Unofficial Portkey Archive

I expected to be back sooner, but one thing or another kept getting in the way. One of those things is my planned seventh-year novel that puts a new spin on events in HBP. To give you an idea how long it'll be, I'm presently working on the first draft of Chapter 8, and Harry hasn't left the Burrow yet. This is shaping up to be a major project, one which I fear will not be finished before the real seventh book comes out. But the various theories I want to put forth, some of which I believe may actually occur in Book 7 in one form or another, all come up in the early chapters, and I expect to have those posted in time to beat Scholastic's publication date. After that, the rest of the story will be entirely my own creation, and if that isn't done in time to beat J.K.'s finale, no harm will be done.

"Curse me, Harry," Hermione said.

"What?" Harry replied from his comfortable chair in the modest study chamber of his Head Boy quarters. "Hermione, you know I never use that kind of language! And even if I did, I'd certainly never use it on you!"

Hermione stared at Harry for a moment before shaking her head and sighing.

"Don't tell me…when you were in Hogsmeade yesterday to restock your potions ingredients, you ran into Fred or George at the apothecary, right?"

"Both of them, actually," Harry said with a guilty smile. "How did you guess?"

"And I suppose they were buying something dangerous, like doxy venom or powdered knarl quills, to make more of those vile Skiving Snackboxes to sell to Hogwarts students."

When Harry replied with a nonchalant shrug, Hermione sighed again.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said humorlessly. "Every time you spend more than ten minutes with those - those demented delinquents - you come back with your head lodged firmly up your arse. If you can't manage to resist their so-called charms, I swear, I'm banning them from our flat once we're married."

"Married," Harry said dreamily, his impish expression softening. "Merlin, but I love the sound of that."

"If you want the reality of it," Hermione said seriously, "then get out of that chair and work with me! If Voldemort does attack the school, as Dumbledore is sure he will, we'll have to be ready for him. Now pull out your wand and attack me."

"Are you sure it's safe - here in the room, I mean?" Harry's Weasley-inspired capriciousness evaporated as he rose unhurriedly from his chair and reached for his wand. "We wouldn't want to cause any damage."

"Don't use any really dangerous spells," Hermione said. "Just some ordinary attacking spells. If the Charm I've cast works as it should, it'll be effective on the big Curses as well as the small ones. Now, attack me!"

His body language betraying no hint of the action to follow, Harry sprang to his feet, drew his wand in a lightning motion and cried, "Expelliarmus!"

To his utter amazement, the disarming spell had no effect whatsoever. Hermione stood calmly, her wand held firmly in her hand.

"Try another one," she said with growing satisfaction. "Try…the Stunning Spell."

"Are you sure?" Harry said uncertainly.

"Take your best shot," Hermione said daringly.

Again giving no warning, Harry whipped his wand up and said, "Stupefy!" A jet of red light shot from the tip of his wand and struck Hermione full in the chest. But instead of slumping to the floor, unconscious, she merely smiled back at Harry, her eyes alight.

"You have some explaining to do, Miss Head Girl," Harry said, clearly impressed, as he slipped his wand back into his pocket. "If you had erected a shield or something to deflect the spells, I could understand why my Stunner didn't flatten you as it should have done. But I've been watching you since you came through the door, and I know you didn't cast any spells. And I know you didn't come down with a shield already around you. I saw you close the door behind you - I saw you grip the handle with your hand - and you couldn't have done that if you were surrounded by a magical barrier."

"So you were paying attention," Hermione said with a pleasantly approving smile. "Good. Maybe that pre-Auror training is doing some good after all." Replacing her own wand in her robes, Hermione approached Harry and extended her left hand. Harry stared at her hand for a moment before raising his eyes to meet hers.

"The ring? You did something to it?"

Hermione smiled and nodded.

Upon announcing their plans to marry, early in the school year, Harry and Hermione had followed long-standing wizard tradition and obtained a pair of plain silver rings from the jeweler in Hogsmeade. These were Bonding Rings, equivalent to an engagement ring in the Muggle world, except that, in the wizarding world, both parties wore this symbol of their mutual devotion and their promise to each other. Per centuries-old tradition, the betrothed couple sequestered themselves in a private chamber (in this case, the very room in which they now stood ), where each placed a special Bonding Charm on the other's ring before placing them upon each other's hand. This Charm linked the two rings, and thereby their owners, so that each could always feel the other's presence and draw strength and reassurance therefrom. It was the first phase in their eventual union, wherein they would ultimately become one, body and soul, thus realizing the promise represented by the linked rings.

