Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; it belongs to JK Rowling, etc etc.

Authors Note: Ooops, sorry guys. I meant to post this at the weekend, but I ended up working Sunday night and completely forgot about it. Anyway, better late then never and all that. Hope you enjoy. I certainly did writing it, just as much as I will enjoy reading all your awesome reviews. Oh yeah, I've been meaning to mention this for ages. I've had a load of reviews by people all telling me that the Cruciatus Curse is unblockable like the Killing Curse. As far as I'm aware, that's never been clarified in the books. JK only says that the Killing Curse is unblockable. I think people have just got it all mixed up because those three spells are lumped together as the Unforgivables. Maybe I'm wrong; I haven't read the books in a while. Either way, for the purpose of this story, only the Killing Curse is unblockable. Thanks for reading. Have an imaginary cookie.

Authors Note 2: Thank you ranman for pointing out my uber mess up. I forgot about Hermione! I can't bloody believe it. I was like... "DOH!". Mercilessly beating myself up right now. Anyway, fixed it. Again, thanks for pointing it out. Sorry everyone.

Outside of Hogwarts, things were just as dire as the wizarding world had come to expect. Voldemort continued his campaign of discord, attacking some of the more prominent members of wizarding community. Others had seemingly disappeared, but whether they had been kidnapped by Death Eaters, or had just fled and gone into hiding, no one knew.

However, inside Hogwarts tensions had eased somewhat. This might have had something to do with the noticeable silence of the Junior Death Eaters. Hermione theorized that Harry had managed to scare them off with the near miss involving Justin Finch-Fletchley and then the confrontation in the Great Hall. Harry wasn't so sure - it made him nervous.

On the plus side, things seemed to be going well between Draco and Ginny again. Harry didn't know the specifics, but Hermione had told him about the punch up between Draco and Neville that had somehow precipitated Ginny's change of heart. Harry didn't mention Draco's conflicting account of the event to her. He got the impression that Ginny thought Neville had started the fight, and obviously Draco hadn't bothered to correct her misunderstanding, so it wasn't Harry's place to mention it to anyone, let alone one of Ginny's best friends, even if she was his girlfriend.

His lessons with Dumbledore and Professor Oniki were proceeding nicely, although the latter was going much to slowly for his liking. However, Professor Oniki seemed more than pleased with his progress. Harry was hard put to notice it.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, was finally actually teaching him some useful spells. They had started with defensive spells, but Harry had quickly proved to Dumbledore that he was more than efficient at defending himself. Harry's problem was offensive magic, something that had always eluded him. None of the books he read had anything interesting to say about offensive magic. They simply rehashed all of the bog standard spells that any wizard worth his salt could perform - cutting curses, stunning spells, disarming, and so on. What Harry was looking for was something more. He didn't even know what, exactly.

So when Dumbledore stood before him and announced that they would now begin studying advanced offensive magic, Harry had been beyond ecstatic. He could hardly contain his excitement and he was rather embarrassed to discover he was acting a little like a hyper child about to get his hands on his favourite toy.

'First lesson,' Dumbledore had said, holding up a crooked old finger, 'never forget the basics.'

Harry felt some of his excitement drain away.

Seeing the look on Harry's face, Dumbledore had continued, with a small little knowing smile, 'Now, now, Harry, don't prejudge what I am about to teach you. Keep your mind open and willing to receive the information I am about to impart. I stress, it cannot be more valuable.'

'Go on,' Harry said slowly, his interest peaked.

'Let me ask you a question,' Dumbledore began, 'what would you do if, during your inevitable face off with Voldemort, he casts (and he will) a Killing Curse in your direction?'

Harry raised an eyebrow in thought. 'Dodge it?'

Dumbledore smiled. 'If you can't?'

'I don't know…' Harry trailed off. 'Die?' This was said as a joke.

Dumbledore shook his head. 'It's not funny,' he rebuked Harry. 'It shames me that so many wizards in this day and age pay no attention to the spells they learned in school. Oh, do not get me wrong, not everyone can perform the spells I will teach you. Only a select few have the power to magically tap into enough energy to pull them off - and I believe you are one of them. But even so, those unable too are in no way ill equipped to defend themselves and indeed, others, from Voldemort and his Death Eaters.'

'What's your point?' Harry demanded, getting a little irritated with Dumbledores roundabout way of teaching.

'What if I told you that the Killing Curse is, in fact, not unblockable, like so many believe? What if I told you that you already know the spell that will protect you from it?'

