-installed Penseive.

"How much time do we have?" the Headmaster asked someone Harry had never met. The middle-aged witch was operating what looked like a Foeglass hooked to a pair of large divining rods.

"Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen tops, before the island's wards must go back up," she reported in businesslike fashion, never taking her eyes from the screen. "A Norwegian cruise ship is approaching from the northwest at about twelve knots, and a Yank submarine, San Juan class, I think, is moving essentially due south at a depth of about 100 metres. It's accelerating from twenty-seven knots."

"Very well, let us begin, then," Dumbledore said to everybody, and nobody, at the same time.

"Harry," the Headmaster instructed, "on my count of three, please commence the Celsio spell through the crenel, aiming at the boiler, as at Auror Candidate School. Once your magic is focused, I shall cause an image you have never before seen to arise from the Pensieve. I anticipate that you will find it disturbing, as do I. I remind you, it is a mere memory, and not a present event. If your response to the image is what we expect, the power of your spell should involuntarily spike. The device on your hip will measure the spike's degree and duration."

"Upon my signal, Miss Granger will instruct you to halt. From the recorded results, we should be able to extrapolate your magic's power curve. Our Department of Mysteries contingent believes that, if you graph exponentially, a power plot sufficiently along the line would be unique to the Fifth Element. In that event, we can be reasonably certain what we are dealing with."

"What's this with extrapolating?" Harry asked, annoyed by the Headmaster's hypertechnical language. "I you must think I'm rather clever, but that's stretching it."

"It's the maths," Hermione whispered in his ear. "It means…. Well, taking your earlier test results, they want to add another point - today's test. An outlier involving the you-know-what would plot a particular pattern. They can check if that squared number we discussed before, is sufficiently large."

Harry sighed deeply. He accepted the test's necessity, but really wished Hermione would leave for her own safety. Still, he understood her position. Not only had she deduced the likely (and if Hermione believed it, it was likely) nature of the Fifth Element, but she had the best chance of keeping him under control.

Following directions, he commenced Celsio. His magic was noticeably stronger, and he heard steam whistling from the boiler within seconds. Within the same few seconds, however, the boiler became a distant memory. An image rose before him, like some macabre heads-up display….

He saw Hermione, her bushy hair disheveled, lying on a plain white-sheeted bed. She wore her ordinary student uniform, without outer robes. Her face was almost as pale as her surroundings. She was absolutely still - fear clearly evident in her far-away looking eyes.

Suddenly her back arched as she screamed, "HARRY!!! DOOONNN'TTTTT BEEEEEEEAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!"

In a trice hot pink and violent violet flames engulfed Hermione's now writhing figure. Nearby objects that Harry had ignored in his focus on her detonated instantly, hurling jagged pieces in all directions….

Harry screamed, "Heerrmmiiiooooonnneeeeee!!!"

The red glow of Harry's magic, passing from his wand to the boiler, expanded volcanically into a roiling, fiery crimson, conic-shaped torrent almost too bright to look at.

"PROTEGO PHYSICA!" Dumbledore roared. "Now, Miss Granger!"

The boiler exploded with great force, violently disintegrating under the force of Harry's now almost unrecognisably powerful spell. Bits of its red-hot and razor-sharp shrapnel pelted the Headmaster's hastily cast Shield Charm.

"STOP, HARRY!!"

Hermione rushed forward, grabbed Harry and forced his wand arm upwards until it pointed into the gaping hole in the near end of the massive tube suspended overhead. "It's over, Harry!" she yelled at him. "STOP!"

As Hermione shoved his arm, Harry's fulminating magic scorched and scored the underside of the concrete structure until aimed into the provided-for opening. A brilliant bright red burst of indeterminate magic reflected off the internal mirrors and flared out the tube's end. Streaking towards the north-northwest, it instantaneously vanished over the horizon.

Then it was over.

Harry stood trembling in Hermione's arms - flushed, perspiring, and breathing heavily. Hlr. Huxley checked the boy's vital signs. Dumbledore cast an A Priori Charm to restore the boiler to as close to its prior condition as magically possible, given its present state.

Johnson from Mysteries stepped forward to remove the paperback book-sized monitor from Harry's side. He almost dropped it. The monitor was extremely hot to the touch.

A noticeably relieved Headmaster approached the pair.

"What now?" Harry asked.

"Our friends promise full results in a couple of days," he told Harry whilst smoothing his beard with his injured hand. "But I suspect you can guess the diagnosis."

* * * *

The six honourees anxiously cooled their heels in the Ceremonial Library awaiting their Flooed summons. Harry was resplendent in shining golden robes - worn by holders of the Order of Merlin second class. Ron, Hermione, and the rest were in the brilliantly purple robes of third class Order winners. Such robes were exclusive to formal Order of Merlin occasions.

Six heads turned as the green fire in the Floo flashed. Professor McGonagall's distinctive visage appeared in the fire. "It's time," she said in her clipped brogue. "Please come through in the proper order."

They lined up. Harry first, since the whole near-debacle-turned-mostly-triumph had been his idea. Ron was next. That position had been quite contentious, but eventually Hermione tired of him acting "childish" and allowed him the second spot.

Neville followed. Originally, Hermione had been third due to her successful ruse that turned the tables on Madam Umbridge. But after her latest fight with Ron, she decided she would rather sit elsewhere than beside him for what promised to be a long ceremony. Thus, Neville took his place between the two fallen-out friends.

As a measure of how frosty Hermione's relationship with Ron had become, she did not attempt to reclaim either of the two previous positions, even after the first rehearsal brought home to her that the new order of presentation was sex segregated - all the males being honoured before any of the females.

This time, she just did not care enough.

Thus, Hermione was fourth. Of all the participants, her situation was the most delicate. This time, she was not just ghost-writing for Harry. He might be lousy at composing speeches, but Reims and the D.A. revealed his natural gift at delivering them.

For the first time, Hermione was speaking for herself before a wizard audience. This audience would pay at least as close attention to her words as to Harry's. Many in profoundly conservative wizard society found her views on issues such as house-elves radical. She was the brilliant outsider, Muggle-born, and now romantically involved with an extremely rich and famous wizard. Her closeness to Harry, and thus to the inherent power of the confluence of the Black and Potter inheritances, made many in the audience uneasy.