Harry took Hermione's hand and raised it to his face. He looked at her ring, then at his own. Aside from Harry's being a couple of sizes bigger to accommodate his larger hand, they were indistinguishable. If Hermione had, in fact, added some new spell to the Bonding Charm, there was no outward evidence to betray that fact. Hermione saw Harry's unspoken questions in his eyes, and her smile widened.

"It's called an Inversion Charm," she explained. "Professor Flitwick told me about it in Advanced Charms, and we worked on it together, after classes. It took me a week to get it just right."

"What does it do?" Harry asked. "It doesn't cast a shield. My Stunner didn't bounce off you; I saw it hit you. Does the Charm neutralize spells? Render them impotent?"

"Not exactly," Hermione said as she slipped her hand from Harry's grasp and held it up so that the silver band caught the light from a nearly window. "As the name states, it inverts an attacking spell. It turns the spell upside-down, so to speak, so that it works backwards.

"When you tried to disarm me, the Charm reconfigured your spell so that, instead of flinging my wand away, it bonded it to my hand so that an earthquake couldn't have shaken it from my hold.

"As for the Stunner, you know that that spell knocks the subject out by blocking nerve impulses so that no signals can go to or from the brain."

"I know that, do I?" Harry said with an exaggerated lift of his eyebrows.

"You would if you paid attention in class," Hermione retorted, narrowing one eye in accusatory fashion. "But the Inversion Charm reversed the spell's configuration and turned it into an Invigorating Spell, sort of like the counter-stunner, Ennervate. Instead of deadening my nerve impulses, your spell enhanced them. It was like a surge of adrenaline had gone through me. Had I been disposed to counter-attack, I would have been able to move about ten times faster than normal - though only for a few moments. But in those moments, I could have counter-attacked before you could open your mouth to speak another spell."

"The effects don't last very long, then," Harry said, completely serious now. His preliminary Auror training was now awakened, and he attended Hermione's every word.

"No. The Charm has to remain flexible so it can react instantly to whatever spell comes next. If I were being attacked from more than one direction, and simultaneous spells hit me, it wouldn't be able to deal with all of them. But while I was defending against one spell or another consciously, the Charm would automatically protect me if someone attacked me from a blind side. In close quarters, where the enemy couldn't attack in large numbers for fear of hitting each other, the Inversion Charm is invaluable."

"How long does the Charm itself last?" Harry asked. "How often do you have to reinforce it?"

"It goes dormant in about an hour," Hermione replied. "It's a powerful Charm. It's maintained on a subconscious level by one's own will. Once activated, it begins to draw on the wearer's strength, if only marginally. In time, the mind becomes exhausted, rather like the body will when carrying a heavy physical load. After a time, the mind needs a rest period before the Charm can be reactivated."

"When can you place the Charm on my ring?" Harry asked. "I presume that's your intention?"

"Of course," Hermione said. "I've already booked the Room of Requirement for Saturday. I've been using it a lot this year, while you've been in your pre-Auror classes. The rules don't allow me to take those classes, since you've declared for an Auror career and I haven't. But the teachers have been helping me prepare in my own way, giving up their free time in the process. When Voldemort attacks, I need to be ready. We need to be ready."

"I wish I could keep you out of harm's way," Harry said wistfully. Hermione's eyes flashed for the merest fraction of a second. "But I know that's useless," he added with a defeated smile. "If I've learned anything in the last six years, it's that, when the chips are down, there's no one I'd rather have at my side than Hermione Granger. Well," he added with a gleam in his eye, "maybe Hermione Potter."

Hermione's eyes softened immediately. "I love you for worrying about me, Harry, for wanting to keep me safe. But no one will be safe if Voldemort isn't stopped. There will be nowhere to hide. Your…your parents' death proved that." She paused, seeing the momentary twinge in Harry's shoulders at this painful but necessary reminder. "We have to do this. Now.