Harry was silent a moment, pondering Dumbledore's words. When the Headmaster made no sign of answering his own questions, Harry prompted him with, 'So, tell me already.'

'The Levitation Charm,' Dumbledore said, very simply.

'The Levitation Charm…' Harry didn't allow any emotion to show in his words, he just repeated them, almost in disbelief, or maybe to assure himself he had heard correctly.

'While you cannot use a magic barrier to protect yourself from the Killing Curse, simply moving an object into its path will negate the spells effect. The object will be destroyed, of course, but you will remain unharmed. Providing you are not struck by a stray bit of rubble. Thus is the Killing Curse blocked. Now, unless you have the misfortune of fighting Voldemort in an empty void, you should have plenty of objects to be your shield.'

Harry allowed himself a grim smile. 'It's so simple,' he said, chastising himself, 'so simple its brilliant. No one would even consider using a spell you learn in your first year to counter the most powerful spell in existence.'

'Even I did not consider it until I was considerably older than you,' Dumbledore admitted. 'The last vestiges of youthful arrogance giving way to aging wisdom.'

'You said you would teach me offensive spells, how does this relate?' Harry asked.

'It doesn't,' Dumbledore confessed, 'I but thought it was a lesson worth knowing. Now then, let us proceed with your actual lesson. First up - Advanced Transfiguration.'

'Transfiguration?' Harry queried.

'Transfiguration like you have never imagined,' Dumbledore elaborated. 'You know the basics of Transfiguration, how to transform an object into something else entirely. What I will teach you only a select few have the ability to perform - Voldemort and myself included.'

'Well?' Harry prompted.

'Harry, I am going to teach you how to transfigure even the smallest element of the earth. What the Muggles call atoms.'

'Why?' Harry asked.

'Why? Think on it. To be able to create something from thin air is a power anyone would desire.'

'But I can already do that,' Harry said. 'Flame Charms can create fire and so on.'

'Not on this level,' Dumbledore replied. 'With this, you could turn an entire room into a blazing inferno of fire. What's more, you can turn another's spell into whatever you wanted. Someone casts a Flame Charm at you; you could simply turn it into water with a flick of your wand, or render it back down to nothingness. Remember what I said, Harry. The Killing Curse can be blocked, and very easily, if you master this art. If you find yourself without an object to protect yourself…'

'I could create one,' Harry said, catching on, a greedy smile of lust appearing on his face.

'Precisely.'

'Alright,' Harry said, pulling out his wand, ready to learn, 'where do we start?'

Dumbledore brandished his own wand and the lessons continued.

(----)

Draco Malfoy was walking on eggshells.

Things with Ginny had never been better, but despite this, he was incredibly worried that she would find out he had initiated the fight with Neville. He knew he should have told her the truth, but he couldn't help but fear how far her forgiveness would stretch. So he had lied to her. Again.

Not his best move.

Only Harry knew the truth of the encounter, but his best friend had thankfully remained silent. Not that Draco had thought he wouldn't. He would never have told Harry if he thought that way. No, Harry was very good about minding his business. The rest of their friends had no idea. They all believed Neville had started the fight. Why Neville hadn't told anyone the truth was surprising, but Draco figured it was some stupid Gryffindor thing. He probably thought he deserved Ginny's scorn.

The idiot.

At the moment, Ginny was sitting comfortably close to him, their legs touching, her nose buried in a Potions textbook. Draco watched as her intense green eyes studied the page, how her tongue poked out between her teeth ever so slightly, how she occasionally sucked on it in thought. She was adorable.

He loved her. That was pretty obvious. It never stopped surprising him. Draco Malfoy, once a full-fledged member of Slytherin's Elite, was completely, head over heels in love with a Muggle loving Gryffindor. He smiled to himself. He didn't care anymore. As long as he could keep her, he didn't care.

It didn't matter that he was a disowned son of a disgraced family. It didn't matter that his housemates had shunned him as a traitor and a coward. Nothing mattered as long as Ginny was his. She was everything to him.

His smile turned into a momentary grimace.

Ugh, how sappy.

Draco Malfoy - pansy ass Hufflepuff.

Bloody brilliant.

He smiled again.

He didn't care.

He could feel Ginny's leg against his own.

Oh yeah, he didn't care.

Not one bit.

(----)

By the time November rolled around, Harry was becoming more efficient in Advanced Transfiguration. He was nowhere near Dumbledore's level yet, but he knew he would get there.