Behind Hermione came the two younger witches. Ginny exemplified Weasley traits of hot-headedness and impulsivity. She had been essential to the enterprise being honoured, since she had led the Gryffindors' successful uprising against the Inquisitorial Squad.

Luna, looking bemused at the effort going into "proceedings in honour of an accident," as she viewed matters, brought up the rear. Neither had a speaking part - no doubt to the Ministry's relief.

The six emerged into a generously proportioned white-walled marquee tent behind the awards box. Investitures of new members, technically being meetings of the Order of Merlin, were occasions for all prior Order winners to gather. Knowing that was one thing. First-hand exposure to a conclave of the true elite of British wizardry was quite another. Everywhere, they saw robes similar to their own - purple robes interspersed with occasional gold. Looking in the right place at the right time, they could catch a glimpse of a set of shimmering silver robes that befitted the sole holder of the Order of Merlin, first class.

Before soon-to-be peers could descend upon soon-to-be Order members, Professor McGonagall shepherded the six to a holding area. "Ronnie, dear! Ginny! Harry!" Molly Weasley gave suffocating hugs to all of the inductees, even Luna, whom Molly knew fairly well from years as almost neighbors.

Molly's hug for Hermione was noticeably less enthusiastic. Evidently, Ron mentioned his differences with Hermione to his mum.

"You look great," Hermione offered diplomatically as the Weasley matriarch fussed over the six, adjusting the sleeves of Ron's robes, touching up Ginny's hair with little spells here and there, and making sure Neville knew where his Gran would be sitting.

"It's not every day that a mother has two children both inducted into the Order of Merlin, dear," Molly replied with a smile that died before reaching her eyes.

`She does look better than any time since Bill died,' Hermione Legilimenced to Harry.

"Mum, you'd best finding your seat," instructed another unmistakable voice. "I'll take over from here." Looking terminally dapper in elegant Ministry formal robes, Percy Weasley strode into the holding area. His appearance, along with the steady emptying of the now mostly deserted marquee, signified the imminent commencement of the ceremony.

"Just follow me out," Percy the Protocol Chief reminded Harry. "The rest of you, follow Harry. The seating is just as rehearsed, except for the fancy carpets and such. Oh, yes, and Harry - I trust this time you'll leave the autocue well enough alone…."

At first, Harry thought the last comment a joke - Percy's bureaucratic way of trying to relieve everyone's last-minute jitters. But the way the former Head Boy kept staring at Harry made him realise it was a serious request.

"Sure, no problem," Harry eventually replied.

Percy's wand tip glowed yellow. "Let's get this broom in the air," he said, and stepped through the front flaps of the marquee, the six inductees in tow.

A fanfare sounded. As Harry walked, blinking, into full daylight, he suppressed a gasp at the transformation of the Quidditch Pitch. Multicoloured ministry pennants flew everywhere against the plain white of a high overcast sky - typical of Scotland in late autumn. The Honours Box hung in midair from the goalposts nearest the Gryffindor locker room. At some three metres above ground level, the box was supported more by magic than the goals.

Making his way to his seat, Harry passed a low brocade-covered table where he saw the actual Order of Merlin medals for the first time. They lay in a row, one pure gold followed by five bright silver medallions.

Across the aisle, Harry saw Albus Dumbledore, the only living wearer of the Order of Merlin, First Class, a satisfied smile on the old man's face. The Headmaster sat resplendent in his glittering ceremonial robes, with the medal itself - fiery and prismatic - lying across his bosom. To avoid detracting from his students' accomplishment, Dumbledore had insisted upon receiving the bar for his own decoration (an almost unprecedented feat in itself) in a private ceremony several days earlier.

The ordinarily grassy pitch was completely covered with various carpets and slate-paved walkways. Atop them were dozens of arcing rows of seats to accommodate not just previously decorated Order winners, but dignitaries, family, friends, and the entire Hogwarts staff and student body. There was even a section - with correspondingly smaller chairs - for a contingent from the Goblin Nation. Whilst Dumbledore could require the goblins to stay away from the Castle under what passed for normal conditions, to bar them from this ceremony would have provoked a serious breach in the alliance.

Harry knew that, in many ways, Ron had always been jealous of him. As Harry took in the expansive crowd, with more wizards in one place than since the Quidditch World Cup, he could not help his own jealous feelings towards the redhead beside him. The relatives' seating area was crammed to bursting with Weasleys of every size and description. With two of their number ascending to one of Wizarding Britain's highest honours, every Weasley second cousin, nephew, aunt, and great uncle had come to witness the event.

Longbottoms were not as prolific as Weasleys, but still Neville had a fair number of blood relatives present.

So did Luna.

Harry, by contrast, had almost nobody. Mad-Eye Moody made his appearance, to be sure - seated by himself in his purple robes, with a third class Order medal (and a bar) hanging from his chest. Still, he was an appointed guardian. The only blood relative of Harry's in attendance was a great aunt who was quite barmy and needed to be watched, mostly by Hagrid, so she did not wander off. With Voldemort's decimation of the Potter clan in the First War, old Edna Potter was the only Potter relative mental enough to make her existence public.

Poor Hermione was even worse off. With her Muggle father a fugitive and her Muggle mother in Australia, her moment in the sun was attended by exactly nobody. The relatives' area provided for her as of right was embarrassingly deserted. Harry had never felt as sorry for Hermione as he did at that moment.

Then, at the last minute, a minor disturbance fluttered through the crowd. Witches and wizards were reacting as if something were not quite right.

The crowd parted, and Harry saw Dobby.

And Dobby was not alone. He and Winky led a contingent of Hogwarts and Blackwalls house-elves to Hermione's empty section. Together they filled all ten seats that represented the minimum relatives' allotment.

As that happened, Harry leaned forward and looked over at Hermione. Emotion was plainly visible in her face. This unexpected gesture of solidarity from the house-elves was causing her eyes to redden and tear. She looked at Harry and Legilimenced, `I love Dobby.' Harry nodded in agreement.