"I've begun to think it's for the best if Voldemort does attack the school. Our defensive spells are among the most potent in the world. And with Dumbledore leading us, I know we'll not only survive, but win out. The sooner we take Voldemort down, the sooner the world can breathe normally again.

"Besides," she added with a slightly pained smile, "if you lock me away in a broom cupboard, the Blood Circle will be broken. All of our work and preparation - ours and everyone else's - will have been for naught."

"How exactly does that work?" piped a high-pitched, somewhat timid voice from Harry's right. He and Hermione turned to see Neville Longbottom standing in the open doorway. Neville lowered his head slightly in an apologetic gesture. "Sorry to just barge in. I was going to knock, but the door was open, and in order to reach the door to knock on it, I'd have to come in anyway, so…" Neville's voice trailed off, and Harry laughed good-naturedly.

"No worries, Neville. I've told you loads of times, any time the door is open, just come right in. When I want privacy, I'll close the door, won't I? Then you can knock."

Neville smiled nervously before his face came alert. "I just remembered why I came in. Professor McGonagall said it's all cleared with the Floo Regulation Board. You and Hermione can leave on schedule."

"Thanks, Neville," Harry smiled. Turning to Hermione, he asked, "You ready to go, love?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "But you didn't answer Neville's question, did you?"

"What question? Oh - the Blood Circle, right. Um…suppose you explain it to him."

Hermione gave Harry a disapproving frown before turning to face Neville with her warm, friendly smile back in place.

"The Blood Circle is very old magic, Neville. It's both a Charm and a ceremony. And as the name implies, blood is a key ingredient."

Holding out her left hand, Hermione showed Neville a thin, white, nearly invisible line running diagonally across her palm.

"The spell is commonly used on three people," she said, "though the number varies in accordance with each grouping. It seems to work at its best, however, when only three are involved. Three is a very powerful number. Three represents the pyramid, the strongest geometric shape. The upper point can support a tremendous weight, so long as the foundation remains strong. With the two anchoring and supporting the third, the Circle represents tremendous power when properly employed."

"I thought the egg was the strongest shape in nature," Harry said in a quiet undertone.

"But not just any group of people can form the Blood Circle," Hermione stressed, ignoring Harry, who merely smiled. "It has to be a group who are closely linked by friendship and love - people whose minds and hearts are fused through years of mutual trial and unshakable fraternity. The Charm unites them, fuses their individuality into a oneness of mind and heart, imparting a power far in excess of their combined strengths. The whole thus becomes more than the sum of its parts.

"But its success depends almost entirely on a oneness that already exists between them. That's why three is considered the ideal number for the Circle. A small, close group usually shares a stronger bond than a larger one. The Charm doesn't create oneness, but rather it uses the unity that already exists as a foundation and builds on that, strengthening it to the Nth degree. When united by the Blood Circle, a trio whose friendship has been forged in the fires of adversity can be the equal of a small army, provided the participants are wholly dedicated to their purpose. It's only rarely that the Blood Circle is successfully created. One flaw in any of the links can weaken the chain and cause the Circle to shatter. And when the Circle consists of only three, it's crucial that each point be sharp, each side unbending. Remove one side from a hexagon, the other sides can close in to form a pentagon. But remove one side of a triangle, the remaining two sides collapse.

"So, though the three-sided Circle is the most efficient, it's also the one most easily destroyed if the three links aren't bonded securely. That's why it's critical that the three participants be as closely joined as possible before they undertake to form the Circle."

"Ron is the third link in your chain, right?" Neville said.

"Ron is the one who suggested it," Harry interjected. "Well, it was Moody who had the original idea. He mentioned it to Ron one day Summer last, and Ron told Hermione and me about it the night we arrived at the Burrow."

"Who performed the Charm?" Neville asked.

"Dumbledore," Hermione said. "With Flitwick's help. But in order for the Charm to work, the three of us had to perform part of it ourselves."

"I could never have done that," Neville said timidly.

"Sure you could," Harry assured him. "Don't forget, we both saw you in action at the Ministry at the end of Fifth Year."

"Yes," Hermione agreed heartily. "You did your mum and dad proud that day."

Neville reddened slightly before his eyes narrowed strangely.

"W-Will this Blood Circle enable you to…to defeat the D-Dark Lord?"