It was a hell of a lot more complicated than a normal spell. For one, he had to memorize all of the correct incantations, in Latin, for all of the different elements, and then the correct transfiguring conditions. Not to mention the shear amount of energy it took to pull off the spells. The first time he had tried one and nothing happened, he had been a bit disappointed. Dumbledore assured him it was normal, told him to try again, and to put as much energy into the spell as he could, so he did. He could hardly stand for the rest of the day, and all he had managed to create was a small lick of flame. Dumbledore guaranteed him he would learn to conserve and condense the energy eventually.

He did. Or at least, he was.

The same progress could not be said about his training with Professor Oniki, but the less said about that, the better.

When Dumbledore summoned him for another lesson, Harry was expecting another few hours of gruelling practice, but he was to be surprised.

'Ah, Harry, excellent,' Dumbledore greeted him from behind his desk. 'Please, have a seat. I have something I wish to discuss with you first.'

'Okay,' Harry said, taking the offered seat. He sat patiently, waiting for Dumbledore to begin, although inside he was burning with curiosity. It had almost become a game between them. Dumbledore had lectured Harry on his impatience many a time during their training, telling him it was a burden he should cast aside. Harry had argued that he wasn't impatient. It was Dumbledore and his mysterious ways that brought it out in him. Ever since then, Harry had been keeping an outwardly calm face, even though he was often frustrated beyond measure with Dumbledore's less than direct ways.

Sitting across from the aged wizard, Harry smiled tolerantly.

Dumbledore chuckled softly at Harry's posturing and began, 'I have discovered some information that is rather interesting.' He let the sentence trail away, steadfastly looking Harry in the eye. Harry continued to smile benignly back at him. Dumbledore shook his head and continued, 'The possible location of a Horcrux.'

Harry managed to conceal his surprise. 'Explain.'

'I uncovered information about Rowena Ravenclaw and her descendents. Evidently, her line lives on in France. I wasn't the only one to discover this, though.'

'Voldemort.'

'Correct,' Dumbledore affirmed. 'Before he openly became Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle visited the family. I think he took something of hers to add to his collection.'

'Any idea what, and where it is now?'

'Actually,' Dumbledore said, 'I have been long thinking about the diary Voldemort entrusted to Lucius Malfoy.'

'What about it?' Harry asked interestedly.

'Perhaps - and this is just conjecture at this point, you understand - perhaps, Voldemort entrusted other members of his inner circle with similar objects. His most loyal followers.'

Harry's eyes lit up. 'Barty Crouch Junior,' he said.

'My assumption as well,' Dumbledore agreed. 'I looked into the younger Crouch. Turns out he had a vault at Gringotts. Shortly after he was apprehended and administered with the Dementors Kiss, the vault was robbed. The Goblins had it covered up. Bad for business, you see.'

'So,' Harry said, with a sigh, 'the Horcrux could be anywhere by now. And you have no idea what it might be?'

'Not yet,' Dumbledore admitted. 'But I will not stop looking.'

'I'll try and think of possible locations Voldemort may have hidden it,' Harry said. 'It's not exactly a stretch to conclude he was the one behind the theft.'

'Indeed. Now, on with your lessons.'

(----)

'So Dumbledore thinks that Voldemort stole something of Rowena Ravenclaws, and that it was, until recently, in Barty Crouch Juniors possession,' Harry finished the tale.

He was talking with Hermione, Draco and Ginny in the Head's common room. He and Draco sat in the comfortable wingback chairs in front of the blazing fire; their respective women perched snugly in their laps.

'It's pretty sketchy,' Draco observed, ever the pessimist.

'Most things concerning Voldemort are,' Harry replied. 'We just have to go with our instincts. And my instincts say we have it right.'

'So what do you think the object is? And where do you think You Know Who hid it?' Ginny asked, still with her head resting on Draco's chest.

'I don't know,' Harry admitted. 'The Horcrux could be anything really. As for where Voldemort hid it… it would be someplace important to him. Significant. Unfortunately, we don't know all that much about him. Several years of his life are completely unaccounted for.'

'So how are you supposed to figure it out and destroy the Horcrux?' Ginny asked.

'Like I said, I'm going to trust my instincts. It'll come to me.'

'What makes you so sure?'

'It has too,' Harry replied.