A second fanfare sounded, and the band, located just out of sight of those in the Honours Box, launched into Pride of Magic, the wizarding national anthem. Everyone - even Luna - stood until the last strains of the closing stanza had faded away.

The Headmaster was the first speaker. He strode confidently to the rostrum, but Harry could see more than a mere patina of age. He had to carry his notes solely in his left hand, as his blackened right one was essentially useless. And he used notes - a first. Harry could not remember a time Dumbledore had not spoken from memory.

Dumbledore offered another of his homilies about light and dark, right and wrong, and loyalty and friendship. It was standard fare, but still reasonably inspiring. His speech was unusual in only one respect. Dumbledore took care to refer to "Voldemort" and even "Tom Riddle" on a number of occasions - making many, even prior Order winners, wince. One of the first times he did so, the Headmaster turned and gave Harry just a bit of a wink. He was consciously clearing the way for future speakers to call Voldemort by his real name.

After Dumbledore came a number of Ministry dignitaries, all of whom seemed compelled to say more than a few words. The last of these was Minister Scrimgeour. Unlike Fudge (who was also in attendance), Scrimgeour was not much of a self-promoter. Harry had not known, until seeing the man rise, that Scrimgeour held the Order of Merlin, Second Class.

Minister Scrimgeour gave a characteristically fiery, if vague, oration about the importance of fighting Death Eaters wherever they might be found - so that never again would "volunteer heroes" such as Harry be forced to fight them inside institutions (such as the Ministry of Magic) where such evil had "no business showing its ugly face."

Harry winced when the Minister, embellishing upon the first Quibbler story, also praised him for a "valiant fight against enormous odds" prior to his kidnapping. That had been a cover story - a totally invented engagement that served as a fictitious lead into his kidnapping and the consequent destruction of a goodly part of Muggle London.

The actual awards followed these sundry speeches. Minister Scrimgeour read aloud the bombastically-worded proclamation originally composed and announced by his predecessor. Then, starting with Harry, each of the six was called up individually to have the Minister personally drape the medal around his or her neck and to receive an outsized hug and pat on the back. Taking their cues from Harry's compliant lead, they all tried to maintain the dignity of the occasion.

All except Ron.

Walking back to his seat after receiving his medal, Ron stopped, raised his arms over his head, and gave his relatives and the Hogwarts student section a double thumbs up. His gesture prompted a loud ovation.

Each gave the Minister his photo opportunities - until the last.

Rather than put up with being pawed by the Minister, Luna stopped at arms length and held out her hand. For a long moment Scrimgeour looked at her as if her long hair - woven into beribboned pigtails for the occasion - had Transfigured into writhing snakes. Luna stood with her overly large eyes slightly crossed until Scrimgeour finally acquiesced and handed her the medal. Luna calmly placed it around her own neck and then offered her hand for the Minister to shake. Not wishing to create a scene, and lacking any other option, Minister Scrimgeour accepted the handshake.

Luna grinned broadly all the way back to her seat.

Once the medals had been distributed, Harry spoke. He largely stuck to the themes that he and Hermione had developed in Reims. Harry told the assembled crowd what he considered to be the truth. He had certainly not intended any heroics, and mostly had not intended anything at all. He journeyed to the Ministry under the false impression that someone he loved was endangered. He had tried his best to dissuade the others from accompanying him. They refused to stay behind, and thus were far more brave and selfless than he was.

The lesson of the Ministry was actually that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were anything but invincible. Harry had concluded that, aside from their ruthlessness, many Death Eaters were only marginally competent wizards. The Death Eaters' well-known atrocities were no strength - only an effort at using fear to conceal magical skills that were anything but overwhelming.

Harry finished with the sort of rhetorical flourish that Hermione so liked writing for him.

So as you see us today, don't wonder how we did it. Consider instead your own ability to do the same thing in similar circumstances, because you, each and every one of you, is capable. Your powers are greater than you think - just as mine turned out to be. The future is what we all make of it. Dark magic triumphs only when good wizards fear to oppose it. United, we cannot be defeated.

Thank you for listening.

Applause drowned out Harry's finishing words. It was not as overwhelming or unexpected as at Reims - much yelling and foot stomping amongst Weasley relations and Hogwarts students (other than Slytherins), but otherwise the reception was best described as "correct." Then, again, after his performance en français, Harry now simply lived up to expectations rather than coming across as shockingly eloquent.

Hermione followed. She received a syrupy sweet introduction delivered by Charlotte Scrimgeour, the Minister's wife. Hermione stepped to the podium with butterflies the size of fruit bats beating away in her stomach.

Just so she would remember that he supported her, Harry cast a light Cheering Charm over her as she passed, and Legilimenced, `Show them what you're made of.'

She did precisely that.

When I left for the Ministry on a night that now seems so long ago, I had no idea that it would lead to anything like this. I didn't go because of `outstanding bravery' or `unparalleled courage' as it says on my certificate. No, I went because I was afraid. I was afraid that Harry was being tricked by Voldemort. I couldn't stop him, so I decided that if this would be the end, I would share his fate. Harry has a knack for eliciting this kind of self-sacrifice. I wasn't the only one who went.

The trap was worse than my worst fears. Once the Death Eaters surrounded us, I honestly expected that we would all die. The feeling of imminent death stayed with me until I awoke in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing the next morning. I was frankly surprised to be alive.

In between, I learnt just how much a witch can do after she meets her fate - as long as she refuses to accept it. Even though we all despaired of seeing the next day, we ignored our despair. Instead of accepting fate, we fought back. We learned an extraordinarily powerful lesson that evening. Nobody can make you surrender except yourself. Never give up, no matter how long the odds.

It was magic.

And magic is powerful.

As anyone can see from how many relatives I have attending this ceremony - that being none - all of my family are Muggles. My parents have no idea what I experienced that night at the Ministry, and if they did, they'd want to remove me from this world immediately.

They've tried before. I wouldn't let them.

That's because I am magical. Your world is my world now. How I came to be blessed with this gift, nobody can say. It's a question that both intrigues and terrifies my Muggle parents.