"Of itself, no," Hermione said. "Voldemort is very powerful, and much as I hate to admit it, he has a decided advantage over us. He has no compunction against using Dark Magic."

"But Dumbledore came up with a viable solution," Harry said. "It's not Dark Magic, but it's a close cousin. It's virtually forgotten by all but the most learned witches and wizards, which is just as well, because it isn't something that just any wizard can pull off."

"Wh-What is it?" Neville said hesitantly.

"A potion," Harry said. "In ancient days, before magic was refined with the development of wands, potions played a much larger role in the war between good and evil. A very old Sumerian text, of which Dumbledore owns a copy, describes a ceremony involving a potion which acts as a sort of magical armor against one's foe."

"And P-Professor Snape made you this potion?"

"Say what you want about Snape," Harry grunted, "but there's probably no better potions brewer in Britain. It's a good job he re-joined our side. I'd hate to think what deviltry he might have got up to if he were still serving Voldemort."

Neville's eyes seemed no more than slits now. Abruptly his face resumed its typical benign timidity.

"And y-you said there was a ceremony?" Neville asked.

"Yes," Harry said. "There's one key ingredient without which the potion is useless. And an incantation must accompany its addition; speak a single syllable wrong, the whole lot is just rubbish."

"What is the secret ingredient?" Neville asked somewhat hesitantly.

"A personal artifact from the enemy himself. Usually hair or blood. And that was the real trick. Where could we get a piece of Voldemort to complete the potion? It's not like we could just sneak into his chamber and snatch a few hairs from his pillow."

"So what did you use?" Neville said in an anticipatory hush.

"Hermione?" Harry said, nodding to one side.

Following Harry's gaze, Hermione turned toward Harry's writing table, which was littered with scrolls of half-finished homework (at which she tutted under her breath). Lying to one side, easily spotted in the midst of Harry's school items, was an old, unsavory-looking book. She picked this up and handed it to Harry, who held it out for Neville to see.

"This is Tom Riddle's diary," Harry said. When Neville responded with a blank look, Harry elaborated. "Tom Riddle is Voldemort's real name. The name he used when he was a student here at Hogwarts."

"H-How did you get it?" Neville said wonderingly.

"Interesting story, that," Harry smiled grimly. "You remember the Chamber of Secrets? This is why it was opened again after fifty years. Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, slipped this diary into Ginny's cauldron when we were buying school supplies in Diagon Alley. This book held the essence of Tom Riddle's mind - his life-force, if you will. But not any more." Harry pointed to a black-edged hole in the middle of the book's cover. "The poison from the basilisk's fang 'killed' the spirit possessing the book. But, like any 'dead body,' the book still represents a physical aspect of Riddle. As far as the spell is concerned, any fragment of this book is as good as the blood from Voldemort's veins. "

Neville's eyes were intent on the book now. "But…" he said in a barely audible whisper, "…how did you get it?" Harry smiled grimly.

"After Tom Riddle was destroyed, I gave this diary back to Draco's father. He tossed it aside, not wanting to admit to his complicity in the attacks and all, and Dobby the house-elf picked it up. Dobby is very fond of this book. He wouldn't be a free elf today without it."

"R-Really?" Neville said.

"When I gave this to Mr. Malfoy," Harry chuckled, "it was tucked into my sock. He tossed the sock into the air, where Dobby caught it. If a house-elf's master gives him any article of clothing, the magic bonding the elf into servitude is broken. Dobby kept the sock and the diary. They're like holy artifacts to him. When we got the idea to use the diary in the potion ceremony, I wasn't sure he'd want to give it up."

"Bloody hell, Harry," Hermione put in with a shake of her bushy head. "Dobby worships you. He'd cut off his ears if you asked him to!"

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Harry said, returning Hermione's smile.

Neville was scrutinizing the diary closely now. His mouth was pressed into a very thin line, rather like Professor McGonagall when she was expressing severe disapproval.

"We tore a page out of the diary," Harry resumed. "It was burned in the flame of a black candle, and the ashes were added to the potion, accompanied by the incantation. When we all drank the potion - Ron, Hermione and I - we absorbed a small portion of Voldemort's essence. And that's the key. You see, all magic has a personal 'signature,' partly from the wand, but mostly from its user. All magic originates in the mage's magical blood. Well, the three of us now have a bit of Voldemort in our blood. Our personal auras should 'harmonize' with Voldemort's, making us less vulnerable to his magic."