'Well, Dumbledore found the ring in the ruins of the Gaunt house,' Hermione began. 'The diary was entrusted to Draco's father.' Draco snorted disdainfully. 'The locket was a fake, but it was, at some point, hidden away in a cave related to Voldemort's childhood. We suspect it ended up in Grimmauld Place somehow and that Mundungus Fletcher stole it. Hufflepuff's Cup is another potential Horcrux, but we have no idea where that might be, same with Ravenclaw's. The last one, besides Voldemort himself, is most likely the snake Nagini. Is that right, Harry?'

'Yeah Hermione,' Harry said, 'that's all of them.'

'Well, one of them is kept with him at all times - Nagini - and he also gave two more to his Death Eaters - the diary and Ravenclaw's heirloom. So far, we know for sure that he hid two of them - the ring and the locket. Ravenclaw's heirloom is no longer in Barty Crouch Juniors possession, so Voldemort has either given it to another Death Eater or hidden it someplace important to him. Lets assume he did the later - after all, it's probably the safer bet in these turbulent times. Where could he have hidden it? It would be someplace important to him…'

'He worked at Borgin and Burkes,' Draco offered.

'It's too public,' Harry said. 'Anyone could stumble upon it.'

'The Orphanage?' Hermione tried.

'He hated the place,' Harry said.

'Didn't he live in Albania for a while, after he tried to kill you?' Ginny asked.

'Yeah,' Harry said, 'but if he hid it there, we'd never find it. It'd be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Let's just hope he didn't.'

'I'm drawing a blank,' Hermione admitted.

'Wait a second,' Draco said, his face lighting up. 'Ginny, you're a genius.'

'What?' Ginny turned her confused face up towards Draco.

'I've been trying to think about places that where important to Voldemort before he was defeated by Harry the first time,' Draco said. 'I never even considered places that would have recently become important to him.'

'What are you getting at?' Harry asked.

'The graveyard where his father is buried,' Draco said.

'Of course,' Hermione said, with a cute excited squeak, 'it was where he was reborn. What could be more important than that?'

Harry shook his head in wonder, smirking. 'Draco Malfoy, I could kiss you.'

'Don't even think about it,' Draco snapped back, raising a finger accusingly.

Ginny laughed. 'What about me?'

Draco locked eyes with Ginny, surprised. They hadn't kissed since getting back together. She smiled at him with adoration. He shrugged. 'You can definitely kiss me.'

'Maybe later,' Ginny teased. Draco pouted with disappointment. 'Aww, how can I resist that pout?'

'I'm not pouting,' Draco argued.

'Just shut up and kiss me already,' Ginny shot back. He did.

Harry cleared his throat loudly. 'We'll leave you guys alone,' Harry said, lifting Hermione up off his lap. She gave a small gasp at the sudden motion as Harry set her down on her feet. 'Let's go tell Dumbledore,' he said, taking her hand and leading her towards the door.

'Harry,' Hermione said, 'it's nearly eleven. He's probably already in bed.'

'Then we'll wake him up.'

(----)

They did.

To say Dumbledore was surprised to find Harry Potter and Hermione Granger knocking on his door at eleven o'clock at night was an understatement. He tugged his night robe closer about him and cleared his throat. 'Ah, Harry,' Dumbledore turned his eyes to Hermione, giving her a little nod, 'and his lovely lady, Miss Granger. What a nice surprise. May I ask what you are doing knocking on my door at this late hour?'

'Sorry for the intrusion, sir,' Hermione spoke before Harry, casting her impatient (not to mention rude! Honestly!) boyfriend a scathing look. 'Apparently it just couldn't wait until morning.'

'Sir,' Harry said, getting the Headmasters attention, 'I know where the Ravenclaw Horcrux is.'

Dumbledore's demeanour immediately changed. He straightened up and pushed his spectacles up his nose. 'You are sure?'

'I am,' Harry said.

'Hardly,' Hermione contradicted. 'It's just a guess, sir.'

'It's not,' Harry argued, 'I can feel it. We have it right.'

'And where might this location be?'

'The gravesite of Tom Riddle Senior,' Harry said.

'And the place Voldemort was reborn,' finished Hermione.

With a light in his eye, Dumbledore said, 'Wait here, I'll be right back,' and then rushed into his adjoined bedchamber.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. Harry shrugged. Hermione bit her lip in thought. A few seconds passed.

'You're so rude,' Hermione commented, rather randomly.

'Excuse me? What did I do?' Harry asked, offended.