For magic is amazing, truly amazing.

Muggles like my parents perceive maybe 5% of the universe. Only we whom magic has graced can reach the rest of creation beyond any Muggle's grasp. That doesn't mean Muggles aren't clever. They know there's more out there than meets their eyes. They just don't know what. Magic is simply beyond most Muggles' comprehension.

Dimly aware of the magical power that swirls around all of us, the Muggles call it "dark" - Dark Matter. Dark Energy. Even quintessence … quinnnn-tessence….

Hermione took an unrehearsed pause, turned and gave Harry a quick glance. She returned to her prepared, thoroughly memorised text.

We know better. We're taught from our first year at Hogwarts that magic is neither light nor dark. The difference between Dark and Light magic is choice, not destiny. Our choices define us, not our ancestry. None of Hogwarts' four Houses is inherently evil; none is necessarily good. We are the sum of the choices that we make.

Which means, magic is also responsibility.

I made a choice when I went to the Ministry. I chose not the path of a hero. The Order of Merlin was the furthest thing from my mind. I made a choice to help my friends, especially Harry, who feared for someone he loved. I chose love.

Choices have consequences, often unknowable when the choice must be made. The memorial part of this programme is testament to that.

We all have choices to make. Even not choosing is a choice. I made a choice …, and I ended up here. Starting as a Muggle-born misfit, I find myself wearing the Order of Merlin. Sometimes I feel like I'm the luckiest witch on the face of the Earth.

Thank you for having me.

Hermione's speech received generous applause, although not as much as Harry's, or even the Minister's. Hers was a presentation to ponder, not a clarion call. Hermione - when speaking for herself - was that way. Rather than answers, she posed questions.

As Hermione was seated, the band struck up another tune, more sombre than the previous martial music. This was the transition to the memorial portion of the programme, and to the send off of Sirius Black that Harry (goaded by Remus Lupin) negotiated with the Ministry.

Neville would speak next, presenting a five-minute valedictory to his recently deceased, but much longer gone, parents. The Longbottoms represented the fallen of both the first and second Voldemort wars.

Barely seconds into the music Harry noticed the Headmaster, looking grave, move forward. He leant over the Minister's chair and began speaking in hushed tones. Not fifteen seconds later, he saw the interim Chief Auror, Dawlish (Harry did not know his first name), rush forward to join the two in conversation.

Something was definitely happening - something serious and (from the looks on their faces) unfortunate.

Harry rose to his feet and took two steps in their direction until Dumbledore emphatically waved him back. Harry returned to his seat, noticing anxious flutterings throughout the audience.

"What do you reckon?" Ron whispered to Harry - contributing his bit to the rising buzz of the crowd.

Not sure whether he would get to deliver his speech, Neville looked on, worry plain on his face.

"My guess is that the Death Eaters did something," Harry speculated fatalistically. "Could we expect them just to let something like this happen without trying to disrupt it…."

Everyone went silent as Dumbledore stood up, his wand in his good hand. Instead of saying anything, the Headmaster conjured a Patronus. A pale peacock shot from his wand and headed out over the field.

"Oh bloody Hell," Ron blurted, less quietly. "That looks like it's headed for Dad."

"Harry," hissed Ginny, who had crept up behind the boys, "go find out what's going on. I don't like this at all."

Before Harry could move, however, the Minister took the podium. Dumbledore hurried back to the tent behind them and immediately vanished from sight.

"Witches and wizards in attendance, and everyone listening on WWN, I have just been informed of Death Eater activity in at least two locations in Britain. They have attacked the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, where I understand they were driven off with considerably heavier losses than they inflicted. They have also attacked Ottery St. Catchpole, where a pitched battle is now raging at the Weasley Compound…."

Harry, Ron, and Ginny jumped to their feet at that news, but were met by silvery Patroni - each in the form of a weasel and carrying an identical message: "You must stay here. Do not give You Know Who the satisfaction of stopping this ceremony. Charlie, the Twins and I, along with several of your uncles, aunts, and cousins will handle this."

Thus commanded by Arthur Weasley, in a voice that brooked no opposition, the three sat back down. The Minister was still speaking.

"…stay here and complete this ceremony. All Aurors are called to general quarters and are to report in accordance with Emergency Mobilisation Plan Number Two. Headmaster Dumbledore will soon be lowering the Hogwarts Apparition barriers for exactly one minute to facilitate your exit. Anyone else who feels compelled to leave may do so at that time."

No wizard commanded the goblins, however. A group of them shifted into their grey boulder shapes and bounded across the space between their section and the Honours Box. They rolled to a stop in a straight line immediately beneath the box - and stayed there - a line of defence, if needed.

A brilliant red light illuminated the uppermost tip of the Astronomy Tower.

"That's the signal," Scrimgeour declared. "Apparate now or stay seated."

Apparition pops resounded throughout the assembled crowd. The rest of the goblins disappeared, as well, into the ground through a mirror-like surface that vanished after them.

For a moment, Harry considered disobeying the elder Weasley's directive. His realisation that neither Ron nor Ginny could Apparate, combined with Hermione's definitive, `don't even think about it, Harry,' Legilimenced message, put a quick stop to that half-baked idea.

After some quick instructions to his deputies, the Minister strode determinedly towards the award winners.

"What now?" Harry asked him. All the others had the same thought.

"We shall continue," Minister Scrimgeour gruffly announced. "I'll be damned if I'll give in to the Deaters. These proceedings will be completed, come Hell or high magic. Nothing short of Voldemort showing his ugly mug on this field will stop us. We will have to take things slightly out of order, however…."

"I don't need to speak," Neville choked out. "We can keep things on schedule."

"The hell you don't," Scrimgeour growled back, looking more leonine than usual. "You've lost as much to those bastards as anyone here, so you're speaking for more than yourself. You'll just go after the flyby rather than before. That way the aerial squad can be on their way as quickly as possible to provide reinforcements as needed."

The red light on the Astronomy Tower was extinguished, indicating that the Castle's wards had returned to full power.