"Of course," Hermione interjected, "it's worth bugger all against his Death Eaters."

"Well," Harry shrugged, "if we're not good enough to get past them, then we wouldn't survive against Voldemort anyway."

Neville's head turned slightly, and his eyes went round. "Look at the time! Shouldn't you be leaving soon?"

Harry stole a look at the baby grandfather clock which stood by the door, and he nodded. "Almost eleven. Our window opens in one minute." Turning to Hermione, he said, "All ready, love?"

"All we need is the Floo powder," Hermione said.

"Right," Harry said, his brow wrinkling now across the thin line of his lightning scar. "Now, where did I leave that pouch?"

"Is that it?" Neville piped up, pointing to the mantel of the fireplace. Harry turned about and spied the small pouch, sitting between two framed photos, one of his parents, the other of Hermione. Harry took a step, but Neville said quickly, "I'll get it for you, Harry!"

Before Harry could stop him, Neville drew his wand and pointed it at the fireplace.

"Accio pouch!"

The drawstring pouch leaped from the mantel and flew directly at Neville, who, as Harry had feared from the start, did not raise his free hand in time. The pouch smacked into Neville's face, and as he stepped back his feet tangled in his robes and he fell onto his backside. Harry and Hermione rushed forward, quickly saw that Neville was uninjured, and they each took an arm to help him to his feet.

"Sorry, Harry," Neville apologized, his round face reddening.

"No worries," Harry laughed. He picked up the fallen pouch and brandished it. "See, still snug. Not a bit spilled."

"That's good," Neville said. "So, um, I guess you'd best be off, right?"

"Right you are," Harry agreed. He nodded toward the open door, and Neville exited, followed by Hermione and Harry, the latter of whom locked his door with an unbreakable Locking Charm (unbreakable by any but Hermione, to whom he had given the secret of the tricky wand movement which alone unlocked the door).

Harry's chamber was at the very top of the boys' spiral staircase. There were, in fact, separate quarters for Head Boy and Head Girl in each of the four Hogwarts Houses. It was only rarely that the two highest student posts were assigned to members of the same House. The last time it had happened, it was Harry's parents, James Potter and Lily Evans, who simultaneously occupied the matching chambers at the pinnacle of Gryffindor Tower.

The Head Boy and Head Girl quarters, though occupying the same tower, were separated by an impregnable stone wall - the very wall into which was set the back-to-back fireplaces which warmed the two opposing rooms. It was by this means that Harry and Hermione traveled throughout the castle at need (and by which each visited the other after hours, to avoid being subjected to their housemates' bawdy humor). Harry frequently thought back to his third year at Hogwarts, when first he had seen Professor Lupin step calmly out of Snape's fire and into the Potions Master's office. It had been a startling sight then, but now, nearly four years later, it was become for Harry a routine like any other in the magical world.

Unfortunately, his and Hermione's fireplaces shared a separate chimney from the great fireplace in the common room below. Since it was only the common room fire which had been temporarily linked to the Floo Network, Harry could not use his own convenient fire for today's journey. Nor could he just step into his own fire and emerge in the common room; his fireplace was linked only to the teachers' offices (including, of course, Dumbledore's), as well as to the teachers' lounge. The two Heads could thus be summoned at a moment's notice when duty called.

There was also an optional Charm which linked the Head Boy's fire to the Head Girl's, most useful on those occasions when one Head was housed in Gryffindor Tower and the other in Slytherin's dungeon. Harry and Hermione had exercised this option many times since the beginning of term, sparing Hermione the embarrassment of being seen to walk up the boys' staircase in full view of the Gryffindor common room on those occasions when her visit was prompted by less than professional motivation. (Harry, of course, could not use the girls' staircase, which was enchanted to prevent any boy from climbing it.)

The three emerged at last into the common room, where they found Ron waiting for them, his trademark grin on his face and a square of folded parchment in his hand.

"Any news from Bill?" Harry asked as he spied the Gringotts Wizarding Bank seal on the top corner of the parchment Ron held.