'Knocking on his door at eleven, it's just… I just wasn't raised that way,' Hermione said, a little bit snobbish. 'It's just not seemly.'

Harry grinned. 'You're too cute,' he said. She glared at him indignantly, but his grin only widened, forcing a reflecting smile to break out on her face.

'Impolite prat,' she said.

'Uptight bint,' he returned.

Hermione chuckled. 'You'll pay for that,' she said, lowly.

'Can't wait,' he said, equally low.

'What are you two whispering about?' Dumbledore asked, emerging from his bedchamber, dressed in midnight blue robes and a long dark cloak.

'Nothing,' Harry replied.

'Sir, where are you going?' Hermione asked, her eyes widening.

'We are going to get that Horcrux,' Dumbledore said, giving her his trademark twinkling eye. 'Ready?'

'You can't be serious,' Hermione very nearly shouted. 'It's near midnight - definitely not the time for nightly excursions to graveyards. Especially on nothing more than a hunch!'

'I believe that Harry is correct,' Dumbledore said. 'His intuition in this case… I trust more than anyone's. You may stay if you wish, but we are going, aren't we Harry?'

'Definitely,' Harry said, but he offered Hermione his hand, 'come on Hermione, let's go.'

'You're both mad,' she said, taking Harry's proffered hand.

'Quite,' Dumbledore agreed. 'Now then, we'll travel by Portkey. Are you ready?'

'Always,' Harry said.

Dumbledore smiled and reached into his robes. He pulled out an old pink sweet wrapper and offered it to the young couple. Harry took one end. Hermione took the other.

'Three, two, one,' Dumbledore counted down, and then they vanished.

Night surrounded them as they appeared in the graveyard of Little Hangleton. The moon shone down on them ominously, breaking through the clouds periodically. Hermione immediately took Harry's hand. He gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand.

'This way,' he said, leading them through the chillingly familiar graves towards the resting place of Tom Riddle Senior. He could almost see the flash of green light that had ended Cedric Diggory's life, hear the steaming boil of the cauldron that birthed the new Lord Voldemort. He shut it all out.

'Are you okay?' Hermione whispered.

'Hnn… what?'

'You're shaking.'

Harry forced himself to stop. 'I'm fine,' he lied.

'I believe this is the place,' Dumbledore called, from several spaces behind them. Harry turned to see Dumbledore standing by the grave of Voldemort's father. He had been so intent on remaining calm that he had walked right by it without even noticing.

'Yeah,' he said, looking away, embarrassed at being caught in a weak moment.

Dumbledore pretended not to notice.

'So, where do you think it could be?' Hermione asked.

'It's there,' Harry said. 'He buried it.' Harry pointed at the spot where the senior Riddle rested in "peace". Harry doubted there was much peace in it.

'How do you know?' Hermione asked.

'I…' Harry smirked sourly. 'I can feel the dirt on my hands. His hands. He buried it himself, alone, so no one would know except himself.'

'A secret best kept by one,' Dumbledore said, apparently not disturbed at all by Harry's deep connection with Voldemort.

'Guess that doesn't really work when you're magically linked to another wizard,' Harry commented grimly.

'Evidently,' Dumbledore agreed.

Meanwhile, Hermione had removed her hand from Harry's and had walked a bit away from them. Harry spared her a quick glance, cursed under his breath, and then got back to business. He'd have to deal with it later.

'Let's get to work,' Harry said. 'It won't dig itself up.'

Harry and Dumbledore rolled up their sleeves.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

The night was suddenly too cold for her.

'Argh!' Harry pulled his hands free from the earth and held them up before his face. Angry red skin steamed at him, blistering where his hands had touched the ground. Dumbledore stopped before his hands could come into contact with the obviously cursed soil. 'Son of a bitch!' Harry ground his teeth together as the redness began to fade. His hands no longer steamed.

'Harry?' Hermione called, worry obvious in her voice. She hovered a few feet away, obviously still too freaked out to come any closer. 'What's wrong?'

Harry allowed himself a grim smile - at least she still cared enough to voice her worry. 'He cursed the ground. If we want the Horcrux, one of us is going to have to severely burn their hands.'

'That's madness,' Hermione said.

'War is madness, Miss Granger,' Dumbledore said. 'I will do it. You're too valuable Harry, and I would never ask it of a student. I'm the only choice.'

'You sure?' Harry asked.

'I am,' Dumbledore affirmed.