"You six and me, stand together," the Minister commanded. "We lost the Honour Guard to the mobilisation, so we'll just replace it ourselves. After the flyby, on my signal, three wand bursts - first red, then blue, then white."

Scrimgeour sent his lion Patronus to the band leader, and almost immediately fanfares sounded. The first chords blended into another and then another as the band shifted from one fanfare to the next.

After less than a half-minute of this impromptu musical vamping for time, Minister Scrimgeour pointed his wand to the west and shot green sparks into the sky.

Sweeping in from the western horizon came the same grouping of broom riders that Harry recognised from the Longbottoms' funeral in August - only now numbering seven, rather than fourteen. As before, they approached at high speed and low altitude. As before their Valkyries trailed magical smoke representing the colours of the Muggle and Ministry flags.

This time, however, the manœuvre was different. At the precise moment that the formation passed over the assembled (if somewhat depleted) crowd, the "missing man" rider pulled his broom straight up and shot upwards at full speed. In his wake, he left a puff of dark green, almost black smoke. In almost no time, he was lost to sight.

At the same instant, the smoke trailing behind the remaining six fliers changed colour to intense scarlet. Each rider executed an intricate high-speed figure eight, passing twice through the much darker smoke in the centre. Then, their broom smoke extinguished, the six fliers sped away in six different directions. As they vanished, their bright red curlicues of smoke magically filled themselves in.

Thus, the fliers left behind a gigantic, stylised poppy hovering over the Quidditch Pitch. Magically held together, the smoky formation persisted despite a mild but steady breeze.

Even the least Muggle exposed wizard in the crowd understood that symbolism. Neville, for his part, was so overcome that he missed his cue. Hermione had to push him to his feet just in time to participate in the 21-wand salute offered by the Minister and the six Order of Merlin winners.

After Neville's stumbling beginning in the hastily improvised replacement honour guard, Hermione was concerned that he would have difficulty with his speech. She was pleasantly surprised. With the aid of the autocue, Neville fought his way through his five-minute paean to everyone who had died in the two Voldemort wars - especially his own parents.

Harry was half listening to what Neville was saying when, suddenly, Hermione was in his head. `Harry, I just had a thought, and I'm worried,' she Legilimenced.

`If it's about the Burrow, don't be,' Harry likewise replied. `I'm sure things are already under control, what with the number of Aurors who Apparated out of here.'

`I'm not worried about that, I'm worried about you,' she sent back. `What if the Death Eaters didn't plan on attacking Order headquarters…?'

`Of course they did. Both Dumbledore and Scrimgeour confirmed it,' Harry answered. He became momentarily distracted by Neville referring to James and Lily.

`I don't mean that,' Hermione persisted. `I mean, what if they thought they were attacking my house? The Death Eaters don't exactly include Muggle title searches in their planning.'

Harry answered, `If they attacked your house….'

`…They could be attacking yours as well,' she finished for him, `either Privet Drive or Grimmauld Place.'

`Grimmauld wouldn't be much of a loss, frankly,' Harry shrugged. `But I'll bring it up with Dumbledore before I start my speech about Sirius.'

That opportunity arrived soon enough, once Neville concluded his remarks and was seated. An amazed look played on Neville's face - as if he could not believe what he had just done.

Having memorised the programme, Harry rose, took a deep breath, and stepped forward. It was show time for him again.

Already, the Headmaster had returned from his brief detour to manipulate the Castle's wards. Harry turned to him and asked, "Hermione raised a serious point. What if the Death Eaters thought they were attacking her house, not Order Headquarters? Could they be attacking all six of us like they did over the Holidays?"

"Mister Potter, I had the same thought," Dumbledore answered. "I have checked and confirmed that the blood magic protection…."

A whooshing noise overhead distracted Harry. Like a blur, the "missing man" flier shot downwards and back into everyone's sight, performing one of the longest Wronski Feints ever attempted. He pierced clean through the dark center of the smoky poppy that remained overhead. Trailing greenish smoke, he brought his speeding broom horizontal, flashed over the Honours Box, and flew through a tripwire extending between the Quidditch goalposts.

Harry realised that, with the delay caused by the Death Eater attack, he probably should have waited until after the fireworks display and musical memorial to Sirius before trying to speak.

With loud reports drowning out anything else, Harry turned to watch the show. He was not disappointed. Gigantic Roman candles spouted from the two outer goal posts. The left side shot a constant stream of red, white, and blue Muggle colours into the sky. The right side did the same with the remaining wizard colours - silver, black, gold, and green. Between the erupting fountains a huge white smoky membrane edged in black took shape. Already the first portrait was forming within it.

The description Harry had heard of the pyrotechnic display did not do it justice. Not until feeling a persistent tapping to the side of his head did Harry notice another small, gold-covered box hanging beneath a golden parachute - just like he received at the Longbottom funeral.

This time the note read, "Still got your back. Teach her to fly for me." Again, it was signed "Mannock."

Another loud boom burst from the display. An erupting tourbillion accompanied the dissolution of the joint portrait of Gideon and Fabian Prewett and its replacement with a collage of the Aurors killed in Cornwall on 14 July of this year.

And so it went. Framed by the continual bursts from the Roman candles that flanked them, portrait after portrait of Death Eater victims from both the first and second wars flashed before the onlooking crowd. Replacement of each portrait by the next included an aerial starburst of some sort.

Harry knew how it would end. After what seemed like an eternity, pyrotechnics ceased and the misty image of his godfather began to take shape on the screen.

As that happened, Harry's ears heard mournful bagpipe music - a song that he knew but could not name. At first he thought it was just in his head, complementing the ringing in his ears from all the loud fireworks. Gradually, Harry realised that, in fact, the music sounded from the field behind him. He turned and saw a lone kilted piper, his right leg supported by a self-walking crutch, limping across the grass. Hovering in midair, an object preceded the piper's slow but steady approach….

Harry had never been told exactly what the second musical interlude entailed. He assumed another presentation by the Ministry band.

His assumption had never been so wrong.

Harry's eyes almost popped out of his head when he recognised the piper.

"Remus," slipped involuntarily from his lips.