"Not much," Ron said. "He and Fleur still haven't set a date. Mum's going crackers, says she doesn't want the two of them living together like common Muggles."

"I'll have a talk with Fleur when we visit the Burrow over the Christmas holidays," Hermione said. "And Harry can - "

"Leave me out of it," Harry said quickly. "Besides," he added hastily when Hermione's eyes flashed momentarily, "once they see how happy Hermione and I are as a properly engaged couple, it's only a matter of time, innit?"

"Nice save, Potter," Hermione chuckled. "You should've been a Keeper instead of a Seeker."

"We already have a Keeper," Harry responded, nodding at Ron. "And a bloody good one, I might add."

"There is one odd thing in Bill's letter," Ginny put in as she emerged from the girls' staircase and joined the conversation. "It appears someone broke into one of the tombs Bill and his mates have been de-Cursing."

"Did they steal anything?" Hermione asked. "Gold…or artifacts?" It was the latter which worried her more, as the ancient Egyptian wizards had enchanted some extremely powerful objects which many had long feared might be used by Voldemort in his war against the Light Side."

"Well, that's the odd thing," Ginny said. "As far as they can tell, nothing was taken."

"Then why did they go to the trouble of combating all those Curses to break in?" Hermione puzzled.

Ginny looked from Hermione to Harry, then to Ron, who shrugged and shook his head, feeling that the subject had already received more attention than was its due.

"Where you two off to, then?" he asked, as much to redirect the conversation as out of curiosity.

"Top secret," Harry said, pressing a finger to his lips. "I could tell you, but…"

"You'd have to put a Memory Charm on me, I know," Ron laughed.

"Top secret, my backside," Hermione said with a twinkle in her eye. "We're off to Diagon Alley. I ordered new dress robes for the Halloween Ball, and their owl arrived this morning telling me they're ready. They cut it bloody close, too. The Ball is tonight, for Merlin's sake!"

"I keep telling her she doesn't need new dress robes," Harry said. "I still think those blue ones are smashing."

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione scolded. "I outgrew those robes ages ago! They're three sizes too small! And if you even think of responding to that," she added tersely, " you can bloody well dress Millicent Bulstrode in my old robes and take her to the ball! I daresay they'll be even tighter on her!"

"Professor Dumbledore arranged for the Floo Network to be hooked up to the fire for two ten-minute windows, right?" Ginny said hastily, her hand covering a smile as Ron trembled with silent laughter.

"The first of which is going to close in one minute," Hermione said, one eye on Harry, the other on her watch. "If I don't get to wear those new robes after all the trouble I went to, all the fittings I stood for…"

"Say no more, love," Harry said as he opened the pouch in his hand and held it out for Hermione to dip inside and extract a pinch. Tugging the drawstring tight, Harry tucked the pouch into his robes and slipped his arm around Hermione's waist, drawing her close. Grinning up at her fiancée, Hermione turned and tossed the Floo powder into the roaring flames, which immediately turned emerald green. With a good-bye wave at their friends, they leaped into the flames to a chorus of, "Diagon Alley!," and with a great whooshing sound, they vanished.

With the departure of Harry and Hermione, the small crowd dispersed quickly and went back to their individual pursuits. As Ginny seated herself and picked up a battered copy of Witch Weekly magazine, Ron turned to Neville and said, "Fancy a game of chess, mate? Harry's so busy nowadays, we haven't played in ages."

"S-Sorry," Neville said. "I have to go. I…forgot something."

"You need another Remembrall," Ron said as Neville pushed against the back of the Fat Lady's portrait, which swung open easily. "I'll get you one for Christmas."

"Th-Thanks," Neville said with a weak smile. "See you."

As the portrait swung closed behind him, Neville stood for a moment as a shadow passed across his round-cheeked face. His eyes, which had been soft and benign, grew hard as flint. A very uncharacteristic expression twisted his face, something akin to a sneer. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small drawstring pouch. He cradled the pouch in his palm, surveying it with a sort of Machiavellian satisfaction. He laughed shortly, a cold, hard, biting laugh.

"So much for your triangle, Potter!"

He laughed again, then shoved the pouch back into his pocket and moved swiftly down the corridor, his eyes darting back and forth to his watch as he quickened his pace and disappeared through a shadowed doorway leading to the dungeons.