'Stop it!' Hermione screamed. 'Are you two insane? Casually talking about this madness - I can't believe it! Nothing is worth this!'

'Hermione,' Harry said, giving her a steely stare, 'you're right. It is insane, but it's the only way we're going to defeat Voldemort. You can't understand it because you're not…' Harry glanced at Dumbledore, a self-deprecating smirk on his face, 'you're not like us. It's what I love most about you.'

'No,' Hermione said, shaking her head, 'Harry, you can't let him do it. If you won't stop him, I will!'

'You will not, Miss Granger,' Dumbledore said, quietly, but commandingly.

Hermione went silent, staring at them in shock. Tears streamed down her cheeks. 'No,' she repeated, 'I don't care what you say, I won't - oh!' Hermione's eyes went wide, then drooped shut. She fell limply to the floor.

Dumbledore pocketed his wand.

Harry ran to Hermione and knelt beside her, feeling for her pulse. It was there, steady and clear. He glared at Dumbledore. 'What did you do?'

'A simple sleeping spell,' Dumbledore said. 'She will be fine. Let's get on with this.'

Harry clenched his teeth. He would rage at Dumbledore later. 'Go on then,' Harry said. 'I'll keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.'

Dumbledore nodded, readied himself, and then plunged his hands into the ground. He dug into it, eyes closed in pain, grimacing as steam began to rise from the disturbed ground. Harry stared at him as Dumbledore continued to dig, heedless of the burning in his hands. With a groan of pain, the aged wizard removed his burnt and blistered hands from the enchanted earth and gasped in several deep breaths.

'Sir?'

'Don't worry,' Dumbledore ground out. 'I won't give up. Just… need one moment.'

'We could take turns,' Harry said. 'That way, we might be able to avoid severe damage.'

'No,' Dumbledore interrupted. 'I won't risk you. This curse is powerful. It would destroy both our hands. I must do it alone.'

Harry nodded. Dumbledore plunged his hands once more into the burning pain.

'Nngg.' Dumbledore grunted as he dug. 'I feel something. I'm almost there.'

'Hurry up then!'

'Got it!' Dumbledore fell back, his destroyed, blackened hands clutching a metallic box. Harry pulled out his wand and tried the few healing magic he knew, but none of them worked. 'Forget it, Harry. No Healer will be able to cure these hands. Take the box.'

Harry gentled removed the box from Dumbledore's hands. He eased it to the ground and took a deep breath. Would Voldemort have cursed the box as well? Harry ran his wand over it a few times, mumbling incantations under his breath. He couldn't detect anything, but that didn't mean there was nothing there to detect.

'Open it,' Dumbledore gasped, forcing himself to sit up, his mangled hands lying limply in his lap. Harry couldn't help but stare at them. Dumbledore wouldn't be holding a wand anymore.

'You shouldn't have done it,' Harry said, all of a sudden. 'We could have come back anytime. With anyone… someone else… someone less valuable.'

'No,' Dumbledore said, 'I would ask this of no one. Would you?'

Harry sighed noncommittally.

'Harry,' Dumbledore went on, 'open the box.'

Harry nodded in consent and took hold of both sides of the rectangular box. He steeled himself, and then flipped the lip. Nothing happened. He allowed himself a sigh of relief, and then studied the contents. It was a wand.

'Rowena Ravenclaw's wand?'

'Dear Merlin,' Dumbledore gasped.

'How do we destroy it?' Harry asked.

'The sword of Gryffindor,' Dumbledore said. 'We must make haste back to Hogwarts. Help me up, please.'

Harry grabbed Dumbledore by the upper arm and heaved the disabled wizard to his feet. Harry walked over to Hermione and gently lifted her up, supporting her weight against him. 'How are we getting back?'

'We'll Apparate just outside of Hogwarts,' Dumbledore said. 'Ready?'

'Can you… without your wand in your hand?' Harry asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. 'Do not doubt me,' Dumbledore said. 'As long as I have my wand on my person, I should be okay.'

Harry formed a line with his mouth, unsure whether he should believe Dumbledore's word. If Harry himself had been crippled, would he have admitted being all but useless? Not bloody likely. With a sigh, he conceded. 'I'm ready,' he said. 'Let's get out of here.'

Harry gently picked up Hermione, then, with simultaneously muffled cracks the two wizards (and the unconscious witch) disappeared.

Two blackened hands remained, lying on the ground where Dumbledore had left them behind.