And so it was. Remus Lupin, whom Harry had not seen in weeks, conducted his very public - yet also very private - memorial to Sirius. He wore full Highland piper's regalia, from the top of his diced glengarry bonnet down to the soles of his ghillie brogues.

Now Harry knew why everyone - even Hermione - had played dumb whenever he had inquired about this portion of the programme.

It was all Harry could do not to jump the rail and run to the side of the man whom he thought was still confined to some a secure sickroom. This was, however, a solemn occasion. Any childish display of emotions would spoil the memorial to Sirius that both of them, in their own way, had tried to make perfect.

So Harry stood there, transfixed, whilst the still obviously ailing lycanth worked the pipes to their fullest nine-note capabilities.

All too soon, the last wailing strains of "The Battle Is Over" droned across the hushed pitch. Leaving his pipes Levitated in midair, Remus reached into the burnished leather sporran that hung at his waist, and extracted a small container. He approached the other object hovering before him. Looking more closely, Harry recognised the same Pensieve in which he had experienced his godfather's memory of what had happened exactly fifteen years prior to this day.

The Pensieve still held the memories that Sirius had deposited shortly before he died.

Remus poured a powdery substance into the Pensieve.

Limping back two steps, Remus drew his wand. With a flash of magic, a fountain of fire leapt from the Pensieve. Sirius' last earthly remains were cremated in a puff of white smoke.

Heartbeats before this happened, Harry anticipated what Remus intended. Feverishly, Harry jumped to his feet and bade the rest of his five friends to follow. Still, they needed a seventh. Harry wheeled around, and his eyes fell on the Dumbledore.

Sirius might only be receiving the Order of Merlin Third Class, but Harry wanted him to have a send off worthy of the sacrifice his godfather had actually made.

Harry nodded to the Headmaster, wordlessly entreating him.

Just as wordlessly, Dumbledore nodded to Harry and stood.

"As before, but on my signal," Harry called out. He then led the Headmaster and his five peers in another three-round, twenty-one wand salute - this time specifically in Sirius' memory.

By the time they had finished, Remus had regathered his bagpipes. A simple, yet appropriate melody of "Amazing Grace" filled the silence that otherwise fell across the assemblage.

The song gave Harry a needed pause to collect his thoughts and to prepare to speak. Remus' appearance and what had followed had wrung the full gamut of emotions from the boy - from transcendent joy to abject grief - and he needed to regain his mental footing.

Approaching the podium following the end of Remus' performance, Harry simply jettisoned his prepared remarks.

"Sirius Black was my godfather, but he was more than that," he began. "He was the closest thing to a real father I've ever had. But he was even more. He was also the most courageous and determined person I've known. Although you've mostly read what's been written in the papers, I want to - I need to - tell you his story as I know it in my own words…."

Harry launched into a brief biography of Sirius Pepys Black, beginning with his befriending the other Marauders and continuing with sordid tale of betrayal and false imprisonment.

Harry recounted Sirius' escape from Azkaban, their reunion, and his two-year interlude as both a fugitive and father figure.

"…And that's how he died in battle - the way he would have wanted if given a choice," Harry concluded. "Whether he was alive or dead when he fell through the Veil of Death, in a Ministry that would have executed him had it known, will always remain a mystery."

"He died a hero, and for that Sirius is honoured here today. But to me, heroism is almost beside the point. For me, he remains the only man that I have ever been able to call `Dad.'"

With that, Harry sat down - his pulse pounding in his ears, and his mind otherwise a blank. His eulogy for Sirius garnered significantly greater applause than had his earlier speech on behalf of himself, but Harry barely heard anything. The Castle's strong wards were a good thing, because Harry was in no shape whatever to defend himself at that moment.

The remainder of the programme - primarily Kingsley's speech formally awarding the Order of Merlin to a man who had spent most of the last third of his life in Azkaban - passed in a blur.

* * * *

Neither had to inquire. It was understood. Once the Order of Merlin investiture concluded with yet another display of wizard pyrotechnics, Harry and Remus sought each other out in the marquee behind the now-deserted reviewing stand. It was a conversation in which "how are you?" was not just a formality.

"Frankly, I'm surprised Wormtail didn't kill me straight away," Remus mused. "He certainly had the chance. Even as it was, things were touch and go. I got lucky. I couldn't have been out five minutes when the Aurors showed up."

"There's that crutch," Harry observed. "You're still limping."

"The Healers say it'll heal," Remus explained. "It's nerve damage. Just broken bones, and I'd have been back to scratch in a day or so, but old Wormy must have clipped me in the back with that hand of his. Broke my spine. That's why the Aurors' quick arrival was fortunate. If I'd been lying there another fifteen minutes, or worse if I'd come to and injured myself further, I'd now be paralysed for life."

"And the eye patch?" Harry gestured at the other noticeable souvenir of Remus' Death Eater encounter.

"Permanent, I'm afraid," Remus sighed. "Silver overexposure, I've been told. I can't say I'm surprised. He battered me pretty good about the face before I went down."

"How bad is it?" Harry asked with genuine concern.

"I was as blind as a Dementor for the first week," Remus recounted, shaking his head just a bit. "The Healers were good. They managed to save the right one completely. Wormtail was always better to his left. But the left one? It tests about twenty-one hundred right now, and they honestly don't think it'll ever improve to less than twenty-seventy."

Harry exhaled audibly. "That's better than I thought, looking at you. Why wear that bloody thing, anyway? Glasses aren't all that bad. I've been stuck with them all my life…."

"Right," Remus replied, looking amused. "A bespectacled werewolf. Now that's something that'd really go over well in lycanth circles. I can just hear Fenrir laughing now…."

Harry was taken slightly aback. "Well, it was just a thought."

"I'm sure you meant nothing by it, but it's just … you don't know what it's like to be a werewolf, Harry. It's a very macho culture, and quite divided over Voldemort. When werewolves think about our side, they think of me first. I've got to maintain appearances."

"I'm sorry, Remus," Harry retreated. "I just feel…. Well, you didn't have to go watching over Mum's and Dad's gravesites…."

Remus snorted. "Bloody hell, I knew this would happen, Harry…."

"Then why didn't you call for backup? You know even Dumbledore couldn't have…."

"I don't mean I knew that," Remus growled. "I'm not a bloody seer. I mean it's just like you to feel at fault for what happened. Don't add me to all that damned mental baggage you carry about. This wasn't about you! This was about my best friend, James Potter, and the woman he loved. I'd've done that even if you'd never been born."

"If I'd never been born, you wouldn't have needed," Harry replied, his voice as soft as his companion's had been loud.

"Oh, drop it, then," Remus said, frustrated. "If you'd never been born, Voldemort might have taken over the first time around…. You gave us over a decade of peace."

"I can't help it," Harry admitted. "It's just the way I am."

"No, it's the way you were made," Remus replied, more in sorrow than anything else. "And that's what I don't like."

Remus was right. Endless guilt did get tedious - and tendentious. So Harry changed the subject. "I-I didn't know you played bagpipes, or anything…. That was beautiful, thrilling even…."

"Don't be fooled, Harry," Remus smiled with modesty. "It's not nearly as hard as it looks."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Harry continued. "Hermione plays. I've watched her practising. It's really hard to do that. Not that I would really know, though…."

Remus answered. "That's not what I mean, Harry. I'm sure what Hermione does is every bit as difficult as you say. She's Muggle-born, so I assume she does it the Muggle way. What I played was magically charmed. She'd probably call it cheating. Those pipes practically play themselves."

"Really?" Harry asked, nearly gobsmacked with surprise. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"No reason you would have, really," Remus allowed. "You're Muggle-raised and what's more, not really the type … the musical type, that is. Rather, you're close to the top of your year. You're truly gifted at Defence. Hermione's your girlfriend…."

"And my best friend," Harry added.

"Yes, and Ron's your other best friend. When you're not hanging with the Prefect crowd, you're hanging with the Quidditch crowd. I'm sure you never had much chance to become much acquainted with the musical types. Music's not in the Hogwarts lesson plan, so they're a mellower group, and less accomplished … at least by the standards you go by…."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. His curiosity was piqued.

"I needed something that takes the edge off all the stress that goes with my condition," Remus revealed. "Dumbledore suggested music. There's a room in the dungeons, not too far from the Potions classroom, that's for use by those with musical interests. It has all sorts of magically charmed instruments. It's still available, because I used it to practice this bit yesterday and this morning."

"So who's into music at Hogwarts these days, then?" Harry asked.

"I can't say for sure, since I had the place to myself," Remus told him. "But the wardrobes against one of the walls - new since I graduated - had the names Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Constance Marpeth from Gryffindor, Melinda Bobbin from Ravenclaw, the new Slytherin bloke, Van Lingle Park…. They're regulars, I reckon."

"Umm…. Harry?"

Harry and Remus both turned towards the familiar voice. Neville Longbottom's face was positively ashen.

"What's up, Nev?" Harry asked. "You don't look too good."

"I'm not entirely sure … not at all," the anxious boy answered. "Something's up, but I don't expect to find out until I fetch you to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore says it's urgent…. Sorry, Professor Lupin."

"That's quite all right, Neville," Remus told the boy. He would have pointed out that he was no longer a professor, but poor Neville looked so wound up that Remus never bothered. Nodding to Harry, Remus took his leave. "Run along where you're needed, Harry. I'll be in touch."

Neville said little, but had an "I just can't wait to get this over with" look on his face. Thus, Harry hastily stripped off his fancy golden Order of Merlin robe and donned his ordinary black school attire.

"What's it this time?" he asked Neville.

"Don't rightly know," Neville sighed. "The Headmaster said he wanted to tell us all at once. But I can tell it's bad … real bad…."

Harry fought off an anguished look. "Let's go, then."

Because he was being trailed by a half-dozen grey boulders, Harry paused for a moment to dismiss the goblins. With the Castle's wards back to full strength, and with all these award winners still about, his continued safety was not in jeopardy.

Trying not to be too conspicuous, the two walked swiftly back to the Castle, doing their best to acknowledge congratulatory comments from unknowing well-wishers, whilst not allowing themselves to be drawn into any real conversations. As "men of the hour," that was rather difficult.

Neville knew the password. The guardian gargoyle jumped aside. The next thing Harry knew, he was in Dumbledore's office and pinned by the old man's sorrowful gaze.

Harry was drawn to the squashy armchair where Hermione sat. He perched on the chair's arm and took her hand. Her worried look indicated that she knew no more about what was to be revealed than he did.

Dumbledore must have performed wandless magic because Hermione's chair expanded into a two-person chaise and Harry slid in next to her.

"Where are Ron and Ginny?" Harry asked.

"I dealt with them earlier," the Headmaster answered, "as we already knew how this affected them."

"Then, can you tell us, please?" rose Luna's unemotional voice from the opposite side of the room. She stared into space, ostentatiously twiddling her thumbs, and humming something that sounded like Amazing Grace played backwards.

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "Credit Miss Granger's prescience rather than mine. For those who do not know," his eyes glanced to Neville and Luna, "the Order of the Phoenix is now based in what was once Miss Granger's home. When we received the news that Death Eaters had attacked both the Weasley residence and Order Headquarters, I suspected - as did Miss Granger - that there may be a pattern…."

"So it was an attack on us?" Hermione blurted out.

"…I immediately ordered a check on all residences associated with Mister Potter, given his prominence. All was quiet at his Muggle relatives' house, Grimmauld Place, and even the inherited properties he has never visited. Nothing."

The Headmaster fixed his eyes upon Neville.

"Not until Augusta Apparated home after the ceremony, and unfortunately found no home to which to return, did we appreciate the full scope of this afternoon's Death Eater activity. As Miss Granger suspected, all six of Order winners were targeted in one way or another."

"I … I need to go to Gran," Neville stated. "She doesn't really have anyone else since Granddad passed. Uncle Algie's been rather out of sorts and isn't much help any longer. Can … can you arrange that?"

"Absolutely, Mister Longbottom," the Headmaster immediately agreed. "Please see Minerva in her office. She will accompany you to provide security en route. You will be met by Aurors on site. Feel free to stay with Augusta as long as is necessary."

Neville gathered his things and left.

Dumbledore turned next to Harry. Hermione had been rubbing his shoulders in a quite unsuccessful attempt to reduce his tension. He had received so much terrible news in his sixteen years….

"Who died this time?" Harry inquired in flat, despairing tones.

"Fortunately, nobody," the Headmaster answered quickly.

"Thank Merlin…." Harry sighed loudly. He almost went limp, slumping against Hermione and partially disappearing into her arms, as Dumbledore explained what had happened.

"Your parents' blood protection still protects the Dursleys, even, it seems, when they are not at Privet Drive. Thus when Voldemort's minions arrived at your Uncle Vernon's office door, he survived with only moderate injuries. The Death Eaters appear to concentrate on causing as much property damage as possible. The Grunnings office block was demolished."

"I assume that means the Quibbler is no more?" Luna chimed in. "After all, the Death Eaters were in Ottery."

"Regrettably, that is correct," the Headmaster addressed Luna. "We strongly suspect a coordinated strike. The party of Death Eaters that assaulted the Weasley Compound was operating in tandem. Once the engagement at the Burrow attracted our forces, a second group of Death Eaters paid a visit to your facilities as well. The Quibbler is a smoking ruin, I have been told. I am truly sorry but with the ceremony, we were undermanned…."

Luna acted totally unfazed by the loss. "All for the best in the best of all possible worlds," she replied in her usual dreamy fashion. "They failed to intercept today's issue with the final part of Harry's story in it, and I had no idea how I was going to fill the next issue, anyway. Life goes on…."

Hermione spoke up. "Did I lose…?"

"Not that we're aware of, Miss Granger," Dumbledore told her. "They appear to have attacked Order Headquarters believing it to be your residence. That mistake was to our advantage, as the attackers were essentially wiped out. We have contacted the Australian Ministry and verified that your mother is perfectly fine. We do not believe that Voldemort's people even know she left England. They are not, after all, followers of Muggle newspapers."

"What happened to Ron and Ginny … the Weasleys?" Harry asked once the Headmaster had finished.

"A pitched battle ensued," Dumbledore revealed. "Because all of the family, and so many Aurors, were at Hogwarts for the ceremony, the Ministry had only a skeleton crew of guards. The attack party nearly overwhelmed them, but ultimately our side held their own and saved part of the Weasleys' home from destruction. Most of the battle was fought in the new wing, which was reduced to rubble. The old Burrow, however, still stands. As for Mister and Miss … Ronald and Ginevra, their parents have instructed them to stay at Hogwarts."

"What now?" Hermione asked. "Are you canceling the Masked Ball?"

"I am not so inclined," the Headmaster stated. "I do not wish to give Tom that concession - especially given the effect such an action would have upon our French allies. The students at Beauxbatons have been anticipating this event for many weeks."

"Oh goody!" Luna exclaimed, showing her first real emotion of the session, "I'll get to meet my date in person after all."

"So the Ball will go on as scheduled, then?" Hermione repeated.

"Quite definitely," Dumbledore reiterated. "The Ministry and the Order are already on high alert, and the Death Eaters know better than to attack the Castle. It is possible that the portal to Beauxbatons will open a bit late as the French take extra precautions on their end, but everything here will proceed as scheduled…."

The Headmaster paused, before finishing.

"…And I do believe that means I should excuse you so that you may prepare yourselves for the event."

* * * *

Author's notes:

Ron's escapades won't always turn out this well

"Beth" is Beth Dunstan, a Seventh Year Slytherin (a "B. Dunstan" is canon)

"Solvo" means, among other things, "to release"

Copper turns pale greenish-blue when weathered

The encouragement Harry mentions began in Ch. 6

Hermione's canary attack on Ron was too good a concept to leave out

This is the same side door that Harry and Dumbledore used in Ch. 38, and that Snape used in Ch. 16

The sensation of being with others during Apparition was, mentioned several times since Ch. 4, was due to the presence of the Horcrux

Before I got glasses in second grade, I thought nothing of not being able to see the blackboard

Smith and Johnson are from Ch. 21, Mannock is from Ch. 32, Branstone and Doddinghurst are first mentioned in Ch. 5, Branston also precipitated the incident in Ch. 17, and was hurt in Ch. 34

A control rod in a nuclear reactor is used to prevent runaway chain reactions. Again, Hermione is being placed at risk to protect Harry

The original boiler test and the black box were in Ch. 5

San Juan class submarines are designed to be virtually undetectable underwater, and their speed is secret

The image is Neville's memory from Ch. 36 of Hermione being immolated in Harry's 5th Element outburst

Harry's redirected magical surge is not wasted

Percy refers to the autocue incident in Reims in Ch. 26

"Broom in the air" = "show on the road"

The last two sentences of Harry's speech are modifications of, first Edmund Burke's statement that evil triumphs when good men do nothing, and, second, the street slogan that the people united cannot be defeated

Hermione's "5% of the universe" statement is a reference to dark matter and dark energy. In cosmology, they're "dark" because they're undetectable, except for large-scale gravitational and spacetime effects

Quintessence is another current cosmological term for dark, or zero point, or vaccum energy. It literally means "fifth element," which Hermione just realized

Hermione's "avoidance of choice is a choice" reworks a line from Rush's "Free Will"

The "luckiest witch on the face of the earth" line is taken from Lou Gehrig's 1939 farewell address

The poppy is a traditional war remembrance symbol in Britain, dating from at least WWI

The Longbottom funeral was in Ch.25

A tourbillion is a large, round fireworks display

The bagpiper's description is accurate

Both Battle's Over and Amazing Grace are common bagpipe funeral songs

21-wand salute = a 21 gun (royal) salute is used on Remembrance Day

The music room will come up again

"All for the best … best of all possible worlds," is from Voltaire's "Candide"

55

C:\Documents and Settings\Owner\My Documents\HP & The Fifth Element.ch51 Padfoot's legacy.doc 8/11/2007

-->